Chapter 11 - The Smear Campaign|
Mateo ran back inside the center just as Mariana was turning on the small television in the staff breakroom. The local evening news anchor was speaking over a graphic that read: CHARITY OR COVER-UP?
"...investigations have been launched into the Mariana Hope Foundation," the reporter announced, her face grave. "Anonymous sources claim the director, Mariana Reyes, has been using the non-profit as a front to unlawfully hoard foster children, bypassing state adoption regulations to secure government grants."
"Turn it off," Mariana said, her voice completely hollow.
Mateo reached over and clicked the remote. The silence that followed was suffocating.
"It's Vance," Mateo said. "He was outside just now. He said they were going to use the stick."
"They're trying to destroy my reputation," Mariana whispered, sinking into a plastic chair. "If the state believes I’m running an illegal operation, they’ll pull my license. They’ll shut down the center. And they’ll place all of you back into the system."
"Can they really do that?" Mateo asked, panic rising in his chest. He looked around the breakroom, thinking of all the younger kids who finally felt safe here. They couldn't lose this place.
"With enough money and the right lawyers, they can make the truth look like a lie," she replied, rubbing her temples. "They want to isolate you, Mateo. If I lose the foundation, I lose my income, my home, and my ability to prove I can provide for you in court."
Suddenly, Mariana's cell phone began to ring incessantly. It was the foundation's board members, the local press, and concerned donors. The smear campaign was already working.
"I need to make some calls," Mariana said, her professional mask sliding back into place, though her hands still shook. "Don't let the other kids see you panic, okay? We need to keep things normal."
Mateo nodded, but as he walked back out into the hallway, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was an unknown number.
He hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"
"Mateo." The voice was female, soft, and terrifyingly familiar, even though he hadn't heard it in a decade. "It's your mother, Elena. Please don't hang up."
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"You have no right to call me," Mateo gritted his teeth.
"I can stop all of this," Elena cried softly through the receiver. "The news, the lawyers, the threats against Mariana. Just agree to meet me, Mateo. Just one hour. That's all I ask."
