Chapter 8 - THE NEW ERA
At 2:00 PM, the main auditorium of Empaques Rivera was packed to capacity. Over two hundred workers—line operators, truck drivers, administrative clerks, and kitchen staff—filled the rows of seats, whispering nervously among themselves.
For years, this room had been used by Alejandro to deliver condescending speeches, announce wage freezes, and threaten workers with termination.
The room fell dead silent as I walked onto the wooden stage, wearing a professional navy blazer, flanked by Don Ernesto, Doña Rosa, and Claudia Gomez.
I walked up to the podium, adjusted the microphone, and looked out at the sea of hard-working faces staring back at me.
"Good afternoon, everyone," I spoke clearly into the microphone.
A quiet murmur ran through the crowd.
"Most of you knew me three weeks ago as Valeria—the assistant cook who chopped onions and scrubbed pots in the factory kitchen," I began, a small smile appearing on my face. "Some of you saw me get humiliated in the cafeteria three days ago. But today, I stand before you as the legal owner and CEO of Empaques Rivera."
The crowd exploded into sudden, thunderous applause! Workers stood up, clapping their hands, shouting words of encouragement.
I raised my hands gently, asking for quiet, and continued.
"For five years, this company was run by greed, deception, and disrespect," I said firmly. "Management viewed you not as the backbone of this factory, but as expenses to be cut. That era ends today."
I motioned to Claudia, who stepped forward holding a box of bank checkbooks.
"First," I announced, "every single employee sitting in this room will receive their full back-pay for unpaid overtime today, along with a twenty percent bonus for standing up for your dignity during the strike."
The crowd erupted into cheers once again! Doña Rosa wept openly on stage, holding onto Don Ernesto's arm.
"Second," I continued, "Don Ernesto is returning to the company as Vice President of Plant Operations, and Doña Rosa is being appointed as the head of Employee Welfare and Operations."
Don Ernesto bowed his head humbly as the workers cheered his name: "Don Ernesto! Don Ernesto!"
"And finally," I concluded, looking out at the united workforce, "the land under this factory—land that my late father, Julián Morales, pledged thirty years ago—will be placed into a irrevocable employee trust fund, ensuring that no corrupt executive can ever sell this company out from under your feet again!"
The entire auditorium stood up in a massive, standing ovation! People cheered, hugged one another, and cried with pure relief.
After the assembly adjourned, I walked up to the third-floor executive suite—the plush office that Alejandro had used to plot his betrayals.
I opened the glass doors, called in the maintenance crew, and instructed them to strip out every piece of expensive Italian furniture, the crystal decanters, and the framed portraits of Alejandro.
"Replace it all with simple, functional wooden desks," I instructed the team. "And bring in the original blue construction blueprints my father drew in 1996 to hang on the main wall."
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As the workers began clearing out the room, my phone chimed with a notification from the State Superior Court.
The criminal trial date for Alejandro Rivera, Teresa Rivera, and Mónica Estrada had been officially finalized. The day of absolute judgment was coming—and there would be no mercy.
