Chapter 6 - The Counterattack
Andrés filed first.
By nine-thirty the next morning, Mariana’s attorney received notice of an emergency custody petition.
The allegations were brutal.
Mariana was financially unstable.
She had moved the children without proper notification.
She lived in unsafe housing.
She allegedly suffered from “episodes of emotional volatility.”
And most damaging of all, the filing referred to an active investigation involving missing corporate money.
Carmen read the petition twice.
Then she looked at Lucía.
“He did this to her.”
Lucía nodded.
“And now he’s using the consequences as evidence.”
The miserable apartment Andrés helped create had become proof Mariana was an unfit mother.
The suspicious account he allegedly arranged had become proof she might be a criminal.
Even her exhaustion was reframed as instability.
Mariana stared at the pages.
“This was the plan.”
“Yes.”
“All of it.”
“Yes.”
For months Mariana had wondered why Andrés sometimes seemed indifferent when she pleaded for more child support.
Now she knew.
Every unpaid bill worsened her position.
Every late rent payment became evidence.
Every night Mateo watched Sofía while Mariana worked could be described as neglect.
He had not merely abandoned them.
He had been building a case.
Lucía prepared their response.
Photographs of the apartment.
Employment records.
School reports showing both children maintained strong attendance.
Bank statements documenting Mariana’s expenses.
Messages in which she repeatedly asked Andrés to take the children on weekends.
His replies were devastating.
Busy.
Trial prep.
Maybe next week.
Out of town.
Ask your sister.
Most importantly, Lucía included evidence of Andrés’s financial maneuvers and requested the court delay any custody change until allegations of document falsification were investigated.
The hearing was scheduled quickly.
Andrés arrived with two attorneys.
Mariana arrived with Lucía.
Carmen and Esteban waited outside.
Brenda did not appear.
Not yet.
Andrés’s lawyer spoke first.
He described a father deeply concerned about his children’s safety.
A man who had “recently discovered” the extent of their living conditions.
Mariana almost stood up.
Lucía touched her wrist.
Wait.
The lawyer continued.
He suggested Mariana had deliberately isolated the children from their father.
Then he presented photographs of the apartment.
The peeling walls.
The worn mattresses.
The old stove.
Each image made Mariana feel exposed.
Humiliated.
Then Lucía stood.
“Who took these photographs?”
The lawyer hesitated.
“They were provided by my client.”
“When?”
“Recently.”
“Before or after his mother discovered where the children were living?”
A pause.
“After.”
“So your client did not personally document his children’s living conditions during the previous eight months?”
Silence.
Lucía continued.
“Because he did not visit?”
Andrés’s attorney objected.
But the damage was done.
Then Lucía introduced messages.
One after another.
Mariana asking Andrés to pick up Mateo.
No response.
Mariana reminding him of Sofía’s school performance.
Busy.
Mariana asking whether he was coming to Mateo’s birthday.
Absolutely.
Then, six hours before the party:
Emergency hearing. Sorry.
The judge read silently.
Lucía placed another document forward.
A social worker’s preliminary report from the hotel.
The children were bonded with their mother.
They appeared appropriately cared for.
Mateo expressed fear that his father was “trying to take us because Grandma found out.”
The judge looked toward Andrés.
For the first time, his confidence cracked.
Then came the financial allegation.
His lawyer produced bank records showing 400,000 pesos transferred into an account under Mariana’s name.
Lucía did not dispute the transfer.
Instead she submitted the legitimate receipt.
Same amount.
Earlier date.
Andrés’s signature.
Then the questionable loan agreement.
Then the email-domain evidence connected to the bank account.
The judge stopped reading.
“Counsel, are you suggesting identity fraud?”
Lucía chose her words carefully.
“I am stating that there are substantial irregularities requiring investigation before this court relies on the account as evidence against my client.”
Andrés whispered to his attorney.
The judge noticed.
Then the courtroom door opened.
Brenda entered.
She was accompanied by her own lawyer.
Andrés went completely still.
Mariana saw his face.
That was the moment she knew Brenda had brought something important.
Her attorney requested permission to provide evidence relevant to the custody allegations.
