I stared at the NexoWare investment file while the city lights moved past the car window. MXN 120,000,000.

Three weeks passed.

The legal proceedings moved at an incredible speed, fueled by Daniel’s relentless efficiency and the undisputed evidence of domestic abuse. The temporary restraining order was converted into a permanent three-year injunction, and the court granted an expedited dissolution of our marriage. Because of our prenuptial agreement and the evidence of financial fraud on Mauricio's part, I walked away with one hundred percent of my assets intact.

Mauricio, on the other hand, was stripped of everything. NexoWare entered forced liquidation, its remaining assets sold off at bargain prices to cover outstanding debts. The Ortega family home was posted for public auction, forcing Beatriz and Mauricio to move into a tiny, run-down two-bedroom rental on the outer edges of the city.

I thought the chapter was entirely closed, but people who build their lives on entitlement rarely go quietly into the night.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when my secretary informed me that a woman was causing a disturbance in the lower main lobby of Horizonte Tower.

"Is it Beatriz?" I asked, looking up from my desk.

"No, Miss Vance," my secretary replied nervously. "It’s Miss Sofia Ramirez. Mauricio’s elder sister."

Sofia had been living in Spain for the past three years, pursuing an expensive lifestyle funded almost entirely by Mauricio’s corporate expense accounts. I had only met her twice during my engagement, and both times she had treated me with absolute, cold indifference, refusing to even address me by my name.

"Send her up," I said calmly. "Have security stand by outside."

Five minutes later, Sofia walked into my office. Unlike her mother, who was dramatic and chaotic, Sofia was sharp, icy, and calculating. She wore a dark designer coat and held a pristine leather handbag, though her eyes were filled with anger.

"Valeria," she said, skipping any pretense of greetings. "Or should I call you Miss Vance now?"

"You can call me whatever you like, Sofia," I said, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. "Though I suggest you keep it professional."

Sofia didn't sit down. She walked up to the edge of my desk, placing her palms flat against the mahogany surface. "You destroyed my family over a domestic argument."

"I ended a marriage because your brother physically assaulted me," I corrected her, my voice dropping to an icy register. "And his business collapsed because he was running a fraudulent company built on hidden debt. I did not destroy your family, Sofia. Mauricio’s actions did."

"My mother is living in a dump!" Sofia snapped, her composure slipping. "She’s sixty-five years old, Valeria! She has heart conditions! She can't survive in that neighborhood! Mauricio is working as a low-level car salesman just to pay for her medication!"

"And where were you when your mother was throwing dirty laundry at a woman's feet on her wedding night?" I asked, looking her dead in the eyes. "Where were you when Mauricio was using company funds to pay for your apartment in Madrid while defaulting on his employees' health insurance?"

Sofia’s jaw tightened. She had no answer for that.

"You came here thinking you could guilt me into offering your family a financial settlement, didn't you?" I asked, a bitter smile gracing my lips. "You thought that because I am a woman, I would eventually soften and feel pity for the people who tried to crush me."

"You have hundreds of millions of pesos, Valeria!" Sofia yelled, her voice echoing off the glass walls. "Giving my family two million to buy back their house would be like loose pocket change to you! You are being cruel!"

"No," I said, standing up slowly and resting my hands on my desk. "Cruelty is hitting someone who trusts you. Cruelty is degrading a person because you think they are beneath you. What I am giving your family is consequences. And consequences are completely free."

I nodded to the doorway. Marcus opened the door, flanked by two security guards.