Chapter 3 - The Trap is Set
The next morning, the Texas sun rose hot and unforgiving over Uptown Dallas.
Sofia’s luxury condo sat on the twenty-fourth floor of a glass high-rise. It was a sprawling, three-bedroom masterpiece with panoramic views of the city, custom Italian marble, and a private elevator. It was the exact kind of real estate that a greedy, social-climbing family like the Robles would kill to possess.
At 10:00 AM, the private elevator chimed.
I was sitting on the white leather sofa next to Sofia. We had applied heavy, professional-grade makeup to cover the bruise on her cheek and the split in her lip. She wore a long-sleeved silk blouse buttoned to her collarbone, hiding the violent tapestry of purple and black marks underneath. She looked pristine. She looked submissive. She looked exactly the way Carmen expected her to look after being "trained."
The doors slid open, and Carmen Robles stepped out.
She was wearing a stunning crimson pantsuit, her neck heavy with gaudy gold chains, holding a designer handbag that cost more than most people's cars. Behind her walked Javier, looking effortlessly handsome in a casual linen suit, holding a leather briefcase. Following them was a nervous-looking man holding a notary stamp.
"Well, look who decided to be reasonable," Carmen said, her lips curving into a victorious, predatory smirk. She didn't even look at me. Her eyes swept the luxury condo, practically drooling over the crown molding. "It's a beautiful space, Sofia. Once my designer comes in to fix these dreadful curtains, it will be a perfect home for Javier."
Javier walked over, kneeling in front of Sofia. He reached out to touch her knee, and I saw my daughter physically flinch.
"I'm glad you called, baby," Javier said smoothly, entirely ignoring my presence. "I knew you'd come to your senses. We just want what's best for our family's future. Once this is signed, everything goes back to normal. Mom will forgive you, and we can go to the Maldives."
"Forgive her?" I snapped, unable to hold it in any longer. "You let your mother beat her like a dog on her wedding night!"
Carmen finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. "Elena, be quiet. You raised a spoiled, disobedient girl who didn't understand the concept of a dowry or respect. I simply corrected your failure. In our culture, the man controls the assets. She is a Robles now."
"She is a Vance," a deep, booming voice echoed from the hallway leading to the master bedroom.
Carmen froze. Javier stood up instantly.
Alexander Vance stepped into the living room. He wasn't wearing the wrinkled shirt from the night before. He was wearing a custom three-piece charcoal suit, looking every inch the billionaire titan he was. Behind him walked three men in sharp suits—his lead corporate attorneys.
"Mr. Vance," Javier stammered, the color draining completely from his face. "Alexander... sir, we didn't know you were here."
"Obviously," Alexander said, walking slowly toward the center of the room. "Because if you had known I was here, you wouldn't have brought a fraudulent notary to extort my daughter."
The notary took two steps backward, looking terrified.
"Extort?" Carmen scoffed, though her voice shook slightly. She tried to puff out her chest, refusing to be intimidated. "This is family business, Alexander. Sofia agreed to transfer the property to her husband. It is her duty."
"Her duty," Alexander repeated, stopping just inches from Carmen. He towered over her. "Did your duty include locking a twenty-four-year-old girl in a hotel room and hitting her forty times, Carmen?"
Javier stepped between them, holding his hands up. "Sir, it was a misunderstanding. Things got heated. Sofia was being hysterical—"
Before Javier could finish the sentence, Alexander’s hand shot out. He grabbed Javier by the throat and slammed him backward against the marble kitchen island. The impact rattled the crystal glasses in the cabinets. Javier gasped, his eyes wide with absolute, primal terror as Alexander’s grip tightened like a steel vice.
"Alexander!" Carmen shrieked, rushing forward. "Take your hands off my son! I will call the police!"
"Please do," Alexander whispered, not breaking eye contact with the choking, sputtering coward pinned beneath his hand. "Call them, Carmen. Tell them exactly what happened last night. But before you dial, you might want to listen to what my lawyers have to say."
Alexander released Javier, letting the boy collapse onto the hardwood floor, coughing and gasping for air.
May you like
Alexander turned to his lead attorney, a ruthless man named Marcus.
"Marcus," Alexander said calmly, adjusting his cuffs. "Update the Robles family on their current financial standing."