After a private conference, the judge agreed to review it under seal.
Brenda’s lawyer submitted the recording.
The same recording Mariana had already heard.
“She found enough to become a problem.”
“Then make her the explanation.”
“What if she talks?”
“She won’t after the account appears.”
The judge listened twice.
Nobody spoke.
Andrés looked at Brenda.
She refused to look back.
The emergency custody request was denied.
But the judge went further.
Neither parent could remove the children from Mexico City without court permission.
All exchanges had to be documented.
And an independent evaluator would review the children’s welfare.
Outside the courtroom, reporters were waiting.
Nobody knew how they had learned about the case.
Lucía suspected Grupo Serrano.
Create noise.
Create scandal.
Make Mariana look guilty before facts were established.
Questions flew.
“Mrs. Ruiz, did you steal company money?”
“Mr. Salgado, did you forge documents?”
“Is this connected to Grupo Serrano?”
Lucía pushed Mariana through the crowd.
Carmen held Sofía close.
Mateo stared straight ahead.
Then one reporter shouted something that stopped everyone.
“Mr. Salgado, federal investigators searched Grupo Serrano’s offices this morning. Do you expect to be charged?”
Andrés turned.
His expression said he had not known.
Lucía noticed.
That mattered.
By afternoon, news spread across legal circles.
Authorities had executed search warrants at three Grupo Serrano locations.
Computer servers seized.
Financial files removed.
Two executives questioned.
Víctor Serrano had not been arrested.
Yet.
Andrés disappeared from public view.
For two days, nothing happened.
Then on the third night, someone broke into Mariana’s old apartment.
The door was forced.
Drawers emptied.
Mattress cut open.
Papers scattered.
But nothing valuable was stolen.
Because there was nothing valuable to steal.
Esteban stood in the wreckage the next morning.
“They were looking for something.”
“The drive?” Mariana asked.
“Probably.”
Lucía photographed everything.
Then Mateo noticed something.
“The drawing.”
Mariana turned.
Sofía’s family drawing had been ripped from the wall.
It was gone.
Why would anyone steal a child’s drawing?
At first it seemed meaningless.
Then Esteban remembered something.
He had seen Mariana hide papers behind wall decorations when the apartment became too cluttered.
He asked her.
“Did you ever put anything behind that drawing?”
Mariana frowned.
Then froze.
Months earlier, afraid Andrés might access her files, she had taped a small envelope behind Sofía’s picture.
Inside were three printed emails.
She had forgotten them.
“What emails?” Lucía asked.
Mariana’s heart began pounding.
“Messages between Andrés and a notary.”
“What did they say?”
“Something about correcting dates.”
Lucía’s expression sharpened.
“Property dates?”
“I think so.”
“Do you have copies?”
“No.”
Mariana felt sick.
“Those were the only ones.”
Lucía stared at the blank place where Sofía’s drawing had been.
Then she noticed a tiny scrap of paper near the baseboard.
Part of the child’s drawing.
Gray pencil.
The corner where the father had been standing alone.
Whoever searched the apartment had found the envelope.
That meant they knew the emails existed.
And if someone had gone to that much trouble to recover three printed pages, those pages mattered.
A lot.
That evening, Lucía received a call from an unknown number.
A male voice.
“You’re representing Mariana Ruiz?”
“Yes.”
“I have something that belongs to her.”
“Who is this?”
No answer.
“Where did you get my number?”
The man ignored her.
“You want the emails?”
Lucía’s expression changed.
“What emails?”
“Don’t play games.”
A pause.
“Bring two hundred thousand pesos.”
Lucía almost laughed.
“You broke into her apartment and now you’re selling back her documents?”
“I didn’t break into anything.”
“Then how did you get them?”
Silence.
Finally he said, “Tomorrow. Noon.”
He gave an address.
Then disconnected.
Lucía immediately called the investigators.
It looked like a crude extortion attempt.
But the address changed everything.
It was not an abandoned warehouse.
Not a parking lot.
Not some isolated location.
May you like
It was the law office where Andrés worked.
And the man demanding money wanted to meet Mariana inside the building.
