THE WOMAN IN THE WHEELBARROW “That dying woman outside says she’s your mother.”

By 5:00 a.m., the rain had stopped, leaving Lomas de Chapultepec shrouded in a thick, eerie fog.

I pulled up to the gates of my estate. Lucía was already there, accompanied by four heavily armed private security operatives in unmarked black vehicles.

"The estate guards have been secured," Lucía reported, handing me a bulletproof vest under my coat. "Veronica realized the lockdown wasn't releasing and tried to call her personal security team, but we jammed her signal. She's inside the main house."

"Where is Mateo?" I asked immediately.

"He’s safe," Lucía assured me. "My team extracted him through the garden gate half an hour ago. He’s with your mother at the safe house now."

A wave of relief washed over me. With my son and mother safe, the restraint that had held me back disappeared.

I kicked open the heavy double doors of my mansion. The grand foyer was littered with scattered papers and half-packed luggage.

Veronica stood near the grand fireplace, throwing armfuls of financial ledgers into the roaring flames. She spun around when she heard my footsteps, her face pale, holding a small silver pistol in her shaking hand.

"Alejandro!" she gasped, backing away toward the fire. "Stay back! Don't come any closer!"

"Put the gun down, Veronica," I said, stepping calmly into the room. Lucía and her operatives fanned out behind me, weapons raised.

"You don't understand!" she shrieked, her eyes darting wildly around the room. "Rogelio forced me into this! He had dirt on me from my time as his accountant! He told me if I didn't marry you and help him access your accounts, he would ruin me!"

"Save it," I said, pulling out a printout of the fifty-million-dollar life insurance policy Lucía had uncovered. I tossed it onto the glass coffee table between us. "You weren't forced, Veronica. You were the mastermind. Rogelio was just your muscle."

Veronica looked at the paper, then let out a cold, sharp laugh that bore no resemblance to the gentle wife I had known for twelve years.

"So you finally figured it out," she sneered, lowering the gun slightly as she realized she was completely surrounded. "You always were so arrogant, Alejandro. So proud of your self-made empire. You never noticed that every major deal you closed was facilitated by papers I edited, contracts I maneuvered."

"And my father?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet. "Did you help Rogelio murder him too?"

Veronica’s mouth twitched into a bitter smile. "Your father was stupid. He thought honesty mattered in business. Just like that old hag of a mother you brought here in a wheelbarrow."

Before she could finish her sentence, the glass doors leading to the rear terrace shattered into a rain of sharp fragments.