Chapter 5 - The Eviction
By mid-afternoon, the fall of the Ortiz dynasty had hit the financial columns like an earthquake. Spanish business outlets were running breaking banners about the restructuring of the Ortiz Logistics group under the rightful leadership of the long-lost Valenzuela heiress.
Outside the penthouse in La Moraleja, moving trucks had already arrived, but they weren't packing my belongings.
Doña Carmen was sitting on the pavement next to her designer luggage, screaming at the building superintendent while curious neighbors peered out from their manicured balconies. Two court-appointed moving coordinators were systematically labeling every single antique, painting, and high-value sculpture inside the apartment with red confiscation tags.
"This is an outrage! I am a marquesa by blood!" Carmen wailed as I stepped out of the private elevator lobby onto the sunlit driveway. "You thieving viper! You stole my son’s life! You manipulated the courts!"
I walked over to where she sat in disgrace. The illusion of royal superiority was completely stripped away; her makeup had streaked down her face, and her precious fur wrap was dusty from being dragged across the concrete.
"No one manipulated anything, Carmen," I said, standing tall above her. "You spent eight years reminding me that every bite of food I ate in that house was paid for by your son. You ridiculed my modest family traditions. You told the society editors that I was an uneducated country girl lucky to wash your floors."
"You were deceitful!" she hissed, trying to pull herself up against the tailgate of an ordinary moving van. "You let us believe we were superior!"
"I simply let you be yourselves," I answered. "A modest person who comes into money builds a longer table. An insecure coward who comes into money builds a higher wall. You and your son chose cruelty every single day when grace cost nothing. This building was acquired by my foundation through a debt-swap agreement five years ago. You haven't lived in Borja’s house for half a decade; you’ve lived in mine."
The moving supervisor walked over with a clipboard. "Doña Elena, the private luxury fleet in the garage has been impounded under the commercial lien. The only vehicle registered under the personal name of Mr. Borja Ortiz without debt encumbrance is the ten-year-old utility van used by the groundskeepers."
May you like
Carmen looked horrified. "We cannot drive a utility van! How will we go to the country club?"
"You won't be going to the country club, Carmen," I said smoothly. "Your membership was revoked at noon when your unpaid bar tabs and tournament dues were rejected by the issuing bank. The van is yours. It will take you back to your family’s dilapidated farmhouse in Toledo. Learn to farm. It builds character."
