Chapter 9 - Clearing the Estate
The 72-hour eviction notice served to the Ortega household was executed with absolute, unyielding precision.
By Monday morning, a convoy of professional moving trucks and private security personnel pulled up to the iron gates of the sprawling suburban mansion that had once symbolized the family’s hollow pride.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with despair, panic, and bitter recrimination.
Beatriz Ortega wandered aimlessly through the expansive living room, dressed in a wrinkled house dress, refusing to pack her personal belongings into the cheap cardboard boxes scattered across the floor.
“This is all a mistake! It’s an illegal seizure!” Beatriz shrieked hysterically, pointing a trembling finger at the Horizonte Capital bailiff standing near the doorway. “You can’t throw us out on the street! We have social standing! We belong in this neighborhood!”
The senior bailiff, a towering man with a stony expression, didn’t even blink.
“Your social standing expired when your corporate mortgage defaulted, Mrs. Ortega. You have exactly thirty minutes to clear the premises before remaining personal property is inventoried and placed into municipal storage.”
Mauricio sat slumped on the edge of the grand piano in the corner, staring blankly at his polished Italian leather shoes, looking like a ghost of the man who had strutted around his wedding reception wearing an expensive suit.
His father was still locked in a holding cell downtown, awaiting formal arraignment on multiple counts of federal fraud and commercial bribery.
The empire his father had spent thirty years building had vanished into thin air in less than four days, entirely because of one fatal mistake: underestimating an orphaned administrative assistant named Valeria Cruz.
“Mauricio, do something!” Beatriz hissed, grabbing her son’s shoulder and shaking him violently. “Call your friends! Call our business associates! Surely someone will lend us a car, an apartment, some money!”
Mauricio let out a hollow, bitter laugh that sounded more like a dry sob.
“Friends?” he muttered, looking up with red, bloodshot eyes. “What friends, Mom? As soon as the news broke that Horizonte Capital seized our accounts and federal marshals raided the warehouse, every single person we knew blocked my number.”
“Because they’re cowards!”
“No,” Mauricio whispered, the brutal truth finally sinking into his fractured mind. “Because we have nothing left. We’re broke, homeless, and disgraced.”
A sleek black sedan pulled up smoothly to the front entrance of the estate.
The rear door opened, and Eduardo Silva, the lead litigation counsel for Horizonte Capital, stepped out onto the paved driveway, accompanied by two armed private security guards.
He walked up the front steps, stepping past the open oak doors without knocking.
Beatriz spun around, her face twisting into a mask of pure venom as she saw the lawyer enter.
“You!” she screamed, lunging forward before the security guards stepped smoothly between her and Eduardo. “You’re the monsters behind this! Tell that ungrateful little bitch Valeria that she can’t destroy us like this! We’ll sue her! We’ll expose her!”
Eduardo adjusted his tie, looking at Beatriz with the mild, detached amusement one might accord an annoying insect.
“Mrs. Ortega, threatening the Chairperson of Horizonte Capital while standing inside a foreclosed property you no longer own is not a very legally sound strategy,” Eduardo replied smoothly.
He pulled a single manila folder from under his arm and flipped it open.
“I am here to oversee the formal handover of keys and inventory verification. Furthermore, personal restitution claims have been filed against both you and your son for damages, harassment, and domestic assault.”
Mauricio stood up slowly from the piano bench, his legs shaking slightly under his weight.
“Where is she?” Mauricio asked hoarsely, staring at the lawyer. “Does Vale... does Chairperson Cruz want to see me one last time? Just... just let me talk to her for two minutes. I want to apologize.”
Eduardo chuckled softly, shaking his head.
“Mr. Ortega, our Chairperson has a multi-billion-peso investment fund to run, international acquisitions to manage, and a very busy schedule. You no longer register on her radar. You are simply a closed case in our legal archives.”
Eduardo snapped the folder shut and handed the house keys basket to the bailiff standing nearby.
May you like
“You have fifteen minutes left, Mr. Ortega. I suggest you start walking.”
With that, Eduardo turned around, walked back down the steps, climbed into his sedan, and drove away, leaving the Ortega family standing on the curb of their former kingdom with nothing left but the clothes on their backs.
