PART 13 — THE PRICE OF BLOOD
PART 13 — THE PRICE OF BLOOD
The gun was pointed at me.
But I wasn't looking at the man holding it.
I was looking at my mother.
Esther sat behind the glass partition in the courtroom, surrounded by officers.
Her face had gone completely white.
She knew.
She had always known.
And now the truth was finally standing in front of me with a weapon in his hand.
Rafael smiled.
“Your family has always been very dramatic.”
The courtroom exploded into chaos.
People screamed.
Chairs overturned.
Officers reached for their weapons.
The judge shouted something I couldn't hear.
Then the lights went out.
For three seconds, there was absolute darkness.
A gunshot cracked through the room.
Someone screamed.
I felt Valeria grab my arm.
“Alejandro!”
“I’m here.”
Another shot.
Glass shattered.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Rafael was gone.
The judge was on the floor.
And Esther was screaming.
“DON'T LET HIM REACH THE FILES!”
I turned toward her.
“What files?”
But she was looking at the prosecutor.
Not me.
The prosecutor immediately understood.
“Everyone out!”
Officers rushed toward the judge.
The courtroom emptied in seconds.
I pulled Valeria behind a pillar.
Lucía appeared beside us.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
She looked toward the judge.
“Is he alive?”
An officer shouted:
“Yes!”
The judge had been hit in the shoulder.
Blood covered his robe.
But he was alive.
And Rafael had disappeared.
Again.
Twenty minutes later, the courthouse was surrounded by police.
No one was allowed inside or outside.
The trial had been suspended.
Reporters gathered behind barricades.
Every television station was broadcasting the same image.
The Aranda family.
The courthouse.
The gunshot.
The chaos.
The trial had become national news.
But inside a secure room beneath the courthouse, I was sitting across from my mother.
Esther was no longer restrained at the wrists.
Two officers stood behind her.
She looked at me.
“You have to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because he will come for you.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
“Rafael?”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“Your grandfather.”
I leaned forward.
“You told me he was dead.”
“I lied.”
“You lied about everything.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I told the truth, someone died.”
I stared at her.
“You knew Isabel was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Lucía was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Mateo was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Rafael was alive.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt something break inside me.
“And you knew who my father was.”
She opened her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the security camera.
Then at the officers.
Then back at me.
“I cannot say it here.”
I stood.
“You don't get to decide that anymore.”
“Alejandro—”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“For eleven years, everyone has told me they were protecting me.”
I pointed at her.
“You protected yourself.”
She flinched.
“You protected the family.”
“You protected the money.”
“You protected the Aranda name.”
“And you let Lucía disappear.”
Esther began to cry.
“I know.”
“You let me believe she was dead.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe Elena was dead.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were my mother.”
She went completely still.
Then she whispered:
“I am your mother.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“I gave birth to you.”
I stared at her.
“But you said—”
“Isabel raised you.”
“Why?”
“Because I was not allowed to.”
“By whom?”
She looked down.
“Your grandfather.”
The next morning, the prosecution gave me a choice.
It was not presented as a threat.
It was presented as a legal reality.
The Aranda estate was frozen.
Every company connected to the investigation was under review.
My personal accounts had been restricted.
Properties were being seized.
The government was preparing asset-forfeiture proceedings.
The prosecutor placed a document in front of me.
“If you testify fully,” she said, “the state can use your cooperation in determining your personal liability.”
I looked at the document.
“And if I don't?”
“You can remain silent.”
“What happens to the companies?”
“They will likely be dismantled.”
I looked up.
“All of them?”
“Possibly.”
“How much?”
She paused.
“Enough that your family will lose most of its fortune.”
I laughed once.
It wasn't funny.
“My entire life.”
“Yes.”
Everything I had built.
The offices.
The properties.
The hotels.
The developments.
The vineyards.
The investments.
The companies bearing my name.
Gone.
Not because the government wanted revenge.
Because the money was contaminated.
Because the foundation was rotten.
Because I had inherited something built by people willing to destroy lives for profit.
I stared at the document.
Then I asked:
“If I refuse to testify?”
“You may preserve some of your assets.”
I looked at her.
“How much?”
