Chapter 2: The Invitation
Three weeks later, the invitations arrived at the Mendoza estate. They weren't text messages or cheap cards. They were thick, heavy ivory envelopes, stamped with an intricate gold leaf crest.
Doña Victoria held the envelope between two fingers as if it were contaminated. "Varela?" she scoffed, reading the return name. "She’s using her maiden name again. And look at this paper. She must have spent her entire divorce settlement just trying to impress us."
Alejandro poured himself a glass of whiskey, looking at the address enclosed. "It’s an address in the most exclusive, gated mountain ridge of Valle. You can’t even get past the main highway without a security clearance. She’s definitely renting a venue for the night to save face."
"Then we are all going," Doña Victoria declared, a predatory smile spreading across her face. "If she wants to spend her last dimes trying to play rich for one night, we will be there to watch her embarrass herself. Invite the whole family. Thirty-two of us. Let’s see if she can even afford the catering."
For the next week, the Mendozas prepared for what they thought would be a comedy show. They picked out their finest outfits, ready to flaunt their wealth in front of the "destitute" ex-wife. Alejandro bought a new sports car just for the drive. He wanted to make sure Elena saw exactly what she had lost.
On Easter Sunday, a caravan of luxury SUVs carrying the Mendoza clan wound up the private roads of the valley. The air grew crisper, the pine trees thicker, and the estates larger.
Finally, the lead SUV stopped.
Towering ahead of them was a massive, ultra-modern limestone villa that looked like something out of a European architectural magazine. It sat on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the entire valley, surrounded by manicured tropical palms and pristine white stone pathways.
Guarding the entrance was a colossal, heavy black iron gate.
Alejandro stepped out of his car, adjusting his sunglasses, a frown forming on his face. This didn't look like a rented event space. This looked like a fortress.
A mountain of a man in a black suit, an earpiece coiling down his neck, stepped out of the security booth. He looked at the Mendozas with a cold, unbothered gaze.
"State your business," the guard commanded.
"We are the Mendoza family," Alejandro said confidently, stepping forward. "Elena invited us. Check your little list."
The guard looked down at his tablet, then back up, his face expressionless. "Ah, yes. The Mendozas. Welcome to the private, permanent residence of Mrs. Elena Varela."
Doña Victoria’s smile froze. "Permanent?"
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Before she could ask another question, the massive iron gates began to swing open, revealing a breathtaking grand staircase made of pure white marble, leading up to a mansion that made the Mendoza estate look like a guest house.
The trap was set, and they had walked right into it.
