Chapter 5 - CHAPTER 4: THE BROKER’S WEB
We pulled into a secluded, abandoned farmhouse two hours outside Querétaro. Lucía’s family owned the property, but it had been vacant for years—a perfect safehouse.
While Renata sat wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot tea in the dimly lit kitchen, Lucía laid out maps, financial records, and legal briefs across the rustic wooden table.
“How do you know about Elvira?” I asked Lucía, sitting down across from her.
“When you called me from the hospital, I didn’t just look at Rodrigo’s public records,” Lucía explained, pulling up a series of archived tax filings and offshore property registries. “Twenty years ago, Elvira’s first husband—Renata’s father—died in a car accident. He had a massive life insurance policy, but the autopsy report was signed by none other than Dr. Ernesto Beltrán.”
Renata gasped, her cup trembling in her hands.
“Beltrán was a resident back then,” Lucía continued. “Elvira collected three million dollars. She used that money to establish high-society ties in Guadalajara and buy shares in Saint Jude Hospital. She’s been working with Beltrán for over two decades, using her family members as financial collateral whenever her investments fail.”
“She treated me like a daughter,” I whispered, remembered how Elvira had smoothed my hair, fed me herbal tea, and told me I was an angel. The tea!
A sudden realization struck me like a physical blow.
“The herbal drinks,” I said, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Every night for the past month, Elvira made me drink a specific tea. She said it was to purify my liver and strengthen my kidneys for the surgery.”
“It wasn't tea,” Lucía said grimly, pulling up a medical database. “It was a course of immunosuppressants and mild sedatives designed to make your tissue more receptive to transplantation and keep your body weak so you wouldn't fight back when the time came.”
I felt a cold nausea sweep over me. The depth of their betrayal was staggering. Every gentle word, every hug, every warm meal had been part of a cold, calculated preparation for my slaughter.
“What do we do now?” Renata asked, her eyes wide with fear and anger. “We can’t go to the police—Beltrán has top officials in his pocket. If they catch us, they’ll put us in a cell and wait for Elvira to come claim us.”
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“We don’t go to the police yet,” I said, standing up. “We go after their money. El Enclave is a business. If we disrupt their supply chain and expose their buyers, the syndicate will turn on Elvira and Rodrigo themselves.”
“How do we do that?” Lucía smiled thin, sharp smile. “By crashing the auction.”
