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Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Varden“This is absurd!” Eduardo shouted, his voice cracking with panic as he slammed his palms against the table. He glared wildly around the room at the startled board members. “She’s a dismissed waitress! A bitter ex-fiancée trying to extort our family because her wedding got canceled! Security! Throw them out right now!”

Not a single security guard moved.

Instead, the side doors of the boardroom opened again, and three men in dark federal tax police uniforms walked in, followed by two senior prosecutors from the state attorney general’s office.

The lead investigator, a sharp-eyed woman with a graying bob, stepped forward and laid a heavy leather binder directly in front of Eduardo.

“Eduardo Varden, you are being served with a federal warrant for grand larceny, securities fraud, tax evasion, and the systematic embezzlement of the Martínez Family Trust assets over a twenty-five-year period,” the prosecutor announced, her voice echoing loudly in the silent room.

Clara let out a piercing shriek, burying her face in her hands as flashbulbs from the media members waiting in the corridor suddenly illuminated the glass walls.

Adrián stumbled backward against his chair, his face turning ghostly white. He looked from the federal agents to his father, and finally to me, his voice trembling. “Dad... what are they talking about? What is this?”

Eduardo slumped into his leather chair, every bit of his arrogance evaporating into thin air. He looked at Rowena with sheer, venomous hatred. “You... you helped her. You gave them the documents.”

“I gave them the truth, Eduardo,” Rowena said coldly, leaning forward on her cane. “The truth you tried to bury when you stole Elena Martínez’s inheritance in 1998.”

I stepped forward, placing my hand flat on the walnut table right beside Eduardo’s frozen fingers.

“You spent your whole life teaching your son that people like my mother and me don't matter,” I said, my voice cold and hard as steel. “You thought you could buy our silence with wedding venues, cheap apologies, and the illusion of grace. But you forgot one thing.”

I reached into my blazer pocket, pulled out the engagement ring Adrián had forced on me a year ago, and dropped it into Eduardo’s empty coffee cup with a sharp clink.

“We always keep the receipts.”

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The federal agents moved in swiftly. Handcuffs clicked into place around Eduardo’s wrists. Another set clicked around Adrián’s trembling hands as he tried to protest, stammering that he didn't know anything about his father’s shell companies.

“You knew,” I told him, looking him straight in the eye as two officers pulled him toward the doors. “You just didn't care enough to ask.”

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