“Dad, why is she looking for food in the trash?” the little girl asked the CEO. What he did next left her speechless.
And now, now I’ve seen how he cares for Luciana, how he works until midnight on projects, how he rejects anything that smacks of special privilege. Lorenza sat across from him, something she’d never done in 15 years of service. That girl has a good heart, and whoever planted that evidence knows you know it. That’s why the trap is so cruel. They’re forcing you to choose between your head and your heart.
What would you do? I don’t have 300 employees depending on me, but if I did, I’d rather lose the company than lose my soul. He stood up. I’m going to make coffee. It’s going to be a long day. When he left, Sebastián walked to the window. Dawn was painting Santiago orange and gold. April brought cool mornings and warm afternoons. The last breath of summer before winter arrived. Beautiful, everything beautiful.
Why did beauty always come with pain? He decided. He would resign. It was the only way to protect Renata and his company. He went upstairs to find her. He needed to tell her his decision. He needed to. The guest apartment was ready. Bed made perfectly, desk clean, closet open, showing clothes still hanging, but personal suitcase missing, a white envelope on the nightstand. Sebastian opened it with trembling hands. Sebastian, by the time you read this, I’ll have already opened.
Forgive my cowardice in leaving without saying goodbye, but I knew that if I saw you, you would convince me to stay, and I can’t stay. I’ve attached my formal resignation letter to the board. In it, I accept full responsibility for corporate espionage. I admit to betraying your trust. I admit everything. It’s a lie, of course, but it’s a necessary lie.
With my resignation and confession, the board has no reason to remove you. Your reputation remains untarnished. Luciana is supporting her father. Three hundred employees keep their jobs. A small price to pay for so many lives protected. Don’t look for me. I’ve already booked a hostel room until I figure out where to go. The money you paid me gives me time to find something.
Tell Luciana I love her, that I haven’t forgotten her. That breaking promises is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but that sometimes breaking promises is like protecting the one you love. And tell yourself you didn’t fail. You gave me three months of dignity, of purpose, of feeling worth something again. No one can take that away from me. Thank you for seeing beyond the woman in the trash.
Thank you for risking so much for someone who didn’t deserve it. Live well. Love your daughter. Build beautiful things. And forget me, Renata. Sebastián read it twice, three times. Then he ran. He found the hostel in Barrio Brasil. Cheap, clean, anonymous, the kind of place where fallen middle-class refugees hid. The receptionist gave him a room number after seeing a 20,000-peso bill.
Sebastian went up three floors and banged on the door. “Renata, I know you’re there.” Silence. “Open up or I’ll break down the door.” The lock turned. Renata appeared. Red eyes, a gaunt face. “Go away. I read your letter. So you know it’s done.” “It’s not done until I say it’s done.” “It’s not your decision, Sebastian. It’s mine. I quit.”
I signed the confession. It was over. He pushed open the door and went inside. The room was tiny. Single bed, shared bathroom in the hallway, window overlooking an alley. Three months ago this would have been a luxury for Renata. Now it was a prison she chose willingly. “You can’t decide my battles,” Sebastián said. “Your battles.”
This is my battle, my past, my problem, my disaster. You got involved in my company, you became part of my family. That’s what makes it our disaster. I don’t have a family, Renata shouted. I only have me. It’s always been just me. And I learned a long time ago that you survive by protecting whoever you can. Even if it means sacrificing yourself.
This isn’t sacrifice, it’s surrender. What’s the difference? Sacrifice has a purpose. Surrender is just giving up. Renata collapsed onto the bed. I’m so tired, Sebastián, so tired of fighting, of surviving, of getting up every time I’m knocked down. So, I didn’t fight alone. Let me help. You already have. Three months of help. More than anyone gave me in 28 years.
It’s not enough. It has to be enough because if you stay, if you fight, you’ll lose everything. And I can’t live with that guilt. Sebastian knelt before her. Look at me. She raised her eyes. I built this company over 10 years. I know its value, 50 million on paper. But if I lose my integrity to save it, what did I really gain? Soulless money.
You gained security for Luciana. Luciana doesn’t need money, she needs a father who teaches her to do the right thing, even when it’s difficult, especially when it’s difficult. Tears streamed down Renata’s face. And if you fight and we lose anyway. And if you destroy your life for nothing. Then, at least I tried. At least I looked my daughter in the eyes and said, “I fought for what was right.”
“Sebastian, I love you.” The words hit like bombs. Renata froze. No, yes. I don’t know when it happened. Maybe that first night when you refused charity. Maybe when you faced the board without fear. Maybe all those nights working late, discovering you’re more than just talent.