She didn't answer immediately.
“Enough to live comfortably.”
I understood.
This was the choice.
Not between prison and freedom.
Between blood and money.
Between my family and the truth.
Between everything I had spent my life building and the people my family had destroyed.
Valeria found me outside the courthouse.
She didn't ask what happened.
She simply sat beside me.
I handed her the document.
She read it.
“You could lose everything.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to?”
I looked toward the street.
“I don't know.”
She took my hand.
“Then ask yourself one question.”
“What?”
“If the money disappeared tomorrow, who would you still want to be?”
I looked at her.
She continued.
“If the houses disappeared.”
“If the companies disappeared.”
“If the Aranda name meant nothing.”
“Would you still recognize yourself?”
I didn't answer.
Because I knew the answer.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to.
That afternoon, I went to see Lucía.
She was sitting in the hospital garden.
She looked peaceful.
For once.
I sat beside her.
“I have a choice.”
“I know.”
“They'll take everything.”
“They should.”
I looked at her.
“You don't hesitate.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I spent eleven years with nothing.”
She turned toward me.
“Do you know what I learned?”
“What?”
“You can lose a house.”
“You can lose money.”
“You can lose your name.”
“But when someone takes your freedom, you understand what actually matters.”
I looked down.
“I don't know how to live without the empire.”
Lucía smiled.
“Then maybe it's time you learned.”
That night, I went home.
Not to the mansion.
It had been sealed.
I went to a small apartment Valeria had rented near the hospital.
There were no servants.
No guards.
No marble floors.
No expensive furniture.
Just a small kitchen.
A couch.
Two bedrooms.
And a view of the city.
I sat on the floor.
Valeria brought me coffee.
“I think I like this place.”
She smiled.
“You've been here for twenty minutes.”
“I know.”
She sat beside me.
“I've spent my whole life surrounded by things.”
“What things?”
“Expensive things.”
I looked around the room.
“Now I realize I never actually owned them.”
Valeria leaned against my shoulder.
“You own yourself.”
I smiled.
“That's new.”
The next morning, I signed the agreement.
I agreed to testify.
Fully.
Without immunity for my family.
Without protection for my mother.
Without exceptions.
The prosecutor read the final question before I signed.
“Do you understand that your testimony may result in the prosecution of your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that it may result in the loss of your inherited assets?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that your testimony may be used against you?”
I looked at my signature.
“Yes.”
I signed.
My hand did not shake.
The second phase of the trial began three days later.
This time, I was not simply a witness.
I was the prosecution's key witness.
The courtroom was packed again.
Esther sat across from me.
She looked at me.
I looked back.
There was sadness in her eyes.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Sadness.
The prosecutor approached.
“Mr. Aranda, did your mother know that Lucía was alive?”
“Yes.”
“When did she know?”
“The entire time.”
A murmur spread through the courtroom.
“Did she participate in hiding Lucía?”
“Yes.”
“Did she authorize payments?”
“Yes.”
“Did she order people to falsify records?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know about Room 17?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know Lucía had been imprisoned there?”
“Yes.”
“Did she attempt to stop it?”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
The prosecutor paused.
“Why?”
I looked at Esther.
“Because she believed protecting the family was more important than protecting her daughter.”
Esther lowered her head.
The prosecutor continued.
“Did you personally benefit from the money generated by these activities?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Millions?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe you were entitled to that money?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I know where some of it came from.”
“Where?”
I looked at Lucía.
“From people who had been robbed.”
“From properties taken illegally.”
“From companies transferred through forged documents.”
“And from a woman who was declared dead while she was still alive.”
The courtroom was silent.
Then the defense attorney stood.
He walked slowly toward me.
“You hate your mother.”
“No.”
“You blame her.”
“Yes.”
“You want revenge.”
“No.”
“You are sacrificing the family fortune.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I looked at him.
“Because it was never ours.”
He frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“The fortune.”
I pointed toward the evidence.
“Some of it belonged to people my family destroyed.”
The attorney smiled.
“You could keep millions.”
“I know.”
“You could protect your wife.”
“I know.”
“You could protect your future children.”
I looked toward Valeria.
Then back at him.
