Chapter 3 - Forensic Retribution
Dr. Miriam Vance arrived forty minutes later through the private service entrance of the apartment building. She was Alexander’s personal physician, accompanied by a seasoned forensic nurse carrying high-resolution digital cameras and evidence collection kits.
Sofia flinched as the harsh flashes illuminated the dim living room, capturing the vivid brutality inflicted upon her flesh.
“Forty strikes,” Dr. Vance murmured grimly as she examined Sofia’s face and neck under a clinical penlight. “Subdermal contusions consistent with heavy, ringed fingers. Defensive bruising along the ulnar borders of both forearms. Burst capillaries in the sclera of the left eye from strangulation pressure.”
Elena had to look away, covering her mouth to stifle a sob. Alexander stood by the window, motionless as stone, his reflection staring back from the dark glass.
“Can she travel?” Alexander asked without turning around.
“She has a mild concussion and deep tissue trauma, but structurally she will heal,” Dr. Vance replied, packing her instruments. “I’ve documented everything to forensic criminal standards. If you submit this to the District Attorney, it’s aggravated assault causing serious bodily injury—a second-degree felony at minimum.”
“No police. Not yet,” Alexander replied calmly.
Elena snapped her head toward him, her anger flaring. “Are you out of your mind, Alexander? She was beaten by seven women while her husband guarded the door! They belong in cages!”
Alexander finally turned. His eyes were terrifyingly clear. “If you hand them to the Dallas police tonight, Carmen will make bail in three hours using dirty money. Javier will file a counter-complaint alleging spousal hysteria, tie the narrative up in court, and buy time to hide their paper trail. A night in county jail is mercy. I do not intend to be merciful.”
At that exact second, Sofia’s phone buzzed violently against the glass tabletop.
The screen glowed: **Carmen.**
Alexander walked over, leaned down, and tapped the speaker button, gesturing for complete silence.
Carmen’s voice slithered through the tiny speaker, dripping with condescension and cold venom.
*“Sofia, darling. Running back to your mother’s pathetic two-bedroom flat was a very childish mistake. Javier is extraordinarily disappointed in you. You left your bridal suite without signing the deed transfer documents we discussed.”*
Sofia began to shake. Elena reached out, clutching her daughter’s trembling hands tightly.
*“Listen to me carefully, little girl,”* Carmen continued, her tone dropping into a razor-sharp threat. *“You have until eight o'clock this morning to return to the hotel, apologize on your knees to my son, and sign over the Uptown condo. If you try to go to the hospital or call the authorities, remember who Javier plays golf with. We will ruin your mother’s pension, seize your bank accounts, and ensure you spend the rest of your life terrified of the dark. Do not test my patience.”*
The line went dead.
Silence hung heavy over the room. Sofia stared at the black screen, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Alexander took out his own phone, tapped a single speed-dial button, and brought it to his ear.
May you like
“Marcus,” Alexander said into the receiver. “Begin Phase One. Freeze their commercial accounts, revoke their credit facilities, and dispatch our legal team to the Dallas County Clerk’s office. Carmen Robles wants a war by eight o'clock. Give her an apocalypse by seven.”
***
