Desperate, I went to the notary’s office, knowing my ex-husband, his mistress, and his mother, whom I’ve always hated, were waiting for me. But when the notary read the will, “Mrs. Valenzuela, I’m glad you decided to join us,” said Notary Gustavo Herrera formally, while I stood with my arms crossed, feeling hostile stares on my back. “I had no other choice, sir,” I replied without turning around. “Although I don’t understand what I’m doing here, you’ll find out soon enough,” he answered, glancing at his documents.

I felt a chill. Behind me, Javier, Camila, and Doña Mercedes waited like vultures. I could feel their contempt without even seeing them. “Helena, please sit down right now.” Javier’s voice sounded impatient. Let’s get this over with quickly. “I prefer to stand,” I replied curtly. Doña Mercedes snorted, always so dramatic. I turned slowly to face them. Javier, in his impeccable suit and with that fake smile I knew so well, and Camila, his assistant and now lover, with that ridiculous blue-dyed hair.

And Doña Mercedes, the manipulative matriarch, who always made my life miserable. Let’s begin then, the notary announced. A week earlier, while I was reviewing blueprints in my small architecture office, my phone rang. It was almost midnight. Architect Valenzuela. This is Notary Gustavo Herrera. I’m sorry for the late hour, but it’s important. I frowned. How can I help you? It concerns the will of Don Ricardo Castellanos. He passed away yesterday and left specific instructions for you to be present for the reading. I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on me.

Don Ricardo was Javier’s father, my ex-husband, the only member of that family who treated me with respect. “There must be some mistake,” I replied. “I divorced your son a year ago.” “There’s no mistake, ma’am.” Don Ricardo was very clear. “The reading will be next Tuesday at 10. It’s important that you attend.” After hanging up, I stared out the window at the lights of Monteverde, that elegant suburb of Mexico City, where I once thought I would be happy.

Seven years of marriage destroyed when I found Javier with Camila in our own house. The next day I called Patricia. “Are you crazy? Of course you have to go,” my friend and lawyer said over coffee. “If Don Ricardo included you, it must be for something important.” I don’t want to see Javier or his mother, much less that woman. Do you know how hard it was for me to get out of that marriage? I showed her the scar on my wrist. It was a reminder of when I broke a mirror after discovering the infidelity.

I don’t want to hear anything more about the Castilians. Patricia took my hands. “Elena, you’re 35 years old and you have your whole life ahead of you. Whatever happens, it will give you closure. If you don’t go, you’ll be left wondering forever.” Doña Mercedes always hated me, I muttered. From the day Javier introduced me, she made me feel worthless, because she knew I was worth more than her entire family combined. I remembered my first encounter with Don Ricardo at a family dinner.

While Doña Mercedes criticized my overly simple dress, Don Ricardo asked me about my sustainable architecture projects. He was the only one who saw me as a professional and not as an ornament for his son. I’ll go, I decided, but not for them, but for Don Ricardo. The morning of the reading, I dressed in a navy blue suit, my armor. With each button I fastened, I built a wall around my heart. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me weak. The Herrera notary building in the Roma neighborhood gleamed in the October sun.

 

I walked in with a confident stride, ignoring the knot in my stomach. In the elevator, I practiced my indifferent expression. When the doors opened on the 12th floor, I saw them. The three of them were sitting in the waiting area. Javier was impatiently checking his phone. Camila, dressed all in black, was staring at the floor, and Doña Mercedes, with her ever-present pearl necklace, was eyeing me like I was a cockroach. “What’s she doing here?” I heard Doña Mercedes whisper to Javier as I walked in.

I didn’t give them the pleasure of greeting me. I went straight to the secretary, Elena Valenzuela. I have an appointment with Mr. Herrera. Minutes later, we were in the notary’s elegant office. A polished mahogany table separated us, me on one side, the three of them on the other, as it had always been. “Mrs. Valenzuela,” the notary began. “Mr. Ricardo left very precise instructions regarding his presence today. We are about to learn his last will and testament.” It was then that I stood with my arms crossed while the notary began to bring out the documents.

I didn’t sit down. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me on their level. “Please, Elena,” Javier insisted, with that smile that once melted my heart but now made me nauseous. “This is a family matter. I stopped being part of your family a long time ago,” I replied. The notary cleared his throat uncomfortably and began to read. “I, Ricardo Castellanos Fuentes, being of sound mind,” the notary began to read as we all remained silent. The will continued with legal formalities and some minor donations to cousins ​​and nephews.

Doña Mercedes felt satisfied, surely anticipating the moment when the entire Castilian empire would fall into the hands of her beloved son. Regarding my shares and majority control of Grupo Castellanos, the notary continued, adjusting his glasses. I have made a decision that may surprise some. I noticed Javier straighten up in his seat. Camila gave him a nervous look. I am bequeathing 40% of the Grupo Castellanos shares, with controlling interest, to my former daughter-in-law, the architect Elena Valenzuela Montalvo.

