Chapter 33
Chapter 33: The Ghost of the First Son
The jet touched down on a private, unlisted airstrip in the rugged wilderness of Patagonia, South America. This was the final fallback point—a brutalist concrete bunker built into the side of a dead volcano, purchased by Marcus Mendoza forty years ago and forgotten by the global banking system.
Daniel carried Alejandro inside, the biting Andean wind whipping at their coats. The bunker was massive, powered by a subterranean geothermal grid. It was filled with servers, medical pods, and rows of historical family archives.
As Daniel walked through the central command room, a massive projection screen automatically flickered to life.
An old, black-and-white video began to play. It was Marcus Mendoza, aged thirty, standing in front of the very same bunker.
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"To the Mendoza who inherits this room," the projected image of his grandfather spoke, his voice crisp and commanding. "If you are reading this, the public empire has fallen, as I knew it would. Greed is a short-term asset. True power requires transformation. The bloodline must be refined, purged of emotional variance. My grandson Daniel will provide the defiance; my grandson Tomás will provide the ambition. And from their synthesis, I shall return."
Daniel felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. He looked down at Alejandro. The baby was staring up at the screen, a faint, chilling smile playing on his tiny lips. He wasn't watching a video. He was watching a mirror.
