Chapter 4 - The House of Sand
The sun broke over Dallas in pale shades of orange and gray. In the luxurious penthouse suite of the Adolphus Hotel, Javier Robles was pouring himself a glass of vintage scotch, his hand visibly shaking. His tuxedo tie hung loose around his neck, and his slicked-back hair was coming undone.
“She hasn't replied,” Javier stammered, pacing across the hardwood floor. “Mom, what if she went to the cops? What if she went to the press? If my partners find out about this—”
“Shut up, Javier,” Carmen barked from the vanity mirror. She was already dressed in an immaculate cream-colored Chanel suit, adjusting a diamond necklace that had not yet been paid for. “Sofia is a mouse. Her mother is a nobody who works in mid-level logistics. They have neither the money nor the courage to challenge us.”
“She saw the women, Mom! She knows you hit her!”
“She knows what happens when she disobeys,” Carmen sneered, turning around with cold, arrogant eyes. “A girl who grows up without a father is desperate for approval. She will crawl back because she has no one else to protect her. By noon, that $1.8 million Uptown penthouse will be under my LLC’s name, the bridge loan will be covered, and we will keep her locked away until the divorce can be filed quietly.”
A sharp chime echoed from Javier’s phone. He checked the screen, and his face instantly turned ash-white.
“Mom...”
“What is it now?”
“My escrow account... it’s locked. The bank sent an urgent fraud notification. All client trust accounts at Robles & Associates have been placed under administrative freeze by the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas.”
Carmen frowned, her composure slipping slightly. “Nonsense. That’s an automated banking glitch. Call your liaison at Chase.”
Before Javier could dial, his phone rang again. It was Arthur Pendelton, the senior managing partner whose name Javier had used to legitimize his fraudulent practice.
Javier tapped speaker with a trembling thumb. “Arthur? What’s going on with the—”
*“You miserable, thieving bastard,”* Arthur’s voice thundered with an intensity that rattled the room. *“The Texas State Bar ethics committee just served an emergency suspension notice on our firm. Ten minutes ago, an anonymous courier delivered five years of your altered audit logs directly to the District Attorney’s white-collar crime division. Federal agents are carrying boxes out of our office right now!”*
“Wait! Arthur, listen to me, that’s impossible!” Javier shrieked.
*“Do not contact me again. If you step within five hundred feet of the building, security will break your legs. You are ruined, Javier. Ruined!”*
The call severed. Javier dropped the phone; it clattered across the polished floor.
Carmen stood up, her chest heaving, the veneer of high-society elegance cracking down the center. “Who did this? Who could have accessed those files?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Javier choked, grabbing his hair. “Those servers were air-gapped! Nobody had that leverage except—”
Suddenly, Carmen’s phone buzz cut through the air. A notification from the Texas Property Records division:
*Notice of Lis Pendens and Immediate Injunction filed against Parcel 409, 2400 McKinney Ave (The Uptown Penthouse).*
“The condo,” Carmen whispered, her voice tightening into pure panic. “She’s trying to sell it or block us. Come on. Get your jacket.”
“Where are we going?”
May you like
“To Uptown,” Carmen hissed, her eyes blazing with murderous determination. “We take possession before the injunction is finalized. If she won’t sign willingly, we will force her hand right there.”
***