You are courage, integrity, a fire that not even the streets could extinguish. I love you and I won’t lose you without a fight. Renata stood up and walked away. You can’t love me. I’m a mess. I come with legal baggage, a ruined reputation, a past that haunts me. I’m not a prize, I’m a burden. You’re everything I need. I’m not. I’m what you don’t need.
Luciana needs stability. You need peace. I only bring chaos. You bring life. They stared at each other across the tiny room. “Don’t look for me,” Renata finally said. “Please, accept my resignation. Protect your company, forget about me. And if I can’t, then learn.” She grabbed her bag and walked to the door. “Where are you going? That’s none of your business.” She left.
Sebastian let her go because Renata was right about one thing. He couldn’t force her to stay. He could only prove that she was worth fighting for. Sebastian arrived home at noon, defeated and exhausted. Luciana was waiting for him in the living room, drawing. “Hi, Daddy.” “Hi, sweetie.” “Renata’s coming over today.” Sebastian sat down next to her. How could he explain this to a five-year-old? Renata had to leave.
Luciana’s eyes instantly filled with tears. Forever. I don’t know, but he promised. He said he’d stay. Sometimes promises are broken. My love, it’s not fair. Luciana threw down her crayons. She stood up. Fists clenched, tears streaming down her face. They always leave. Mom left. Now Renata’s gone. Everyone leaves.
Luciana, why didn’t you fight for her, Dad? The question stopped him in his tracks. What? When I’m scared, you fight my fears. When I’m sick, you fight the illness. Why don’t you fight for Renata? Sebastián looked at his daughter. Five years old, but wiser than any adult at that moment. He remembered another question three months ago. A cold night.
Dad, why is that woman looking in the trash? That question changed everything. This question would do the same. You’re right, he said slowly. Yes, yes, I didn’t fight back. I let her go because I was afraid. Of what? Of losing my company, my reputation, the things I’ve built. But Renata is worth more than things, right? Sebastián hugged his daughter. Yes, she’s worth so much more.
Then go fight, Dad. He stood back, looking at her. I could lose. We could lose the house, the money, everything. Luciana thought about it seriously. My therapist says things can be replaced. People can’t. Your therapist is very wise. Are you going to bring her back? I’m going to try. Do you promise? Sebastian hesitated, then nodded. I promise to try with everything I have. Luciana smiled through her tears.
That’s enough. Sebastián called Álvaro Pinto. I need the best criminal lawyers in Chile, the ones who defend presidents and billionaires. Why would I destroy Ernesto Pizarro completely and publicly? Sebastián, without solid evidence. Then find evidence. Hire whoever you need.
Spend whatever it takes. I want everything. His finances, his businesses, every architect he destroyed. I want a pattern so clear that even his lawyers can’t deny it. That will take weeks, maybe months. So start now. Next call. His corporate lawyer drafts a resignation as SEO, effective in 30 days, but includes a clause.
If the board approves, I’ll transfer shares to escrow and confiscate them for employees. They can’t sell the company for five years. That reduces its value dramatically. Exactly. If they oust me, they can’t stay silent. They have to keep the company running. It’s a risky move. Everything is risky. Now, third call. Trusted journalist at El Mercurio. I have a story.
Prominent executive systematically destroying young architects. Eight victims in six years. Interested. Can you prove it? Give me two weeks. You’ll have award-winning evidence. I’ll give you three weeks. Then I’ll publish whatever I have. He hung up. He looked at his office. Ten years of life within these walls. Maybe he’d lose them all. But Luciana was right. Things can be replaced, people can’t.
Lorenza showed up with coffee. She decided to fight. I decided. And the board can do whatever they want. I resign or they remove me, it doesn’t matter, but I’m not going to let them win without a fight. And Renata, first I clear her name, then, then I’ll ask her to forgive me for letting her go. Lorenza smiled. She’ll forgive him. How do you know? Because she’s in love too.
Anyone with eyes can see it. So why did she leave? Because love sometimes means protecting. Even if protecting hurts. That night Sebastián didn’t sleep again, but this time not out of fear, but out of determination. Ernesto Pizarro had spent six years destroying innocent people. Maritza had betrayed five years of trust out of pathological jealousy.
The board valued money over justice. Everyone thought Sebastián would choose the safe, the easy, the profitable path. They were wrong. He had built his empire by being calculating, careful, avoiding risks. Now he would risk everything. For truth, for justice, for love. At 3 a.m., he emailed the entire board.
Dear colleagues, I reject the ultimatum. I will not fire Renata Salazar. I am submitting my voluntary resignation as SEO, effective in 30 days, under the attached terms. During those 30 days, I will investigate the origin of the falsified evidence because it is false, and I will prove it. If at the end of 30 days I have no proof, I will leave without a fight.
