Chapter 7 - CHAPTER 6: UNMASKED
The silence in the room was deafening.
For three seconds, no one moved. Then the auctioneer’s face went completely pale.
“Who allowed this woman in here?” he demanded, clutching his microphone.
Before security could reach me, I pulled out a small handheld projector—supplied by Lucía’s tech team—and pointed it at the main wall.
A bright beam of light hit the white screen, overriding the auction slides. High-definition video began playing instantly.
It was the footage Marisol had taken inside the hospital, followed by audio recordings Lucía had pulled from Beltrán’s office computers, where Elvira and Rodrigo explicitly negotiated the price of my life.
“Make sure she doesn’t wake up,” Rodrigo’s voice boomed through the auction room speakers. “If she talks, the entire firm goes down. Just frame it as an allergic reaction to the anesthetic.”
“Don’t worry, son,” Elvira’s voice followed. “Beltrán has done this four times before. It’s seamless.”
The room erupted into chaos. The wealthy international buyers, terrified of being linked to a public murder investigation, scrambled for the exits. Chairs were knocked over as guards tried to control the panic.
The heavy oak doors burst open, and Dr. Beltrán and Rodrigo rushed in, flanked by four armed guards.
Rodrigo froze when his eyes met mine. The confidence drained from his face instantly, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock.
“Valeria?!” he gasped, stumbling backward. “You’re... you’re supposed to be—”
“Dead?” I said, taking a step toward him, my voice ringing clear and strong above the alarms now sounding through the estate. “Sorry to disappoint you, Rodrigo. But your inventory broke out of the crate.”
“Kill the feed! Kill the lights!” Beltrán screamed, pulling a pistol from his jacket.
“I wouldn’t do that, Doctor,” Lucía’s voice echoed over the house sound system.
Suddenly, every screen in the room flashed red. A progress bar appeared on the display above the stage: TRANSMISSION COMPLETE: 100%.
“That audio file, along with your offshore account numbers, client lists, and twenty years of fabricated cause-of-death certificates, has just been sent to the Federal Prosecutor’s Office, Interpol, and every major news network in Mexico,” Lucía announced over the speakers.
Beltrán looked at his phone as it began ringing wildly. Elvira sprinted into the room, her face twisted in rage.
“You ungrateful little bitch!” Elvira shrieked, lunging at me with her nails clawing for my eyes. “We took you in! We made you part of this family!”
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I stepped aside effortlessly, grabbed her arm, and twisted it behind her back, pinning her against the mahogany podium just as I had learned in self-defense training years ago.
“You didn’t make me family, Elvira,” I whispered into her ear. “You made me your worst mistake.”
