Chapter 3 - The Cold Awakening
In the master bedroom of the Narvarte apartment, the smell of cheap vanilla candles and stale champagne hung heavy in the air. Raúl Solís woke up with a pounding headache, the sunlight streaming through the bare windows piercing his eyes like needles. He rolled over, his arm brushing against Mónica, who was sleeping soundly, wrapped in the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets that Claudia had washed and ironed just two days ago.
Raúl smiled, a sense of immense satisfaction washing over him despite his hangover. He looked around the room. For months, this apartment had felt like a tomb, filled with the soft, wet coughing of his mother and the silent, judging presence of Claudia. Every time he came home, he felt the crushing weight of obligation, the guilt of his success, and the constant reminder of his mortality.
Now, it was gone. The apartment was completely silent. There were no oxygen machines humming, no plastic medical containers cluttering the bathroom sink, and no clinical smell of antiseptics. He was finally free to live his life, to spend his money, and to enjoy the company of a woman who didn't look at him as if he were a monster.
He got out of bed, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked into the kitchen to make coffee. He noticed the two five-hundred-peso bills still sitting on the dining table where he had thrown them. He laughed softly, picking them up and stuffing them into his pocket. "Stupid woman," he muttered. "She probably spent all of it on the ambulance."
He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the daily sales reports for 'Refacciones Solís'. The store was scheduled to open at 8:00 AM, and his head accountant, Don Jorge, usually sent an automated notification showing the opening balances and the pending supplier invoices for the week.
There was no notification.
Instead, his screen displayed twelve missed calls from Don Jorge and seven text messages from the regional manager of BBVA Bancomer.
Raúl frowned, his thumb tapping the screen to open the first text message from the bank.
“Dear Client, we inform you that a security hold has been placed on corporate account ending in -4590 due to an administrative administrative change request. All outgoing transactions, wire transfers, and check clearances have been temporarily suspended pending verification of credentials. For details, contact your corporate representative.”
"What the hell?" Raúl muttered, his hangover instantly forgotten as a cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck.
He immediately dialed Don Jorge. The accountant answered on the first ring, his voice trembling with a high-pitched panic that Raúl had never heard before.
"Don Raúl! Thank God you called!" Jorge gasped, his breath coming in short bursts. "You need to come to the main warehouse in San Ángel immediately! Something terrible is happening!"
"Jorge, calm down! What are you talking about?" Raúl snapped, walking frantically back into the bedroom to grab his pants. "The bank just texted me that the accounts are frozen. Is it a tax audit? Did the treasury department freeze us?"
"No, Don Raúl! It’s not the government! It's your wife! Claudia is here!"
Raúl froze, his hand clutching his trousers. "Claudia? What do you mean she’s there? Did she go to make a scene? Call the police and have her removed for trespassing!"
"I can't, Don Raúl!" Jorge cried, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "She didn't come alone. She came with Licenciado Bernardo Gomez, your mother's old lawyer. And they have four armed security guards from a private firm. They’ve already changed the locks on the main entrance gate. The employees are standing on the sidewalk, and the security guards won't let anyone inside! Claudia is sitting in your office, Don Raúl! She has a mountain of legal folders on your desk!"
Raúl’s phone slipped from his hand, bouncing off the mattress before he caught it by the cord. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a sledgehammer. "That’s impossible," he whispered, his face turning a pasty, uneven white. "She doesn't have any right to that store. The power of attorney gives me total control."
"Don Raúl, Licenciado Gomez served me with an official notary decree ten minutes ago," Jorge stammered. "He said your power of attorney expired at five o'clock this morning. He said you are no longer an employee or an administrator of this company. Don Raúl... they’re liquidating your access codes!"
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From the bed, Mónica sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning delicately. "Honey, what is all that shouting? You're ruining my morning."
Raúl didn't answer her. He threw on his shirt, didn't even bother to lace his shoes, and ran out of the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind him.
