Chapter 4 - The First Tremors
By noon, the atmosphere inside Marta’s grand home in Querétaro was beginning to sour, though she didn't yet realize the catastrophe looming over her head.
Marta sat at the head of the dining table, tapping her manicured nails impatiently against the dark wood. Across from her, Vanesa was scrolling through an online luxury boutique, humming a tune, while Roberto drank coffee from a porcelain cup.
“She’s taking this dramatic act too far,” Marta complained, glancing at her phone for the tenth time. “I’ve called Clara three times now. She isn't answering.”
“Let her pout, Mom,” Vanesa said lazily without looking up. “She’s probably sitting in some cheap motel off the highway, waiting for you to feel guilty. She’ll come crawling back before dinner when she realizes she can’t afford to stay anywhere else with two kids.”
Roberto chuckled, taking a bite of a sweet pastry. “Besides, she left her secondary card linked to your account, right? Just use that to order the rest of the catering for tonight’s dinner party.”
Marta brightened at the idea. “You’re right. Why should we let her bad mood ruin our weekend?” She picked up her phone, opened her delivery app, and added $400 worth of premium meats, seafood, and imported wine to her cart. She selected Clara’s black credit card as the payment method and tapped Confirm.
A red error message immediately flashed across the screen: TRANSACTION DECLINED: ACCOUNT CLOSED BY ISSUER.
Marta frowned. “That’s strange. Let me try again.”
She tapped the button again. DECLINED.
“Roberto, look at this,” Marta said, a edge of panic entering her voice. “It says the card is closed.”
Roberto put his coffee cup down, his eyebrows knitting together. “That’s impossible. Clara’s credit limit is massive. Try her secondary gold card.”
Marta tried the gold card. DECLINED. She tried the debit card linked to the house maintenance fund. DECLINED.
Within five minutes, every single payment method associated with my name had been completely blacklisted across all banking networks.
Before Marta could process what was happening, the landline phone in the hallway began to ring loudly. Francisco, who was still sitting in his armchair, grumbled and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” Francisco said. A second later, his face drained of all color. “Marta... it’s the private clinic in Mexico City.”
Marta hurried into the hallway. “What do they want?”
“They... they said the monthly retainer for my specialized heart medication and physical therapy has been revoked,” Francisco stammered, his hand shaking. “They said the primary sponsor—Clara—called an hour ago and terminated the contract. If we don't pay $5,000 in cash by tomorrow morning, they are canceling my care.”
Marta’s heart skipped a beat. “What?! She can’t do that! That’s ungrateful! That’s illegal!”
“Mom, calm down,” Vanesa said, standing up from the table, though her own voice sounded uncharacteristically tight. “It’s just a petty trick. She’s trying to starve us out so we beg her to come back. Just use your own savings account to cover Dad’s medicine for now.”
Marta swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “My... my savings account is empty, Vanesa. I put the last $20,000 into Roberto’s business account last week to cover his payroll shortfall!”
Vanesa whirled around to face her husband. “Roberto! Is that true? You took Mom’s money?”
Before Roberto could answer, a loud, heavy knock echoed through the house, rattling the heavy wooden front door.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Marta gasped, holding her chest. “Who is that?”
Roberto opened the door. Standing on the porch were two men dressed in crisp charcoal suits, accompanied by an officer from the local municipal court holding a thick yellow envelope.
“Marta Santos?” the court officer asked coldly.
Marta stepped forward, her confidence finally beginning to shatter. “Yes? I am Marta Santos. What is the meaning of this?”
The officer handed her the heavy yellow envelope. “You are being officially served with an Notice of Immediate Foreclosure and Asset Seizure, issued by Vance Global Holdings. This property has been seized due to fraudulent collateral misrepresentation and non-payment of primary mortgage obligations.”
Marta stared at the paper, the letters blurring before her eyes. “Vance Global? I don't know any Vance Global! This is my house!”
The lead attorney in the charcoal suit stepped forward, pulling a document from his briefcase. “The mortgage note on this property was acquired by Vance Global three months ago. Furthermore, we have filed criminal charges against your son-in-law, Roberto Gomez, for unauthorized commercial encumbrance using falsified signatures.”
Roberto’s face turned ghastly pale. “What? That’s... that’s a mistake!”
“It is no mistake, Mr. Gomez,” the attorney replied with terrifying precision. “Our client, Mr. Julian Vance, has authorized us to give you exactly forty-eight hours to vacate these premises. If you are not out by Monday morning at nine o’clock, federal marshals will physically remove you and seize all personal belongings inside.”
Marta staggered backward, her hand blindly reaching for the wall to support herself. “Julian Vance? Why would a billionaire care about my house? I don't even know him!”
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The attorney looked at Marta with sharp, unsympathetic eyes.
“You might not know Mr. Vance, Mrs. Santos,” the lawyer said smoothly. “But you certainly know his close personal friend and chief architectural strategist... Clara Santos. Good day.”
