Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Revolt
Rodrigo stared at his vibrating phone as if it were a live grenade. He wiped a sudden bead of cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, swallowed hard, and pressed the speaker button.
“Mr. Siqueira,” a voice cut through the room, harsh and razor-sharp. “This is Commissioner Ramos from the Municipal Port Authority. Our field inspectors have just red-tagged your deep-water foundation zone. Your automated systems are unresponsive, and seventy ready-mix transit mixers are currently backed up along Harbor Boulevard, causing a six-mile traffic gridlock.”
“Commissioner Ramos, please accept my apologies,” Rodrigo stammered, his fingers tightening against the mahogany edge of the desk. “We are experiencing a temporary software synchronization error on our local network. Our technicians are resolving the issue immediately—”
“I don't give a damn about your software errors, Rodrigo!” Ramos roared back. “Your father promised us an automated, fail-safe geotechnical deployment. That was the sole reason your firm won the bid over Andrade Construction. Under Section Twelve of the municipal contract, every hour of unexcused operational delay incurs a liquidated damage assessment of fifty thousand dollars. Furthermore, if your structural telemetry is not restored before two o’clock this afternoon, the city will declare a material breach, terminate the contract, and call your family’s fifty-million-dollar performance bond!”
The line went dead with a loud, hollow beep.
Marcela gasped, taking a step backward, clutching her belly with manicured fingers that suddenly trembled. “Fifty million dollars? Rodrigo, you told me your family was untouchable! You told me Helena was just an ordinary housewife who took care of the domestic chores while you ran the empire!”
“Shut up, Marcela!” Rodrigo snapped, turning on her with wild, bloodshot eyes. The charming, seductive executive had evaporated, replaced by a cornered animal realizing he was caught in an iron snare. “Just be quiet for one second!”
The heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open once again.
This time, it wasn’t Bernardo. It was Lourdes Siqueira, his sixty-five-year-old mother, walking into the room like an angry storm cloud, flanked by two senior corporate attorneys carrying thick black leather briefcases. Lourdes was wrapped in an expensive cashmere cape, her diamond rings clicking against her designer purse, her painted face twisted into a mask of pure, aristocratic indignation.
“What is the meaning of this spectacle, Rodrigo?” Lourdes demanded, her shrill voice echoing off the floor-to-ceiling glass. “I have received seven phone calls from our primary bank’s commercial lending division in the last twenty minutes! They claim our corporate line of credit has been temporarily placed on administrative review! Why haven't your lawyers filed Helena’s divorce papers yet? Why are you letting that little nobody create ripples in our business?”
Rodrigo collapsed into the executive leather armchair at the head of the table, burying his head in his hands. He couldn't even look his mother in the eye.
“She didn't create ripples, Mother,” Rodrigo groaned, his voice muffled by his trembling fingers. “She severed our jugular.”
Senior counsel Alberto, who had represented the Siqueira family for three decades, stepped forward, opening his leather briefcase and setting a certified corporate registry document on the table before Lourdes.
“Mrs. Siqueira,” Alberto said gravely, adjusting his bifocals. “I pulled the intellectual property registration filings for all structural algorithms used across our four largest active commercial projects. Helena Bennett didn't license these technologies through Siqueira Engineering. She registered the global patents eight years ago under her private holding company, Nexis Solutions, before she even married Rodrigo. Every single project we are currently building depends entirely on her personal proprietary code.”
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Lourdes blinked, her thin penciled eyebrows shooting upward in shock. “Then sue her! Seize the company! She was married to my son! Everything she created during the marriage belongs to the marital estate!”
Alberto looked at Lourdes with deep, exhausted pity. “Did you read the prenuptial agreement Rodrigo insisted on having her sign seven years ago?”