“And what would I teach them?”
He stopped.
I continued.
“That money is more important than truth?”
Silence.
“That family is an excuse for crime?”
“No.”
“That if you're rich enough, you can erase someone?”
“No.”
“I won't teach them that.”
The final witness of the day was Esther.
She was brought to the stand.
For several minutes, she said nothing.
Then the prosecutor asked:
“Did Alejandro tell the truth?”
Esther looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Did you participate in the conspiracy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Lucía was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did you order her disappearance?”
Esther hesitated.
Then:
“Yes.”
Lucía closed her eyes.
I felt my chest tighten.
The prosecutor asked:
“Why?”
Esther began crying.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
“My father.”
“Why?”
“Because he controlled everything.”
“Why didn't you go to the authorities?”
“Because he had people everywhere.”
“Why did you continue participating after he died?”
Esther looked at me.
“Because by then I had become him.”
No one spoke.
“I told myself I was protecting my children.”
She wiped her tears.
“But I was protecting the life he had built.”
She looked at Lucía.
“And I was too afraid to admit that I had become the person I once hated.”
Then the prosecutor asked the question that changed everything.
“Where is Mateo?”
Esther's face went blank.
“I don't know.”
“Where is Isabel?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is Rafael?”
“I don't know.”
The prosecutor stepped closer.
“Do you know where Alejandro's grandfather is?”
Esther hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Yes.”
I sat forward.
The prosecutor asked:
“Where?”
Esther looked directly at me.
“He is in this building.”
Everyone turned.
The judge immediately ordered security to lock the courtroom.
Officers rushed toward the doors.
The gallery erupted.
I stood.
“Where?”
Esther pointed upward.
“Above us.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
There was a maintenance door.
A security officer opened it.
Behind it was a narrow staircase.
Someone had been living there.
Food.
Blankets.
A radio.
A camera.
And dozens of photographs.
All of us.
Me.
Valeria.
Lucía.
Esther.
Marta.
Mateo.
Everyone.
Someone had been watching us.
For years.
Then an officer shouted from the top of the stairs.
“We found something!”
He came down holding a photograph.
He handed it to me.
It showed my grandfather.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him stood a younger man.
I stared.
I knew the face.
I had seen it in the courtroom.
I had seen him every day.
The man standing beside my grandfather was the judge.
And written on the back were four words:
THEY OWNED THE COURT.
I looked toward the judge.
He was gone.
That evening, the verdict was postponed.
The courthouse became a crime scene.
The judge disappeared.
The trial was transferred.
And the Aranda case became something much larger.
But the most important thing had already happened.
I had chosen.
The fortune was gone.
The companies would be dismantled.
The properties would be sold.
The family name would become a warning rather than a symbol of power.
And my mother would face the consequences of what she had done.
I lost everything my grandfather had wanted me to protect.
But I gained something he had spent his entire life trying to take from me.
The truth.
As I left the courthouse with Valeria, Lucía called my name.
I turned.
She smiled.
“You chose us.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I looked at the courthouse.
Then at the fading Aranda name above the entrance.
“I chose who I wanted to become.”
Lucía walked toward me.
“And now?”
I looked at Valeria.
She placed her hand in mine.
“Now,” I said, “we find the people who are still missing.”
Lucía's smile disappeared.
“Mateo.”
“And Isabel.”
She nodded.
Then her eyes moved toward the street.
A black car had stopped across from the courthouse.
The window lowered.
For one second, I saw a familiar face.
Mateo.
Alive.
He looked directly at me.
Then he raised one hand.
Not a greeting.
A warning.
The car disappeared into traffic.
I stood frozen.
Valeria whispered:
“What did he want?”
I looked at the road.
“I don't know.”
But inside the car, Mateo had been holding something.
A photograph.
And before the window closed, I had seen it.
It was a photograph of my mother.
Esther.
Taken the night before.
On the back were three words.
SHE WAS NEVER IN CHARGE.
And suddenly I understood.
The trial had never been the end.
It had only exposed the people standing in front of the curtain.
May you like
Someone else had been pulling the strings.
And now that we had taken away the Aranda fortune, there was nothing left for them to lose.