The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife. For a moment I thought I’d misheard. This is unacceptable. Doña Mercedes was the first to react, standing up. My son is the rightful heir. She’s not even part of the family. Javier froze, his mouth slightly open and his face pale. Camila’s eyes were fixed on the floor. This has to be a joke, I finally managed to say. The notary shook his head.

I assure you, no, Mrs. Valenzuela. Don Ricardo was very clear, and we reviewed this document several times before his death. “I will contest this will!” Javier shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “My father was ill; he didn’t know what he was doing.” “On the contrary,” the notary replied calmly. “Don Ricardo also left an explanatory letter, which he requests be read in your presence.” He took out an envelope sealed with the Castilian emblem, carefully opened it, and removed several handwritten pages.

“If you are hearing this, it means I am no longer among you,” the notary read. “And it also means that Elena had the courage to come forward despite all the harm this family, my family, has caused her.” I felt a lump in my throat as Doña Mercedes snorted with contempt. “During the last year of my illness, I discovered something that broke my heart. My own son, Javier, has been systematically diverting funds from the company. He created shell companies to funnel money away from our legitimate projects, leaving investors and contractors unpaid.”

“Lies!” Javier shouted, but his voice trembled. “The evidence is in the safe in my office, the combination to which is now known only to Notary Herrera and Elena. Elena always had the integrity my son lacked and the professional vision our company needs. I apologize for not seeing what was happening sooner and for not protecting her as she deserved.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. I remembered the few times Don Ricardo tried to approach me, always interrupted by Doña Mercedes.

“This is ridiculous,” Doña Mercedes interjected. “She obviously manipulated Ricardo in his final days. We all know she only married my son for his money.” “You know perfectly well that wasn’t the case,” I replied, finding my voice. “I loved your son. I gave up my career to support him.” The notary continued reading. “Elena, I know I could have reported Javier directly, but that would have destroyed everything I’ve built. Instead, I’m giving you the power to decide how to proceed. I trust your judgment more than my own son’s.”

Javier stood up abruptly, throwing his chair back. “I won’t allow this woman to take control of what belongs to me.” His face was red with anger. “The Castellanos’ estate will not be left in the hands of a charlatan.” “Mr. Castellanos, I remind you that we are in a notary’s office,” Herrera warned. “If you continue to disturb the peace, I will have to ask you to leave.” Camila, who had remained silent, finally spoke. “Javier, please calm down.” Her voice sounded strained. “You shut up,” he snapped.

This doesn’t concern you. I saw Camila flinch at his words, a gesture I knew all too well. Was she perhaps beginning to receive the same treatment I was? The notary continued reading additional documents that explained the legal terms of my new position. As I listened, I watched the Castellanos family crumble before my eyes. Doña Mercedes muttered prayers as if this were a divine catastrophe. Javier alternated between veiled threats and insincere pleas to me. “Mrs. Valenzuela,” the notary finally said when he finished.

“These are the documents that prove your new position. You can review them with your lawyer as well. This is the key to Don Ricardo’s safe.” I took the papers and the small golden key with trembling hands. “This isn’t over,” Javier whispered as I walked past him. “I’ll destroy you before I let you take what’s mine.” I looked him straight in the eyes, those brown eyes I once believed were sincere. “You already tried to destroy me once, Javier. It didn’t work.” I left the notary’s office with my head held high, though inside I was trembling.

Outside, the mid-morning sun beat down on my face. I took a deep breath of the city air as the events settled in my mind. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around, startled. It was Camila. Her eyes were red. “Elena, I need to talk to you,” she said quietly. “But not here. He can’t find out.” “Why should I trust you?” I asked coldly. “Because I’m just as trapped as you were,” she replied. “And because there’s more you should know.” Before I could answer, Javier and Doña Mercedes came out of the building.

Camila walked away quickly, leaving me with a thousand questions. That night, alone in my small apartment, I spread the documents out on the table: 40% of Grupo Castellanos, effective control over the company where I had once been treated like an ornament, and somewhere a safe with evidence that could send my ex-husband to jail. I picked up my phone and called Patricia. “We have a lot of work to do,” I told her when she answered. “Prepare for a war.” Two days after the reading of the will, I was reviewing documents in my apartment when my cell phone rang.

It was an unknown number. “Hello?” I answered cautiously. “Elena, this is Rodrigo Sandoval, CFO of Grupo Castellanos.” His voice sounded nervous. “I need to speak with you urgently. Javier has called an extraordinary board meeting for tomorrow.” “A meeting. No one has notified me of anything.” “Exactly,” he replied. “They’re trying to make decisions before you can exercise your rights. Don Ricardo trusted you, and I trusted Don Ricardo for 20 years.” We agreed to meet at a coffee shop away from the financial district. Rodrigo turned out to be a man in his fifties with glasses and a perpetually worried expression.

