Chapter 8 - The Prodigal Daughter
The leather belt cracked against her shoulder blades, snapping Raquel back to the agonizing present.
One hundred and twelve.
She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the phone call she had made from a payphone just three days ago. It was the hardest thing she had ever done.
She had dialed a private, unlisted number she hadn't called in eight years.
"Hello?" the deep, gruff voice had answered.
"Dad," Raquel whispered, her voice breaking. "It’s me."
Guillermo Luján, her father, was a self-made billionaire tech mogul. He was a man who commanded boardrooms and built empires from silicon and code. But he had been a terrible father. He was always absent. He had missed her birthdays, her school plays, and the terrible, lonely nights when her mother was dying in the hospital. Raquel had cut him out of her life entirely, vowing never to rely on a man who prioritized wealth over his own family.
"Raquel," Guillermo gasped, the shock evident in his voice. "My God. Are you alright?"
"I need help," she sobbed, abandoning her pride entirely. "They are going to take my baby. They are going to kill me, Dad."
She spent an hour explaining everything. The abuse, the fake emails, the corrupt judge, the upcoming gala where Mauricio planned to publicly humiliate her as a final punishment.
Guillermo had been silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with tears and a terrifying, cold rage.
"I have failed you your entire life, Raquel," Guillermo said. "I will not fail you today."
He had laid out the plan. It was incredibly dangerous.
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"We need them to confess in front of witnesses," Guillermo had instructed. "I will have a team in the service corridors. I need you to hold on, just for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes," she had promised.
