Part 3: The Broken Route
Part 3: The Broken Route
By 8:00 AM, the heat in Santa Fe was already rising.
I stood in the observation booth above the main loading dock of Ruta Norte Logistics. Below me, thirty-seven refrigerated trucks were idling, their diesel engines vibrating through the concrete floor.
These drivers depended on me. Their families depended on these routes.
Alejandro's silver company SUV pulled up to the security gate.
I watched through the glass as he scanned his executive badge against the electronic reader. The light flashed red.
He tried again. Red.
He leaned out of the window, shouting something at the gate guard, an older man named Roberto who had been with me since the beginning. Roberto didn't lower the barrier. He simply pointed his finger toward the main highway.
Alejandro got out of the car, his face flushed with anger, his suit jacket already wrinkled. He looked up at the observation booth and saw me standing there.
I didn't wave. I didn't look angry. I just held my coffee cup and watched him like a stranger.
My phone rang. His name flashed on the screen.
I let it ring until it went to voicemail. Then I clicked open the security footage Marcus had mentioned the night before.
The video was from 2:00 AM at Dock 4.
Alejandro was standing next to a man wearing a dark uniform from our largest competitor, Durango Freight. They were exchanging a manifested clipboard. Alejandro was signing over our exclusive pharmaceutical delivery routes—the very contracts I was supposed to renew at dinner tonight.
He was selling the marrow of my company to the highest bidder in exchange for a vice-president position at Durango Freight once Ruta Norte was forced into bankruptcy.
A knock sounded on my office door.
My attorney, Elena, walked in carrying a leather briefcase. She didn't look happy.
"The video you sent me of Teresa tearing the dress is admissible for a restraining order," Elena said, dropping a stack of documents onto the table. "But that's the least of your problems, Mariana."
"Tell me."
"Alejandro filed a petition for emergency spousal support and asset freezing at 7:30 this morning," she said, looking at me with deep concern. "He claimed you are emotionally unstable and destructive. He used the fact that you changed the locks on the guesthouse last night as proof of an unsafe environment."
May you like
I let out a cold laugh. "He's fast."
"His mother's family has deep political connections in the county," Elena warned. "They are trying to force a judge to sign an injunction before we can present the fraud evidence. If the judge signs it, you won't even be allowed to log into your own bank accounts by noon."