“I’ve been gathering my own evidence,” he told me as he discreetly handed me a folder. I’d suspected irregularities for months, but Don Ricardo was very ill, and I didn’t want to disturb him. I reviewed the documents: suspicious transfers, contracts with nonexistent companies, forged signatures. “Why are you helping me?” I asked bluntly. “You could lose your job.” Rodrigo sighed. “I mean, because I’ve spent my entire professional life at Grupo Castellanos. I’m not going to watch Javier destroy it out of greed.” The next day, I went to Grupo Castellanos’ headquarters in Polanco.

The glass and steel building I had once helped design stood imposingly. At the reception desk, security tried to stop me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re not on our authorized list.” I pulled out my notarized documents. “I’m Elena Valenzuela, the majority shareholder of this company, and this meeting cannot take place without my presence.” The guard nervously called someone over. Minutes later, Javier appeared, looking furious. “What are you doing here?” he hissed. “You’re making a fool of yourself. I’m here for the board meeting.”

As the majority shareholder, I have the right to be present. This is an informal meeting, not an official board meeting, he lied blatantly. You’re interrupting. Then why are all the directors here? I gestured toward the elevator, where several executives were watching us curiously. Can I call Notary Herrera right now to clarify my rights, or can we go up civilly? Javier glared at me, but he gave in. No one spoke in the elevator. The directors were giving me furtive glances while I maintained my composure, even though inside I was terrified.

The boardroom was just as I remembered it, a huge glass table with panoramic views of the city. As we entered, everyone stood politely, except for Doña Mercedes, who was at the head of the table. “That’s Don Ricardo’s place,” I said firmly. “And now, as the majority shareholder, it’s mine.” “Insolent,” Doña Mercedes muttered, but she moved. The tension was palpable as she took her seat. “Gentlemen,” Javier began with his best salesman’s smile, “I’d like to introduce you to my ex-wife, who apparently inherited some of my father’s shares.”

Of course, we are resolving this irregularity legally. It’s not just a few actions, I corrected myself, it’s 40% under effective control. And before we continue, I need to understand why the Laguna Azul project is moving forward when its environmental impact studies are incomplete. The room fell silent. One of the directors, an older man I remembered as an ally of Javier’s, coughed uncomfortably. “Ms. Valenzuela, those technicalities are irrelevant to this meeting.” “Technicalities,” I repeated. “Contaminating a protected wetland is not a technicality; it’s an environmental crime and exposes the company to multimillion-dollar fines.”

I saw Rodrigo nodding discreetly from his seat. Javier slammed his fist on the table. Enough. My ex-wife is exploiting an irregular situation to sow unfounded doubts. I remind you that she has no experience in business management. Perhaps not, I replied calmly, but I am an architect specializing in sustainable development, and I can spot fraud when I see it. The meeting turned into a battleground. Javier tried to invalidate every one of my points, but I was prepared. Thanks to Rodrigo and my own research, I was able to question several problematic projects with full knowledge of the facts.

When the meeting ended, I had at least managed to sow seeds of doubt among the directors. As I gathered my documents, a young woman approached me. “I’m Tomás Vega, an environmental engineer on the Laguna Azul project,” she introduced herself in a low voice. “I’ve been trying for months to get someone to listen to my concerns about this project. If you’re willing to help, I have all the documentation.” I gave her my card. “Call me tomorrow.” As I left, Camila was waiting for me by the elevators. “Can we talk?” she asked. “In private.” I hesitated, but agreed. We met at a small café a few blocks from the office.

Camila seemed to have lost weight since the last time I saw her. Her hands trembled slightly. “I know I have no right to ask you for anything,” she began. “What I did is inexcusable.” “Then why are we here?” I asked coldly. Camila pulled a small USB drive from her bag. “Because I’ve been trying to leave Javier for months, but he has me trapped.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s threatened to destroy my career if I leave him.” “I know his tactics all too well,” I replied, feeling an involuntary pang of empathy.

“Here’s more evidence,” he slid the USB drive toward me. “He’s been falsifying environmental impact studies for the Laguna Azul project. If construction continues, it will destroy protected wetlands.” I looked at the device skeptically. How do I know this isn’t a trap? “You can’t know,” he admitted. “But you’ll soon find out that I’m pregnant with Javier’s child, and I don’t want my son to grow up with a corrupt father and a manipulative grandmother. You’re my only hope.” The news hit me like a punch to the gut. The same man who had sworn he didn’t want children with me was going to be a father with his mistress.

“Does Javier know?” I asked. Camila shook her head. “Not yet. And I’m afraid of his reaction.” I took the USB drive and put it in my bag. “I’m not doing this for you,” I explained. “I’m doing it for the company and for Don Ricardo’s memory.” When we said goodbye, I watched her walk away. Was she being manipulated again, or was Camila really another one of Javier’s victims? That night, Patricia and I reviewed the contents of the USB drive. Sure enough, it contained original environmental studies and their falsified versions.

“This is pure dynamite,” Patricia commented. “With this, we could halt the project and corner Javier, but it could also be a trap.” I reflected. “I need to verify this information independently.” My phone buzzed with a message from Javier. “This can end two ways, Elena. With me as your ally or as your worst enemy. Think it through.” Patricia noticed my expression. “What’s wrong?” I showed her the message. “The war has only just begun.” The office that once belonged to Don Ricardo remained untouched.

