Chapter 4 - The Voice from the Dark
The speaker on the small digital recorder clicked, followed by a slight hiss of static. Then, a sharp, recognizable voice echoed loudly through the prosecutor's office.
“Make sure the girls stay out of sight during the fundraiser,” Teresa’s recorded voice rang out with chilling clarity. “I don't want those little bastards ruining the image of the foundation.”
A second voice—Bruno’s voice—answered on the recording: “Aunt Teresa, the bank called about the commercial account in Mariana’s name. The compliance officer is asking for a fresh biometric verification from Mariana before they release the three-million-peso dividend transfer.”
“Tell them Mariana is ill!” Teresa’s recorded voice snapped angrily. “Forge her mark on the authorization sheet like you’ve done for the last six years! She doesn't even know the account exists. She’s currently scrubbing the second-floor bathrooms where she belongs.”
“What if she tries to leave again?” Bruno asked.
“She won't leave,” Teresa laughed, a sinister, cruel sound. “She thinks she owes me thirty million pesos for Diego’s debts. As long as she believes she’s a criminal, she’ll stay in that laundry room until those three girls are old enough to be married off.”
“And Diego’s accident file?” Bruno chimed in. “The insurance investigators are asking why the brake line inspection report from the Saltillo highway was never filed with the court.”
“I paid the traffic investigator fifty thousand pesos to shred that report six years ago!” Teresa barked. “Diego was going to take those shares and leave for Mexico City with that worthless girl. He got what he deserved for betraying his own mother. Now make sure the forged transfer goes through tonight!”
CLICK.
The recording ended.
The room fell into an absolute, suffocating silence.
Bruno Cárdenas slumped back into his leather chair, his face completely drained of color, his hands shaking uncontrollably. Licenciado Morales slowly closed his leather briefcase, taking two steps back from Teresa as if trying to physically distance himself from a toxic hazard.
Teresa sat frozen, her chest heaving beneath her Chanel suit, her hands gripping the edges of the conference table so hard her knuckles turned white.
Prosecutor Ramos stood up slowly from his seat. His expression was dark, heavy, and filled with deep disgust.
He looked at the two uniformed state officers standing by the doorway.
"Officers," Ramos commanded quietly. "Place Teresa Cárdenas and Bruno Cárdenas under arrest immediately."
"You can't do this!" Teresa shrieked, her aristocratic facade shattering into frantic rage as an officer grabbed her wrists and clicked heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists. "I am Teresa Cárdenas! I founded the Mujeres de Pie shelter! I am a philanthropist! Mariana is a liar! A maid!"
"You are a human trafficker, a fraudster, and an accessory to corporate embezzlement," Prosecutor Ramos said coldly. "And as of this moment, I am requesting a court order to exhume the remains of Diego Cárdenas to initiate an official murder investigation regarding his vehicle's mechanical failure."
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Mariana stood beside Ricardo, watching quietly as the officers pulled her screaming mother-in-law out of the room, through the glass doors, and into the crowded hallway where dozens of news cameras were waiting.
Flashes exploded through the glass walls as Teresa Cárdenas was paraded past the press in handcuffs, her screams of fury echoing off the marble corridors until the elevator doors closed behind her.
