Chapter 2 - THE BALLROOM BACKLASH

At exactly 9:00 AM on Monday morning, the central trading floor of Mendoza Infrastructure dissolved into a state of absolute, unadulterated panic.

The automated terminal screens began flashing bright red compliance quarantine warnings in rapid succession, systematically blocking every commercial credit line.

Diego sat in his high-backed leather chair, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his hands trembling violently as he tried to bypass the security wall.

His mother, Beatriz, burst through the mahogany double doors of the executive suite, her face a pale mask of raw high-society terror.

"Diego! The regional bank has just executed an emergency freeze on our primary asset vault!" she shrieked, slamming her designer purse onto the desk.

"They are saying our corporate guarantees are entirely invalid because the parent company shares are under an active judicial recapture order!"

Diego looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his confidence entirely stripped away as the heavy, synchronized footsteps of federal agents echoed through the lobby outside.

"She knew, Mother... she had the compliance logs the entire time we thought she was sleeping in that hospital wing," he whispered hoarsely.

"She didn't just expose us to the Salvatierra family; she has initiated a total, non-negotiable liquidation of our silent investment trust."

The double doors were violently pushed open, and I walked through the threshold, my wheelchair guided by Mateo, my posture perfectly straight in a tailored dark wool suit.

Behind us walked four armed federal marshals whose gold shields gleamed under the office lights.

"The corporate registry is closed, Diego," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a steel blade.