The architecture books he had given me were still on the shelves. I sat in his leather armchair, holding the small golden key the notary had given me. The safe was hidden behind a painting of the Castellanos hacienda, the family property in Cuernavaca. “Are you sure you want to do this alone?” asked Rodrigo, who had helped me sneak in over the weekend. “I need to do this myself,” I replied, “but thank you for helping me get here.”

When Rodrigo closed the door, he took out a small, discreet key. I inserted it and turned the keyhole. Inside, I found several carefully labeled folders and an envelope with my name on it. I opened the envelope first. Elena. If you’re reading this, it means you had the courage to stand up to my family. What you find here will give you the power to protect what I’ve built or to dismantle it if you so choose. I trust your judgment, Ricardo. With trembling hands, I began to examine the folders. Each one contained meticulously organized evidence.

Bank transfers, printed emails, forged contracts. Don Ricardo had documented Javier’s every fraudulent move for three years, but what truly shocked me was the folder labeled “marriage.” Inside were reports from private investigators about me, dated before I met Javier, photos of me leaving my old architecture studio, copies of my university awards, analyses of my sustainable design patents, and a document signed by Doña Mercedes, which read, “Valenzuela patent acquisition plan.” Suddenly, everything clicked.

Our chance meeting at that architecture exhibition, Javier’s sudden interest, his insistence that I leave my firm to join Grupo Castellanos—they had chosen me, not out of love, but because of my eco-design patents, worth millions. Tears blurred my vision as memories flooded my mind. The first time Javier called me too naive for business when Doña Mercedes suggested that my role was to support my husband, not compete with him. How they gradually sidelined me from important projects until I was just the boss’s wife.

“I can’t believe it,” I murmured, though deep down I’d always suspected it. “Are you absolutely sure?” Patricia asked the next day as we reviewed the documents in my apartment. “This is much bigger than we thought. Every signature is verified. Every document is authentic,” I replied. Doña Mercedes was not only aware of Javier’s frauds, but she was laundering the money through her charitable foundations. And the marriage. Patricia left the sentence hanging. It was all a corporate strategy.

I finished bitterly. They chose me for my patents. They isolated me from my family and friends. And when I was no longer useful to them, they discarded me, Patricia concluded. Those wretches. My phone vibrated with a message from Tomás Vega. I’ve reviewed the documents. Everything matches. Construction at Laguna Azul must stop immediately. The damage could be irreversible. I need to see that land. I decided. If we’re going to confront Javier, I need solid evidence. The Laguna Azul project was located two hours from Mexico City.

It was a beautiful piece of land, a lake surrounded by wetlands with impressive biodiversity. Javier planned to build a luxury resort that, according to the forged documents, would respect the natural environment. Tomás guided me as we walked along the lake shore. “This is where they plan to build the main hotel,” he said, pointing to an area of ​​reeds. This wetland naturally filters the water and is home to protected species. If they destroy it, the entire ecosystem will collapse. “And these would be the bungalows?” I asked, indicating an area marked on the plans.

Exactly. Built on stilts that would penetrate directly into the aquifer. A complete ecological disaster. While we were taking photos and samples, I noticed a black pickup truck parked in the distance. “Tomás, I think they’re watching us,” I whispered. “They’re company security,” he replied quietly. “Ever since I started asking uncomfortable questions, they follow me everywhere.” Suddenly, two men began to approach. We quickly packed up our equipment. “Ms. Valenzuela,” one of them recognized me. “Mr. Castellanos informed us that you might turn up around here.”

This is private property. I’m the majority shareholder of Grupo Castellanos, I replied firmly. I have every right to inspect our projects. Even so, we need to ask you to leave, she insisted, subtly touching the pistol she carried under her jacket. Tomás and I left without further discussion. In the car, my phone rang. It was Javier. Enjoying the scenery, darling. His voice sounded mocking. You should be careful. Accidents happen easily in rural areas. Are you threatening me, Javier? I’m just worried about my ex-wife, he replied with feigned sweetness.

By the way, you already checked my father’s safe. Interesting read, wasn’t it? Especially the part about our marriage. I felt a chill. How do you know? I have eyes everywhere, Elena. Always one step ahead of you, like when you believed our marriage was real. I hung up, my hands trembling. Tomás looked at me, worried. Okay. I didn’t admit it, but I’m going to be. That night I returned to my apartment to find the door forced open. I went inside cautiously. Everything had been ransacked, but strangely, nothing valuable seemed to be missing.

I immediately called Patricia. “They’ve broken into my house,” I told her as I surveyed the mess. “They were looking for the documents. They had them with you.” “I always carry them with me,” I replied, patting my purse. “But this is a declaration of war. You need protection, Elena. This isn’t a game anymore.” While cleaning up the mess, I found a photo of Javier and me from our wedding torn in half. When I turned it over, there was a message written on it: “Remember your place.” That’s when I made my decision. It wasn’t just about a company or justice for Don Ricardo anymore; it was about reclaiming my dignity, my job, my life.

