Chapter 11
Chapter 11: The Ashes of the Elite
The morning sun crept through the rusted gaps of the tin roof, painting streaks of gold across the dusty concrete floor. For the first time in over a thousand days, I didn't wake up with a knot of dread tightening my chest.
I sat at the edge of the small kitchen table, nursing a cup of cheap black coffee. The small, battered television in the corner was buzzing. Every local and national news channel was broadcasting the same breaking story.
"The Fall of the De la Vega Empire."
Helicopter footage showed the sprawling San Pedro mansion swarming with federal agents in the daylight. The anchors spoke in hushed, shocked tones as they detailed the charges: grand corruption, obstruction of justice, bribery, and murder. The footage cut to a clip of Bernardo being shoved into a police transport, his tailored suit rumpled, trying to hide his face from the flashing cameras. Victoria, stripped of her usual immaculate poise, was shown screaming at a journalist before an officer pushed her head down into a squad car.
They looked small. Pathetic. Stripped of their millions, they were finally reduced to exactly what they were: ordinary criminals.
"Papa?"
I turned off the television and looked toward the doorway. Sofia was rubbing her eyes, clutching her worn-out stuffed bear. She looked at me, tilting her head.
"You didn't put on your driver suit today," she said, her voice raspy from sleep.
May you like
I smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile that felt entirely foreign to my facial muscles. I walked over, picked her up, and spun her around until she giggled.
"No, my princess," I whispered, burying my face in her shoulder. "I'm never wearing that suit again. Today, we are just us."
