Chapter 7 - Unraveling the Web of Deceit
With Victoria removed from the premises, the grand hall of the clinic slowly emptied. The forty guests—most of whom were eager to distance themselves from the unfolding corporate scandal—exited in hushed, hurried clusters, whispering among themselves about the downfall of the Vance matriarch.
Only the notary remained, sitting nervously at his mahogany table, clutching his leather briefcase as if it were a life raft.
Alejandro swung his legs slowly over the side of the medical bed, testing his weight. He wobbled slightly, but Lucía was instantly there, her arm sliding firmly around his waist to support him.
"Easy," she murmured. "You've been horizontal for three months. Your muscles haven't seen a gym since autumn."
"I have the best physical therapist in Madrid supporting me," Alejandro replied with a tired grin, leaning into her touch.
He walked slowly, with Lucía’s steady support, over to the notary’s table. The older man shrank back, looking up at the young heir with undisguised terror.
"Mr. Vance... I was merely following instructions under the corporate seal of—" the notary began, his voice trembling.
"Spare me, Counselor," Alejandro interrupted, his tone cold and level. He picked up the thick stack of fraudulent documents, flipped them open to the signature page, and tore them cleanly in half. Then he tore them again, dropping the shredded remains directly into the notary’s open briefcase.
"You will draft a formal statement for the board of directors," Alejandro instructed, his voice carrying the effortless authority of a man who commanded empires without needing to raise his voice. "You will state that the emergency provisions were legally revoked by the principal prior to execution, and that all current executive power remains solely and exclusively with me. If I find your name attached to any other fraudulent filings by my mother or her associates, you won't just lose your license—you'll share a cell with her."
The notary nodded frantically, snapping his briefcase shut, bowing hurriedly, and practically sprinting out of the room.
When the heavy doors clicked shut behind him, the hall fell into a profound, peaceful silence. The white lilies smelled fresh and clean now, unburdened by the tension of corporate greed and familial betrayal.
Alejandro turned to Lucía, his dark eyes softening completely as he reached out to cup her face with both hands. His thumbs gently stroked her cheekbones, tracing the contours of her face as if memorizing it all over again.
"Three months," Alejandro whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Three months of darkness, Lucía. I was trapped inside my own head, unable to speak, unable to move, listening to everyone talk about my estate, my death, my future... like I was already a ghost."
"You weren't a ghost," Lucía whispered back, resting her hands over his wrists. "You left a trail. You gave me a small collar, and you gave me a sentence. You trusted me."
"Because you were the only real thing in my life," Alejandro said simply. "Everyone else saw a bank account, a title, a corporate logo. You saw me. Just Alejandro, drinking black coffee and reading poetry at Table Four in a little boarding house near Atocha."
He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Lucía closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly as the last remnants of fear and uncertainty melted away.
"So," Lucía murmured against his hair, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Does this mean our wedding is officially postponed?"
May you like
Alejandro pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, a mischievous spark returning to his gaze.
"Postponed?" he raised an eyebrow. "Not on your life, Lucía Santos. But the next time we do this, there will be no notary, no corporate lawyers, and no white lilies. Just a small church in the mountains, a few good friends, and a reception where the only thing on the table is good wine and hot bread."