That same night I drafted an email calling an extraordinary meeting of the Board of Directors regarding irregularities in the Laguna Azul project and embezzlement of corporate funds. As I clicked send, my phone rang. It was Camila. “Elena, be careful,” Javier whispered. “He’s furious. I’ve never seen him like this.” “Too late for warnings, Camila. This ends now. There’s something else you need to know.” His voice trembled. “About Doña Mercedes and the documents she forged in your name.” My heart raced. “What are you talking about?”

She manipulated documents to make it look like you had authorized illegal transfers. If you confront them, they’ll blame everything on you. After hanging up, I stared out the window at the city lights. The trap was clear. If I moved forward, they would try to destroy me. If I retreated, Javier would win. I picked up my phone again and called Rodrigo. “I need full access to the financial records for the last five years,” I told him, “and I need it tonight.” “It’s risky,” he replied, “but I’ll do it.”

Don Ricardo trusted you, and so did I. The battle for Grupo Castellanos had officially begun, and this time I wasn’t going to lose. The Grupo Castellanos boardroom had never seemed so imposing to me. Through the windows, the Mexico City skyline unfolded, but my gaze was fixed on the twelve people seated around the glass table. Each face displayed tension, curiosity, or concern. I appreciate your presence at this extraordinary meeting.

I began, trying to keep my voice from betraying my nervousness. As the majority shareholder of Grupo Castellanos, it is my duty to inform you about serious irregularities I have discovered. Javier, seated across from me, wore a confident smile. Beside him, Doña Mercedes watched me with barely concealed disdain. They both believed they had the situation under control. Before we begin, I would like to formally introduce myself, I continued. Many know me as Javier’s ex-wife. But I am Elena Valenzuela, an architect specializing in sustainable design with three registered patents currently used by this company.

I noticed some directors nodding respectfully, others avoiding my gaze, clearly uncomfortable. “My primary concern is the Laguna Azul project.” I projected the photographs I had taken with Tomás. The environmental impact studies submitted to the authorities don’t reflect the reality of the land. “Elena, please,” Javier interrupted condescendingly. “We all have experience in real estate development. There are always technical adjustments to projects.” “The most technical adjustments are falsifying official documents?” I replied, projecting the original studies alongside the manipulated ones.

“This isn’t just adjustments, Javier, it’s fraud.” A murmur rippled through the room. Javier maintained his composure, but I noticed his jaw tightening. “These accusations are serious,” one of the senior directors interjected. “Do you have proof of who authorized these changes?” “I do,” I confirmed, displaying printed emails. “All the alterations were ordered directly by Javier Castellanos and approved by the previous board. However, the documents present an interesting irregularity.” I projected an authorization with my supposed signature. “This isn’t my signature,” I declared.

I never authorized these modifications. In fact, I resigned from my position in the architecture department months before these documents were created. Doña Mercedes cleared her throat. “My dear, these are very serious accusations against my son. Could it be that you’re confused? The divorce has been difficult for everyone.” I looked directly at her, confused as I was when I discovered that my marriage had been orchestrated to acquire my patents. An awkward silence fell over the room. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, but her voice trembled slightly.

I took the documents out of Don Ricardo’s safe. “I’m referring to this plan you signed to acquire the Valenzuela patents through a strategic marriage alliance.” Javier stood up abruptly. “This is ridiculous. We’re here to talk business, not absurd conspiracies.” “Business and conspiracies are perfectly intertwined in your case,” I replied calmly. “Because while you were using me to acquire valuable patents, you were also diverting company funds to personal accounts.” With the help of Rodrigo, who was handling the presentation, I showed detailed charts of irregular financial flows.

In the last three years, more than 175 million pesos have been funneled into shell companies—companies that, curiously, share the same registered address as charitable foundations headed by Mercedes Castellanos. The room erupted in heated conversation. Javier slammed his fist on the table. “Enough. This is personal revenge disguised as business concern. If it’s revenge, it’s not mine.” I replied, “Don Ricardo documented your every move. He uncovered your fraud before he died.” I showed Don Ricardo’s handwritten letter detailing his findings.

Several directors read it with shocked expressions. Just when the tension seemed unbearable, the door opened. It was Camila, holding a folder and visibly nervous. “Excuse the interruption,” she said, her voice trembling, “but there is additional information the board needs to know.” Javier glared at her. “Camila, this is not the time.” “On the contrary,” she replied, surprising us all with her firmness. “This is exactly the time.” Camila opened her folder and began distributing documents. “As Mr. Castellanos’s executive assistant for the past two years, I had access to confidential information.”

These are records of private meetings with investors in the Laguna Azul project, where the intention to evade environmental regulations was explicitly discussed. Javier turned pale. “Camila, think carefully about what you’re doing.” “I’ve been thinking about it for months,” she replied, placing a hand on her slightly rounded belly. “Especially now that I’m expecting a child. Your child.” The revelation caused a shock. Doña Mercedes clutched her chest in horror. “You’re pregnant?” Javier asked, stunned. “And you decide to betray me like this?” “Seeking the truth isn’t betrayal,” Camila replied.

