“Funny. I was taught that in Mexico, the eldest son is also abandoned when he becomes a burden.”
Diego stepped forward, nervous but arrogant.
“Look, brother, let’s get to the point. Salazar Construction is going through a rough patch. We need a bridge loan. About 800 million pesos. For someone like you, that’s nothing.”
Camila wasn’t even looking at me. She was recording the scene from my office.
“And I need you to help us clear some debts. My card was declined in Polanco. It was humiliating.”
I watched them. They didn’t see a brother. They saw a cash register with a pulse.
I placed a black folder on the desk.
“What a coincidence that you mention Salazar Construction. I’ve been auditing them for years.”
Ricardo tensed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know they’re not just going through a rough patch. They’re bankrupt. They owe 1.9 billion pesos in loans, back taxes, straw men, and mortgaged properties.”
My mother stopped faking tears.
“That’s impossible.”
“No. What was impossible was surviving ten years thinking my family was going to come back.”
I opened the folder and pushed the documents toward them.
“All your debts were bought by different companies. Or so you thought. In reality, they all belong to me.”
Diego went white.
“You bought our debt?”
“I bought your loans, your promissory notes, your land, your labor lawsuits, and even the mortgage on the house in Lomas where Camila threw parties saying I was dead.”
Camila lowered her phone.
“I never said that…”
“Yes, you did. I have videos.”
Ricardo slammed his fist on the desk.
