Chapter 2 - The Mother-in-Law’s Panic
Before Borja could process the legal trap he had sprung on himself, the penthouse door swung open with a violent shudder. In stormed Doña Carmen, his mother, wrapped in an oversized fur wrap despite the pleasant spring morning. Her perfume arrived before her—a heavy, suffocating scent of lilies and French boutique vanity. She carried a leather portfolio under her arm, her face a triumphant grin of smug family superiority.
"Borja, darling!" she boomed, not even glancing at me as she marched into the kitchen. "I brought our head of security and the property appraiser. I want this peasant out of the guest wing before noon. We have high-profile board members coming to celebrate your acquisition tonight, and we cannot have this mouse dragging down the family dignity. Did she sign the supplemental release of claims yet?"
Borja didn't turn to greet her. He was still pressed against the counter, staring at the shattered glass of his phone as if staring into his own open grave.
"Borja?" Carmen paused, her manicured brow furrowing beneath her tight forehead. "What is wrong with you? Why haven't you told the domestic staff to clear her wardrobe out into trash bags? We discussed this last night. We humiliated her properly at the party so she wouldn't dare ask for alimony. Her reputation is ruined anyway."
"Mother," Borja whispered, his voice trembling so violently that Carmen stopped dead in her tracks. "Stop talking. Just shut up."
"Excuse me?" Carmen’s voice went shrill. She had spent thirty years ruling her son’s life with an iron fist, convinced that their family was born to look down on commoners. "How dare you speak to your mother like that! After all I did to find you an obedient girl who wouldn't spend your fortune? She gave us nothing! No society connections, no dowry, no heirs!"
"She owns the fleet, Mother," Borja suddenly screamed, turning around with wild, bloodshot eyes. "She owns the dry docks in Valencia! She owns the corporate headquarters in Salamanca! She holds the entire fifteen million euro senior debt note that comes due at noon today, and Damián just notified me that she’s calling the note immediately!"
Carmen blinked, a shrill laugh escaping her lips, though her painted smile began to slide sideways. "What nonsense are you babbling? She doesn't have two nickels to rub together! She wore a simple zara dress to my birthday gala!"
I walked over to the side table, picked up my handbag, and pulled out an unsealed legal folder bound in crimson leather. "A simple dress is comfortable, Carmen. Unlike your heavy paste pearls, which, by the way, were purchased using the executive expense card tied to my company's revolving line of credit."
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I tossed the folder onto the dining table. It slid across the dark wood, stopping against Carmen’s manicured fingers.
"Take a look at Schedule B," I murmured, watching the blood drain from her face. "You wanted to ensure your son never lost a penny to an outsider. You drafted a separation clause that states upon signature of divorce, all personal claims and joint guarantees dissolve instantly, transferring operational liabilities directly to the majority bondholder. Last night, your son handed me that exact document on a silver platter."