I don’t want my son to grow up in a family built on lies like yours. I felt strangely connected to her. We had both been used by Javier in different ways. I seized the moment to continue. Ladies and gentlemen of the board, I understand these revelations are shocking, but we have a responsibility to our investors, employees, and the law. I propose three immediate actions. I projected my proposals: temporarily suspend Javier from his executive duties while an investigation is conducted, immediately halt the Blue Lagoon project, and hire an independent external auditor.

“This is a corporate coup!” Javier shouted. “My father would be ashamed.” “Your father uncovered your frauds,” I reminded him. “That’s why he left me his shares.” The vote was tense. Several directors, clearly loyal to Javier, voted against it, but with my 40% stake and the support of Rodrigo and other independent directors, we secured the necessary majority. “The temporary suspension is approved,” the board secretary announced. Javier glared at me with visceral hatred. “This isn’t over, Elena. You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

“You’re wrong,” I replied. “I know exactly who I’m dealing with. I lived with him for seven years.” As the directors began to leave, Javier approached me. He lowered his voice so only I could hear him. “Tell me your price.” His tone was almost pleading. “Everyone has one. What do you want to leave?” “Money.” “A house?” “I can give you anything.” I looked into those eyes I once believed were sincere. “I wanted dignity when I was your wife. Now I want justice.” I turned to leave, but his next words stopped me.

If you continue with this, I will destroy everything you love. Remember, I know your weaknesses. I didn’t answer. I left the room with a firm step, though inside I was trembling. Camila was waiting for me in the hallway. “Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I know how difficult that was.” She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “I was afraid, but seeing you face them gave me courage.” “What will you do now?” I asked. “Leave,” she replied. “I have family in Monterrey. I’ll start over there.” We said goodbye with a strange mutual understanding. Rivals turned allies by circumstance.

When I arrived at the parking lot, Rodrigo caught up with me. “Congratulations,” he said. “But this is just the beginning. Javier has many powerful allies.” “I know,” I replied as I got into my car. “That’s why I need you to be my eyes and ears at the company while I’m gone.” “Where are you going?” “To file a formal complaint,” I answered. “It’s time for justice to be served at Grupo Castellanos.” The following months passed in a whirlwind. The formal complaint against Javier for fraud and environmental crimes unleashed a media storm.

“Heiress to Grupo Castellanos denounces internal corruption,” the headlines read. Suddenly, my face was plastered all over newspapers and news programs, something I wasn’t prepared for. “Don’t look at the comments on social media,” Patricia advised me as we reviewed documents in my new office at Grupo Castellanos. “Javier is using his connections to discredit you.” It was true. Sources close to me were describing my supposed emotional instability, my unbridled ambition, even fabricating affairs with company executives. The smear campaign was underway. “I don’t care what they say about me,” I replied, though deep down, every comment stung.

“The important thing is to save the company and the Laguna Azul project. We managed to stop construction just in time. Independent environmental studies confirmed our suspicions. The original project would have irreparably destroyed the ecosystem. Now, with Tomás’s help and a team of eco-architects, we were completely redesigning the concept. The new design preserves the wetlands intact,” he explained while showing the plans to nervous investors. “The floating bungalows won’t impact the subsoil and will use solar energy. It will be Mexico’s first truly sustainable resort.”

It wasn’t easy to convince them, but gradually the vision began to take shape. Several international investors, attracted by the green approach, decided to increase their stake. At the office, the transition was complicated. Some employees saw me as the villain who had ousted Javier. Others, especially women who had suffered under his sexist attitude, discreetly supported me. “Time will tell,” Rodrigo, who had become my right-hand man, advised me. “Loyalty isn’t earned with speeches, but with actions.” We implemented new financial transparency protocols.

Every peso spent had to be justified and documented. Meetings were recorded to avoid misunderstandings. Little by little, we were cleaning up the company. One afternoon, while I was reviewing reports in what had been Don Ricardo’s office, Rodrigo came in with a grave expression. “They just called from Hospital Ángeles. Doña Mercedes suffered a stroke this morning.” The news took me by surprise. “It’s serious. Very serious. And there’s an additional problem,” Rodrigo added. “You’re listed as her emergency contact on old medical documents.”

Apparently, she never updated them after the divorce. I was stunned. What about Javier? He’s in legal proceedings and is prohibited from contacting board members, including his mother. I remained silent, processing the irony of the situation. The woman who had manipulated and scorned me for years was now depending on me for medical decisions. I’ll go to the hospital, I finally decided. Patricia looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. Why would you get involved? After everything she did to you, I’m not doing it for her, I replied.

