Chapter 1 - The Courtroom's Stage
The heavy oak doors of Courtroom 4B remained firmly closed, sealing the suffocating air inside.
The courtroom was packed to the absolute limit. Every wooden bench was filled with sharp-eyed journalists, legal aides, and curious onlookers eager for a glimpse into the dramatic collapse of a billionaire’s marriage.
At the center of it all stood Julián Salvatierra. He wore a flawless, custom-tailored navy-blue suit that screamed wealth and untouchable power. He stood near the defense table, leaning casually, laughing out loud. The sound echoed harshly against the high ceilings, a cruel, mocking laugh entirely devoid of empathy.
He was laughing at his wife.
Julián behaved as if watching the woman he had married lose her home, her life’s work, and her public dignity was nothing more than the grand finale of a private, exclusive cocktail party.
Claudia Rivera did not bow her head.
She sat completely still at the plaintiff's table. She wore a severe, high-collared gray jacket, buttoned tightly all the way to her chin, despite the stifling heat of the room. Her hands rested flat on the polished wooden table before her.
Her expression was unsettlingly calm. It wasn't the calmness of defeat, nor was it the quiet anticipation of victory. It was the absolute, terrifying stillness of a storm gathering its strength.
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Outside the thick windows, the chaotic soundtrack of Mexico City continued unabated: the blaring horns of impatient traffic, the distant shouts of street vendors, the hurried footsteps of millions of people living their lives.
But inside the courtroom, the atmosphere was so incredibly dense and heavy that even the seasoned reporters in the gallery had stopped writing, their pens hovering nervously over their notepads.
