Chapter 4 - THE PREPARATION OF THE TABLE
By Friday night, the Bosques de las Lomas estate had been transformed into an instrument of absolute precision.
Elena walked through the ground floor with Marcela and two AV technicians from a private security firm.
The grand dining room—a massive space featuring a ten-foot oak table, velvet chairs, and a grand crystal chandelier—had been subtly reconfigured. Positioned directly opposite Octavio’s head-of-the-table seat was a sleek, ultra-thin two-meter digital display panel, cleverly masked behind a temporary silk art curtain.
"The audio-visual feed is synced to the encrypted server," the lead technician reported, adjusting a tiny wireless remote. "When you hit the trigger button on your phone, the curtain retracted mechanism activates, and the high-definition media package plays in full 4K resolution with clear audio amplification."
"Good," Elena said. "And the legal document binders?"
Marcela placed four heavy leather folders at the side buffet table, neatly hidden behind silver serving trays.
"The formal freezing orders for the Aguirre Foundation accounts have been signed by Federal Judge Morales," Marcela confirmed, her eyes bright with intense focus. "They go into legal effect at precisely 8:30 p.m. tomorrow. The tax fraud indictment against Mauricio and Regina has been filed with the Attorney General's office under seal. The moment you deliver the evidence to Octavio, the legal traps snap shut simultaneously."
"What about my personal assets?" Elena asked.
"All your personal accounts, your mother’s trust, and your private auditing holdings have been completely decoupled from the Aguirre network," Marcela assured her. "The house title is registered exclusively under your name. By midnight tomorrow, Mauricio won't even have the legal right to step onto the driveway."
At 11:00 p.m., Mauricio returned home. He was slightly flushed from alcohol, humming a song as he walked into the foyer.
He saw Elena standing near the dining table, adjusting a centerpiece of white lilies.
"Look at this," Mauricio sneered, leaning against the archway. "My obedient little wife, working late to make sure my family is comfortable. See? Was it really that hard to stop throwing tantrums?"
Elena looked up at him, her eyes clear, calm, and utterly devoid of warmth.
"I wanted everything to be perfect for your father, Mauricio," she said softly. "A dinner he will remember for the rest of his life."
May you like
Mauricio smirked, walking over and pouring himself a glass of water from the sideboard. "He’s bringing a prospective investor from Miami tomorrow. Make sure you don't talk too much about accounting. Nobody wants to hear about numbers over steak."
"Oh, don't worry," Elena smiled—a cold, razor-sharp expression that made Mauricio’s stomach tighten involuntarily for a fleeting second. "The numbers will speak entirely for themselves."