I’m doing this for myself. I don’t want to become what she was, someone who uses people like disposable objects. The hospital was a modern building in the hills. When I arrived at the private room, the sight of Doña Mercedes connected to machines, small and frail in bed, shocked me. The imposing woman who had always intimidated me now seemed like a vulnerable old woman. “Mrs. Valenzuela,” the doctor greeted me. “The patient is stable, but she has lost mobility on her right side.”

We needed her authorization for some procedures. I signed the necessary documents and stayed alone with her for a moment. Although unconscious, her presence was still powerful. “I’ll never understand why you hated me so much,” I murmured. “I just wanted to be part of your family.” To my surprise, Doña Mercedes opened her eyes. Elena. Her voice was barely audible. “No, you should be here. I’m her emergency contact,” I explained. “No one else could come.” She tried to move, but couldn’t. Tears of frustration streamed down her cheeks.

“Everything ruined,” she managed to say. “My family destroyed.” “You and Javier destroyed your own family with your actions,” I replied calmly. “Don Ricardo found out everything.” She was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Ricardo never forgave me,” she whispered, “because of the other woman.” The revelation left me speechless. Don Ricardo had also been deceived. “I built all this to protect Javier,” she continued with difficulty, “so that what I went through would never happen to him.” For the first time, I saw Doña Mercedes as a wounded woman who had passed on her pain to the next generation.

I didn’t condone his actions, but at least I was beginning to understand them. “Rest,” I said, getting up to leave. “I’ll make sure you get the care you need.” As I reached the door, his weak voice stopped me. “The left drawer of Ricardo’s desk. There’s something for you.” That same night, I returned to Don Ricardo’s office. The building was almost empty; only a few employees remained, working overtime. I opened the left drawer of his desk and found nothing. I was about to give up when I noticed the bottom sounded hollow.

I pressed it and discovered a secret compartment. Inside was an old photograph of me receiving a university architecture award next to a handwritten note. The daughter I wished I had. Tears blurred my vision. Don Ricardo had seen my worth long before I recognized it myself. He had given me the tools to recover not only the company, but my dignity. I also found a small USB drive with a sticky note in case everything else failed. On my computer, I discovered it contained recordings of conversations between Javier and his accomplices, openly discussing how to forge documents and bribe officials.

It was the final piece we needed for the legal case. The next day, I handed the device over to the prosecution. Weeks later, Javier accepted a plea deal in exchange for a reduced sentence. The transformation of Grupo Castellanos was progressing gradually. We implemented a corporate integrity program and hired several of my former colleagues from sustainable architecture. The Laguna Azul project became our flagship, a model of tourism development in harmony with nature. Investors are impressed, Rodrigo informed me during a meeting.

The stock has risen 12% since we announced the new approach. It’s not just about money, I replied. It’s about changing the way we do business. One afternoon, while I was overseeing the construction at Laguna Azul with Tomás, I received a message from Camila. Thank you for everything. Nicolás and I are doing well in Monterrey. I hope you’ve found the peace you deserve. She attached a photo of her newborn baby. I felt a mix of emotions. The pain of the past mingled with a certain satisfaction at how things had changed.

“Good news,” Tomás asked, noticing my expression. “News from the past,” I replied, putting my phone away. “But now I’m focused on the future.” “Speaking of the future,” he smiled. “The engineers believe we can implement an additional natural filtration system that would further reduce our impact.” As we walked around the site discussing improvements to the project, I realized how much I had changed in just a few months. I was no longer the insecure woman who let others define her worth. I had reclaimed not only a company, but myself.

That night, visiting Doña Mercedes at the rehabilitation center where we had transferred her, I found her more lucid. “You’ve changed the company,” she remarked with difficulty. “For the better,” I replied. “Now it’s what Don Ricardo always wanted it to be.” “He would be proud,” she admitted, surprising me. “Of you, not of us.” I stood watching her. This woman who had caused me so much harm—revenge would have been easy. Abandon her, deny her quality medical care. But that wasn’t my path. I’m not doing this to seek her approval, I clarified.

Not even Don Ricardo’s. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. When I stood up to leave, she took my hand weakly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered so softly I barely heard her. I didn’t respond to anything. Some wounds were too deep to heal with a simple apology, but I felt something release inside me. Leaving the medical center, I breathed deeply into the cool night air. My phone rang. It was Patricia. “How was the visit to the wicked witch?” she asked, half-jokingly.

“Revealing,” I replied. We had dinner. “I have an idea for a new project I want to discuss with you.” “You never rest,” she laughed. “I rested during seven years of marriage,” I answered. “Now I have a lot to catch up on.” A year had passed since that tense board meeting where I confronted Javier and Doña Mercedes. The afternoon sun bathed the Laguna Azul ecotourism complex in golden light during its official opening. The floating bungalows, designed with my sustainable patents, were perfectly reflected in the crystal-clear waters of the lake.

“It’s more beautiful than we imagined,” Tomás remarked beside me as we watched the guests tour the facilities. “And the environmental impact is practically zero.” “Every battle was worth it,” I replied, recalling the obstacles we had overcome. The transformation of Grupo Castellanos had been profound. We had implemented a corporate code of ethics that had become a benchmark for other companies in the sector. Our transparent practices attracted new international investors, especially those committed to sustainability. Among the crowd, I spotted Patricia, chatting animatedly with some foreign executives.

