Chapter 4 - Stripped of the Crown
Borja jumped out of his chair, knocking it backward into the soundproof glass wall behind him. "You set me up! This entire eight-year marriage was a calculated trap! You married me just to tear my family’s heritage apart!"
I folded my hands over the leather desk pad, looking directly into his manic, dilated eyes. "I loved you, Borja. Eight years ago, when we met at the maritime symposium in Santander, I genuinely believed you were an ambitious visionary who wanted to modernize Spain’s shipping lanes. I kept my inheritance hidden because I wanted a man who loved me for who I was, not for my family’s centuries-old endowment."
"You lied to me!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the frosted glass out to the floor of stunned administrative assistants.
"I concealed my wealth because within six months of our marriage, you turned into a tyrant," I countered, keeping my tone measured, calm, and devastatingly clear. "You realized my quiet demeanor meant I didn't care for boastful luxury, so you used that simplicity to degrade me. You told your family I was worthless. You made me clean your mother’s silver while your sisters laughed at my hands. You thought that because you handled the invoices, you were a god."
Mateo Herrera stepped forward, setting a single sheet of embossed paper before Borja. "Sign the operational surrender, Mr. Ortiz. If you refuse, the bailiffs waiting outside will execute the provisional attachment order on your personal bank accounts, your sports cars, and your mother’s estate in Salamanca."
Borja looked at the pen, then at the silent board members who had once bowed to his every whim. Not a single director looked back at him. Even his loyal chief financial officer looked down at his shoes, unwilling to catch the eye of a fallen king.
"Elena, please," Borja suddenly whimpered, leaning over the table, tears finally spilling from his eyes. The terrifying realization that his entire identity was built on borrowed dust hit him like a physical blow. "We can talk about this. We spent eight years together. You can’t throw me into the street. Think of what people will say! Think of our family name!"
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"Your family name was tarnished the moment you turned cruelty into a hobby," I said. "You have thirty minutes to vacate the executive suite. Take your personal effects only. Any corporate asset, including the watch on your wrist bought with company capital, belongs to the de Valenzuela Trust."
With shaking fingers, Borja signed the document, dropped the fountain pen, and stumbled out of the room under the cold escort of corporate security.