But if I have them, I will file criminal charges against whoever is responsible, no matter who it is. Integrity is non-negotiable. I learned that from the architect I rescued from the trash. She has more integrity than all of us put together. Sebastián Olmedo pressed send. There was no turning back. The sun rose over Santiago. April giving way to May. Autumn arriving in full force.
Sebastian watched the city awaken. Millions of people beginning their day. Most would never know about this battle, but it mattered nonetheless, because some battles aren’t fought for an audience, they’re fought for a soul. And Sebastian Olmedo had just declared war for his. Day 3. The forensic analyst looked at Sebastian with a strange expression. I found something.
What? Claudio Núñez, a digital forensics expert from the Investigations Department, projected code onto the screen. The emails look real at first glance. Correct metadata, consistent timestamps. But look here, he pointed to lines of code incomprehensible to Sebastián. Each email has a unique digital signature from the server, like a fingerprint.
These emails have the correct signature for the Pacific server, so they’re legitimate. Wait, here’s the problem. I checked the server logs. The creation timestamps in the logs don’t match the timestamps in the emails themselves. What does that mean? It means someone with administrative access to the server created these emails directly in the database.
They weren’t sent by a regular user; they were inserted manually. Sebastian leaned forward. “Can you test it?” “I already did. Look, the email was supposedly sent on February 15th at 2:17 AM, but the server log shows it was created on March 28th at 11:43 PM, six weeks after the date shown.” “Exactly.”
Someone rolled back the data, and only IT personnel with ROUT access could do that. Who has that access at your company? Four people: the head of IT, two senior administrators, and a systems assistant. Sebastian called HR. “I need the complete IT personnel history for the last three months.” An hour later, he had the answer.
A systems assistant, Mario Leiva, abruptly resigned on April 5, two days before the evidence surfaced. Where is he now? We don’t know. He listed an address in Argentina on his resignation letter. Sebastián called Álvaro. Mario Leiva, find him. It took four days. Álvaro tracked him down to Buenos Aires. Do you want me to bring him back? Not yet. First, find out who paid him. Day 9. Álvaro called.
A bank transfer of $100,000 three days before I resigned. Origin: a Shell account in the Cayman Islands. It took a while, but I traced the actual owner. Who? No, Pizarro. Maritza Escobar. Sebastián felt the ground shift beneath him. Are you sure? Absolutely. The Shell account is registered in his deceased mother’s name, a common way to hide money. Maritza deposited $100,000.
Mario Leiva got them out two days later. Son of Hay más. We audited Marita’s finances. She’s been diverting small amounts for three years. 500 here, 1000 there. Approximate total, $200,000. Embezzlement. Yes. And I bet Pizarro found out, used her as a pawn. Sebastián closed his eyes. Five years working with Maritza, five years of trust, destroyed by jealousy and despair. I want to confront her today.
Are you sure? We could go straight to the police. First, I want to hear her say why. That afternoon, Sebastián found Maritza in his office. She looked up, a tense smile on her face. “Sebastián, do you need something?” He closed the door and locked it. “I need you to tell me the truth.” “About what?” “About Mario Leiva. About the $1,000 you paid him.”
About how you planted false evidence against Renata. Maritza paled, then recovered. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sebastián threw the bank documents onto his desk. I have transfers. I have forensic analysis of the emails. I have evidence of your embezzlement for three years. I have everything, Maritza.
She looked at the papers. Her hands trembled. Sebastian, why wouldn’t you understand? Try me. Maritza stood up and walked to the window. Her reflection showed a broken woman. Five years, she whispered. Five years loving you in silence. Maritza, I came to work every day hoping you would see me. Really see me.
Not as a CFO, as a woman, as someone who could love you, care for you, be what your ex-wife wasn’t. She turned away, tears streaming freely. But you never saw me. To you, I was just efficient, Maritza, reliable, Maritza. Maritza, who’s always there, but never seen. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You didn’t have to know, you had to feel, but you didn’t feel anything because I’m not a 28-year-old blonde with a tragic past.
The bitterness in her voice was like a knife. Then she appeared, rescued from the trash, and in three months she accomplished what I couldn’t in five years. She made you feel, she made you take risks, she made you love. Maritza laughed. A broken sound. Do you know what it feels like to see the man you love look at another woman the way he never looked at you? The way he’ll never look at you again because you’re 45 and you have wrinkles and you’re no longer what men want. This doesn’t justify what you did. I know. Do you think I don’t know? I’m a monster.