She smiled at me and raised her glass in a silent toast. Without her, none of this would have been possible. Rodrigo approached with a tablet in hand. The first online reviews are coming in. Everyone is praising the concept. “What about the employee satisfaction survey?” I asked. “87% approval,” he replied proudly. “Last year we barely reached 40%. We had prioritized creating a respectful and equitable work environment. Many women now hold management positions that previously seemed reserved exclusively for men.”

The toxic culture that Javier had fostered was gradually becoming a thing of the past. During the event, several journalists approached me for interviews. I was no longer bothered by the media attention as I once was. “Architect Valenzuela, how does it feel to have completely transformed the company that tried to destroy you?” a reporter asked. “I didn’t come here to destroy or to seek revenge,” I replied calmly. “I came to build something better. In architecture, we learn that the strongest structures are those that adapt to their environment rather than impose themselves upon it.”

I applied the same principle to the company. As I walked through the complex, greeting investors and officials, I reflected on the long road to this moment. Javier was serving a reduced three-year sentence thanks to his plea deal. According to my sources, he was teaching management classes to other inmates and seemed to have accepted his situation. Camila and her young son, Nicolás, were living in Monterrey. I occasionally received messages from her with photos of the boy. She had found a job at a marketing agency and was beginning to rebuild her life.

We would never be close friends. There was too much history between us, but there was a mutual respect based on shared experiences. Doña Mercedes had survived the stroke, although she was left with permanent aftereffects. She now lived in a luxury assisted living facility in Cuernavaca. I visited her once a month, not out of obligation, but as part of my own healing process. Our conversations were brief and sometimes awkward, but over time we had reached a kind of silent truce. During one of those meetings, she revealed to me that she herself had suffered a betrayal similar to mine in her youth.

Don Ricardo had had a mistress for years, something Doña Mercedes discovered when Javier was a child. Instead of divorcing, she chose to remain married and build an empire to protect her son. “You could have left him,” she told me in one of our last conversations. I didn’t have that freedom. I understood then that her contempt for me was rooted in her own history. It didn’t justify her actions, but at least I understood them better. As night fell, the formal inauguration ceremony began by the lake.

As CEO and principal shareholder of Grupo Castellanos, it was my turn to give the opening speech. A year and a half ago, this project was destined to destroy a unique ecosystem. I started it. Today, we celebrate not only new ownership but a new business philosophy. Sustainable development is not an obstacle to profitability, but its greatest ally. As I spoke, my gaze swept over the faces of those who had accompanied me on this journey. Rodrigo, who had risked his career to support me. Tomás, whose commitment to the environment had saved the wetlands.

Patricia, my rock during the darkest moments. This project isn’t just mine, I continued. It belongs to everyone who believed it was possible to do things differently. After the event ended, I stepped away from the bustle to contemplate the lake in the moonlight. The sounds of the party faded into the distance. “A peso for your thoughts?” Patricia asked, approaching with two glasses of champagne. “I was thinking about Don Ricardo,” I confessed. I wonder if he would be proud.

“I would be,” she affirmed, handing me a glass. “But the most important thing is whether you’re proud of yourself,” I reflected on the question. The journey had been difficult. There were times when I doubted myself, when I feared becoming what I was fighting against. “I am,” I finally answered, not because of the project’s success, but because I didn’t lose myself in the process. We toasted as the moon reflected on the lake. Patricia told me about the New Horizons Foundation we had established to support young female architects.

We were about to award the first scholarships. “By the way,” she added with a knowing smile, “I saw the way Tomás looked at you, and the way you looked at him.” I felt a slight blush creep across my face. Tomás and I had developed a close professional friendship during the project, but we were both cautious about crossing that line. It’s complicated, I admitted. After everything that’s happened, I don’t know if I’m ready. “The heart heals at its own pace,” Patricia replied. “There’s no rush.” We returned to the celebration where Rodrigo was organizing a nighttime tour along the illuminated paths of the complex.

I joined the group, walking alongside Tomás, who was enthusiastically explaining the low-energy lighting system. When the guests had left and only the core team remained, we gathered around a bonfire on the lake’s shore. “I propose a toast,” said Rodrigo, raising his glass. “To Elena, who showed us that integrity is non-negotiable. To Laguna Azul,” added Tomás, “a project that protects instead of destroying.” And to us, I finished, “To this new family we’ve formed.” I looked at these people who had become my inner circle.

We weren’t related by blood, but we shared deeper values: respect, integrity, a common purpose. Later, walking alone along the lake shore, I took the old photograph Don Ricardo had kept from my pocket—my young, hopeful face receiving that university award. “We did it,” I murmured to the photo as if speaking to him. A gentle breeze stirred the lake’s waters. In the moon’s reflection, for a moment, I thought I saw not only the strong woman I had become, but also the young architect who dreamed of changing the world. In a way, we had both won.