Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Patriarch
In a small, windowless office near the industrial docks of Guadalajara, Richard Ortega—Mauricio’s father—sat at his cluttered wooden desk, staring at three federal marshals who were busy cataloging his office equipment.
Richard was a bitter, domineering man who had spent thirty years building Ortega & Sons Logistics through cut corners, cheap labor, and under-the-table cash payments.
He had always treated women as second-class citizens, teaching his sons that a man’s authority in his own house was absolute.
“You can’t seize these files!” Richard barked at the lead marshal, standing up and slamming his palm on the desk. “These are proprietary business records!”
The marshal didn't even look up from his tablet. “Mr. Ortega, this facility is under federal impoundment. Your business license has been revoked by the Ministry of Transportation due to safety violations and tax fraud.”
The door opened, and Mauricio walked in, looking like a ghost. His clothes were filthy, his posture slouched, and his eyes completely bloodshot.
“Dad...” Mauricio muttered, closing the door behind him. “The landlord just locked us out of the Zapopan house. Mom is sitting in the car crying.”
Richard turned on his son with explosive fury, grabbing him by his shirt collar and shoving him against the wall.
“You idiot!” Richard roared, his face turning purple with rage. “You brought this on us! You had a multi-billionaire in your hands, and you let your stupid mother drive her out of the house over a bucket of dirty laundry!”
Mauricio didn't even fight back. He hung limp in his father’s grip, his spirit completely broken.
“I didn't know, Dad...” Mauricio whimpered. “She looked like an ordinary girl... she lived in a studio... she drove a ten-year-old hatchback...”
“Because she was smart!” Richard screamed, throwing his son to the floor. “She was testing you, you useless fool! And you failed in less than twelve hours!”
“It wasn't just me!” Mauricio yelled back from the floor, tears finally streaming down his bruised face. “You told me to put her in her place! Mom told me to strike her! You both built this culture in our house!”
Richard stood over his son, breathing heavily, but before he could speak again, his phone chimed with a high-priority notification from his legal counsel.
He opened the message.
FEDERATION TAX COURT: EMERGENCY ARREST WARRANT ISSUED FOR RICHARD ORTEGA AND MAURICIO ORTEGA ON CHARGES OF WIRE FRAUD, MONEY LAUNDERING, AND TAX EVASION. BAIL SET AT TEN MILLION PESOS EACH.
Richard dropped his phone onto the desk, his legs giving out as he sank heavily into his wooden chair.
Ten million pesos.
They didn't even have ten thousand pesos left in their bank accounts.
Through the window of the industrial office, the sound of sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder as three federal police cruisers pulled into the gravel parking lot outside.
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Richard looked at his son, who was curling into a ball on the dirty office floor, weeping like a helpless child.
The grand Ortega family, who had prided themselves on their pride, their tradition, and their dominance over women, had been erased from existence in less than seven days.
