Chapter 5 - Brenda’s Counter-Attack
The following morning, the federal courthouse in Zapopan was surrounded by a swarm of media reporters, camera crews, and curious onlookers. The news broke nationally: CEON OF CONDOR HOLDINGS TARGETED IN ELABORATE POISONING AND FAKE BURIAL PLOT BY WIFE.
Inside holding cell block B, Brenda Cárdenas sat on a concrete bench, wearing an orange jumpsuit, her hair unbrushed, and her face devoid of makeup. But her eyes were not filled with remorse—they burned with feral, unhinged fury.
The heavy steel door swung open, and her high-priced defense attorney, Eduardo Garza, stepped inside, closing the latch behind him.
“Eduardo!” Brenda snapped, jumping to her feet and rushing toward the bars. “Get me out of here! What is taking so long?! Why am I still in this filthy hole?!”
Garza adjusted his designer tie, looking exhausted and deeply unsettled. He pulled a folding chair up to the bars and sat down slowly.
“Brenda, calm down,” Garza said in a low, urgent whisper. “You are facing attempted aggravated homicide, conspiracy, fraud, and abuse of corpse protocols. The federal prosecutor has locked down every single asset you tried to transfer to the Bahamas.”
“Freeze them?!” Brenda shrieked, slamming her palms against the iron bars. “That’s my money! That’s my future! You’re one of the best lawyers in Jalisco! Find a loophole! Claim mental instability! Blame the grief of losing my husband!”
“Losing your husband?!” Garza hissed back, his professional facade finally cracking. “Brenda, your husband is currently sitting in a VIP room at the hospital drinking coffee and reviewing corporate audits with federal investigators! He is alive, Brenda! You didn't bury a corpse; you tried to bury a living man who is now testifying against you with an army of federal agents backing him up!”
Brenda’s jaw dropped. She grabbed the iron bars so tightly her knuckles turned white. “He’s... he’s awake? He talked to them?”
“He talked to everyone,” Garza said, shaking his head slowly. “And to make matters worse, your uncle—Dr. Navarro—just confessed to the medical board and the police. He admitted you paid him four hundred thousand pesos to falsify the death certificate and administer the paralytic compound during your ‘anniversary dinner.’”
Brenda staggered backward, her legs giving out beneath her. She sank down onto the concrete bench, staring blankly at the cold floor.
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“It’s over,” Garza muttered, standing up and packing his briefcase. “Unless you have a miracle up your sleeve, I suggest you start cooperating with the district attorney. Because right now, the only thing keeping you from spending the rest of your life in a maximum-security federal penitentiary is a miraculous plea deal—and even that is a long shot.”
As Garza turned and walked away, the heavy metal door clanked shut behind him, leaving Brenda alone in the dark cell with the crushing weight of her own ruin.
