Chapter 4 - The Eviction
Forty-eight hours later.
The quiet, residential street in the affluent neighborhood of Zapopan was blocked by two large yellow moving vans and four unmarked police sedans.
Beatriz Ortega stood on her front porch, screaming hysterically at a team of court bailiffs who were busy placing yellow judicial seals across the front door of her multi-story home.
“You can’t do this!” Beatriz shrieked, clutching her designer handbag against her chest. “This is my family’s house! My husband bought this thirty years ago!”
The chief bailiff, a stern woman carrying a thick stack of court orders, did not look up from her clipboard.
“Mrs. Ortega, this property was used as secondary collateral for a corporate loan line issued by Ortega & Sons Logistics. Since the business defaulted on its debt obligations yesterday morning, the court has ordered an immediate asset liquidation to satisfy outstanding creditors.”
“It’s that girl!” Beatriz screamed, her face red and distorted with rage. “It’s that orphan, Valeria! She’s doing this to get back at us! Mauricio, call the police!”
Mauricio sat on the edge of the porch steps, his head buried in his hands.
He was wearing the same clothes he had worn to Valeria’s office two days ago. He hadn't slept, he hadn't eaten, and his phone had been ringing continuously with calls from angry business partners, suppliers, and tax inspectors.
“Mom, shut up,” Mauricio muttered weakly, his voice broken. “Just shut up.”
“Don't tell me to shut up!” Beatriz yelled, turning on her son. “You’re the man of this house! Why aren't you stopping this? Why don't you make that orphan girl pay for what she’s doing to our family?”
“She isn't an orphan, Mom!” Mauricio screamed, standing up suddenly, his eyes wild with anger and exhaustion. “She owns Horizonte Capital! She owns our bank! She owns the company that bought our warehouse! She has billions of pesos!”
Beatriz went completely still, her mouth hanging open. “What... what did you say?”
“She lied to us!” Mateo chimed in from the lawn, holding a box of his clothes. “She’s one of the richest women in the country! She was testing us, and you made her wash dirty underwear on her wedding night!”
Beatriz stumbled back against the doorframe, her hand clutching her chest as her face turned completely pale.
“Billions?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “She... she has billions?”
Before anyone could answer, a luxury silver sedan pulled up to the curb.
The rear door opened, and Eduardo Silva stepped out, accompanied by two armed private security guards. He walked up the driveway, holding a black leather briefcase.
“Beatriz Ortega? Mauricio Ortega?” Eduardo asked smoothly.
Mauricio looked up, his body instantly going rigid. “What else do you want from us? You’ve taken our business! You’ve taken our house!”
“I am here to execute the final personal property isolation order,” Eduardo said, opening his briefcase and producing a official legal decree. “Miss Cruz has purchased the personal debt notes held by your family’s private lenders. As of twelve o'clock today, all personal bank accounts belonging to Beatriz, Mauricio, Mateo, and Richard Ortega have been impounded by the state tax authority.”
Beatriz collapsed onto the porch steps, weeping hysterically. “How are we supposed to live? How are we supposed to buy food?”
Eduardo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, white envelope, handing it directly to Mauricio.
“Miss Cruz was kind enough to leave you a relocation allowance,” Eduardo said flatly.
Mauricio opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
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Inside was a single bus ticket to a remote rural district in northern Mexico, and a small key to a two-room communal rental apartment.
“Your mother wanted Valeria to live like a servant,” Eduardo said, adjusting his necktie. “Miss Cruz believes it is only fair that your family experiences what true poverty actually feels like.”