I became a monster because of unrequited love. She slumped in her chair. Pizarro contacted me in March. He said he knew about my embezzlement, that he had evidence, that he would go to the police unless I helped. In exchange for what? Evidence against Renata. He needed it to come from the inside.
I had access to servers, to IT, to everything. I was perfect. You could have refused, gone to prison, lost everything. At least this way I had a chance. If Renata left, maybe, maybe you would too. It didn’t end. It didn’t need to. Sebastián felt more pity than anger. It’s worth destroying an innocent life for unrequited love.
No, nothing was worth it, because even if I left, you would never love me. I see it in your eyes now. Disgust, disappointment, but never love. Resign today, and maybe I won’t press charges. Maritza laughed bitterly. You already investigated me. You know about the embezzlement. The charges will come with or without my resignation. So, make things easy for me. Testify against Pizarro. Give me everything, and I’ll plead for leniency at your sentencing.
Why would you do that? Because despite everything, you worked faithfully for years before this. Because your weakness used you. Because I understand desperate love and I have compassion. Maritza closed her eyes. I will testify, I will give you everything, but not out of mercy, for atonement. They remained silent. Then Marita asked, “Do you really love her?” “Yes, more than you loved your wife.” Sebastian thought.
His ex-wife was youthful passion, attraction, superficial compatibility that collapsed under the pressure of parenthood. “Renata was different, deeper, more real.” “Yes,” he added. “Then go for her. Don’t make my mistake. Don’t let pride or fear steal the only thing that matters. She’s gone now. So find her, and when you find her, don’t let her go.” Maritza opened a drawer and took out an envelope. The resignation letter was already written.
She knew this day would come. She placed it on the desk, and Sebastián, sorry for everything, left his own office. Sebastián watched her go. Five years of working together, ended in a 20-minute conversation. With Maritza’s testimony and forensic evidence, Sebastián expanded the investigation. Day 15.
Álvaro returned with a devastating discovery. Not eight victims, but fifteen. Sebastián looked up from his documents. What? Pizarro has been doing this for ten years. Fifteen young architects in total, all the same pattern: no family, talented, destroyed when they created something brilliant.
Where were the other seven? Scattered across Valparaíso, Concepción, La Serena, and even Puerto Montt. Pizarro recruited from different cities, which is why no one connected the dots. And now, I have testimony from four willing to talk. The other 11, some disappeared, some changed professions. One is in drug rehabilitation, another committed suicide two years ago.
Sebastian felt nauseous. My God, this is bigger than corporate fraud. It’s systematic predation, the destruction of lives for greed and ego. We need to go to the prosecutor’s office. I already did. The prosecutor assigned a special team, but they want you to go public. Media pressure will help. When? When you’re ready.
Sebastian looked at the calendar. Day 18 of his 30-day ultimatum. Press conference scheduled for tomorrow. Ritz Carlton Hotel conference room. May 19. 50 journalists, six television cameras, live broadcast. Sebastian stood before them all. Renata was somewhere in the city, unaware of what was happening. He had tried to contact her.
Unanswered calls, ignored messages. I was fighting this battle alone for now. Thank you for coming, he began. I have information about systemic fraud in the construction industry, specifically regarding Ernesto Pizarro and his company. Murmurs filled the room. For 10 years, Pizarro has identified talented young architects without support networks.
He hires them, gains their trust, expects them to develop innovative projects. Then he steals those projects and destroys the architects. He projected the first slide, a list of 15 names. 15 victims we can confirm. There are probably more. Each one lost their career, reputation, years of work. One committed suicide. Others developed mental health problems or addictions.
Next slide. Documents showing a pattern. The method involves signing administrative documents that actually authorize fraudulent funds. When discovered, the architect is legally liable. Pizarro files lawsuits, freezes assets, and destroys reputations. Next slide. Project photos.
These buildings, these complexes, these award-winning designs—all stolen. The talent belonged to others. Pizarro merely took credit. Journalists wrote frantically. One victim is Renata Salazar. You know her from recent negative coverage. I accused you three months ago of hiring her knowing about her legal troubles. He paused. Those troubles are Pizarro’s doing.
Renata is innocent, and I have forensic evidence proving it. Claudio Núñez’s analysis was presented. Additionally, recent evidence that appeared to implicate her in corporate espionage was planted by an employee of my company, coerced by Pizarro. That employee resigned and will testify. The questions erupted. Sebastián raised his hand. The prosecution has all the evidence. The formal investigation begins today.
I expect criminal charges against Ernesto Pizarro this week. Why reveal this publicly? asked a reporter from La Tercera. Because the victims deserve public vindication. Because the industry deserves to know. And because if media pressure helps bring about justice, use it. What do you gain from this? Sebastián smiled sadly.
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