“You? Don’t make me laugh. If my son were smart, he would have put everything in his name before you ruined him.”
Everything.
That word landed harder than any insult.
Because Alejandro did not support that house.
He worked for me.
I was the founder and majority shareholder of Ruta Norte Logística, a Mexican transportation and distribution company that I had built over nine years, from a small office in Querétaro to national contracts with supermarket chains and pharmaceutical companies. Alejandro had a position as regional director because I trusted him when no one else would have hired him for that level.
And that house in Lomas de Chapultepec was mine too.
Bought before the marriage.
In my name.
Doña Teresa didn’t know it, or pretended not to know it. To her, every man was the owner and every wife should be grateful.
That night, while she kept shouting, I sent the video to my lawyer, my chief financial officer, and Human Resources.
The next morning, Alejandro arrived at the office and his computer would no longer turn on.
At 9:20, his corporate access was suspended.
At 10:00, his company card was canceled.
At 11:15, the driver of the SUV registered under my company’s name received orders to pick it up.
