Ashes of San Miguel

The Lion in the Office

The next morning, Alejandro stood outside the gleaming glass tower of Cuatro Mares Corporation, dressed in the same worn jeans and boots that had carried him through years of backbreaking labor. The guards at the entrance eyed him with distaste, one of them even stepping in front of the revolving door.

“Can I help you, sir?” the taller of the two asked, his voice laced with contempt.

Alejandro gave a faint smile. “Yeah. Tell your boss one of his ‘worthless’ employees is here to collect his last paycheck.”

The guard scoffed. “If you don’t have an appointment, you’re not getting past the lobby.”

Alejandro pulled out his phone and tapped it a few times. “You sure about that?”

Before the guard could respond, the phone behind the front desk rang. The receptionist picked up, nodded stiffly, and then glanced at Alejandro with widened eyes.

“The CEO will see him,” she whispered.

The guards looked baffled as Alejandro strode past them, his boots echoing on the marble floor.

Joaquín Salgado’s office was everything Alejandro remembered—an ivory tower of expensive taste and corporate arrogance. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, and the office smelled faintly of imported leather and power.

Joaquín sat behind his massive oak desk, fingers steepled, wearing a navy-blue tailored suit that probably cost more than a month’s wages for most of the people downstairs.

“You’ve got guts,” Joaquín said with a smirk, not bothering to stand. “Most men would be too ashamed to show their face after what happened.”

Alejandro didn’t sit. “I’m not most men.”

“No, you’re not,” Joaquín agreed. “You’re worse.”

Alejandro tilted his head, calm but watchful. “Then why did you agree to see me?”

“Curiosity,” Joaquín said, rising to his feet. “You caused a mess, Alejandro. Fighting in public. Dragging our company’s name into your marital drama. You embarrassed us.”

“You embarrassed yourselves by letting Jaime López get away with corruption for years,” Alejandro said coolly. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Let me guess,” Joaquín sighed. “You want your final wages. Sorry to disappoint you. According to our policy, any behavior deemed ‘damaging to company image’ forfeits the severance and deposits. That includes unpaid leave or public disgrace. You broke both.”

Alejandro’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re stealing my money because of a lie?”

Joaquín walked around the desk, standing toe-to-toe with him now. “You think you matter, Jiménez? You think a small-time laborer like you can bark demands at me?”

Alejandro didn’t flinch. “No. But I’m also not leaving empty-handed.”

The tension in the room thickened. Joaquín’s smirk faltered for a second.

“You don’t scare me,” he muttered.

“You should be terrified,” Alejandro replied.

And in one swift motion, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a black metal card—unmarked except for the faint crest of the Jiménez family embossed in gold.

Joaquín froze.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

“Where did you get that?” he whispered.

Alejandro leaned in. “This card is worth more than your entire company, Joaquín. And I’m done pretending I’m just another worker. You stole from me. Now, I’ll take something from you.”

“You’re bluffing—”

“I don’t bluff,” Alejandro said. “I bought twenty percent of Cuatro Mares stock this morning—under another name. Tomorrow, I’ll own thirty. In a week, I’ll have a controlling interest. You’ll be filing reports to me, if you’re lucky enough to keep your job.”

Joaquín stumbled back a step.

“But I don’t want your seat,” Alejandro continued. “I want your empire to crumble. Slowly. Piece by piece. Starting with every corrupt contract Jaime approved. Every under-the-table deal. Every falsified report.”

“You can’t—”

“I already have,” Alejandro interrupted. “Carlos is gathering everything. I’ll leak the documents to the media if I don’t receive my full payment by noon. With interest.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Try me.”

There was a long silence.

Joaquín’s face was pale now, sweat dotting his forehead. “Why are you doing this?”

Alejandro’s expression darkened. “Because I’m done being the man who takes the fall so others can rise.”

He turned toward the door.

“Tell Jaime,” Alejandro said without looking back, “that if he ever touches another paycheck that isn’t his, I’ll personally drag him out by the collar and make him beg for a mop job at a gas station.”

Back downstairs, Carlos was waiting for him outside in a matte black SUV. He wore dark sunglasses, a neat beard, and the easy confidence of someone who knew how to disappear—or make someone else do it.

“How’d it go?” Carlos asked.

“Perfectly,” Alejandro said, climbing into the passenger seat. “We’re in his head now.”

Carlos passed him a manila folder. “You’ll like this. Velázquez Group has been laundering money through three shell companies—Velatriz Holdings, Mar de Plata, and one called NovaEight Global. They’re clean on paper, but we have enough dirt to make them crumble.”

Alejandro flipped through the photos and bank statements, his jaw tightening.

“And Walter?” he asked.

Carlos pulled out another file. “Spent over fifty million pesos in the last six months alone. Mostly on failed investments and bribing officials to keep Velázquez Group afloat. That man’s running out of luck.”

Alejandro closed the folder and stared out the window.

“I want to hit him where it hurts,” he said. “Publicly. And I want him to watch it all burn.”

“Careful,” Carlos warned. “Vengeance is a hell of a drug.”

“This isn’t just vengeance,” Alejandro muttered. “It’s justice.”

Carlos nodded slowly, then handed Alejandro a phone.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from one of our sources. You’re going to want to hear it.”

Alejandro pressed play.

It was a recording. Elena’s voice.

“I know what I’m doing is wrong,” she said, her voice shaking. “But if I don’t marry Walter, my family will lose everything. He said he’d pay thirty million—but only if I sign the papers by the end of the week. God forgive me, I think I’m going to do it.”

The message ended.

Alejandro stared at the screen, his hand shaking slightly.

“Carlos,” he said quietly, “get me everything you can on the Hernández family’s debts. I want to know who they owe, how much, and when the money is due.”

“You’re still trying to save her?”

Alejandro looked out at the city skyline, burning gold in the morning sun.

“No,” he said. “I’m going to remind her who really stood by her side… and who only sees her as a pawn.”

Carlos smirked. “Then it begins.”

That evening, Joaquín sat alone in his office, sweating. His assistant had just informed him that another ten percent of Cuatro Mares stock had been purchased by a shell company with offshore backing.

His hands trembled as he dialed a number.

“It’s Joaquín,” he whispered. “We have a problem.”

On the other end, a man with a deep voice answered. “Jiménez?”

“He’s back,” Joaquín said. “And he knows everything.”

A pause. Then the voice answered: “Then it’s time to kill him. Again.”