Chapter 9 - THE BOARDROOM WAR
Diego returned to Mexico City before sunrise.
Marisol wanted to accompany him.
He refused only because Valentina had finally slept through the night.
“This battle doesn’t need both her parents leaving at once.”
Marisol noticed the phrase.
Her parents.
Not her mother and the billionaire.
Her parents.
She nodded.
“Call me when it’s done.”
“I will.”
The boardroom occupied the forty-eighth floor of Villaseñor Tower.
Diego entered at 8:55.
Rafael sat at the opposite end.
Eleven directors surrounded the polished table.
Santiago placed files beside Diego.
The vote required seven members.
Rafael believed he had eight.
The chairman opened proceedings.
Diego interrupted.
“Before we vote, I have a conflict disclosure.”
Rafael frowned.
Diego distributed documents.
They showed the five-million-peso payment linked to Paulina.
The illegal purchase of Nicolás’s confidential medical records.
The misuse of foundation funds.
One director turned toward Rafael.
“Did you authorize her foundation access?”
“Yes.”
“Did you supervise it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Rafael’s jaw tightened.
“She was joining the family.”
Diego leaned forward.
“She was joining a board committee.”
“Not inheriting a treasury.”
The directors began arguing.
Rafael accused Diego of distracting from the issue of leadership.
Diego surprised everyone.
“I agree.”
Silence.
He stood.
“This company should not be run as a family monarchy.”
Rafael stared.
Diego continued.
“For decades, Villaseñor family members have treated corporate resources as personal tools.”
“My father used employees to intercept private communications.”
“He used company security to monitor relationships.”
“He used foundation structures to pressure people.”
“And I benefited from a system I rarely questioned.”
Rafael’s expression became furious.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
Diego looked around the table.
“If you remove me today, remove me because I failed the company.”
“Not because I embarrassed the family by acknowledging my daughter.”
One director spoke.
“What are you proposing?”
“Independent governance.”
“Immediate external audit.”
“Separation of family foundation accounts.”
“Removal of Rafael Villaseñor’s unilateral access to corporate security.”
“And?”
Diego paused.
“If the board accepts those reforms, I will voluntarily submit my position to a second vote in six months.”
Rafael stared.
“You would give them the power to remove you?”
“They already should have it.”
That sentence changed the room.
Rafael had built loyalty through dependence.
Diego was offering accountability.
The vote began.
Director one.
Diego.
Director two.
Rafael.
Three.
Diego.
Four.
Rafael.
Five.
Diego.
Six.
Rafael.
Three to three.
The seventh director abstained.
The eighth chose Diego.
The ninth chose Rafael.
Four to four.
Two remained.
Rafael looked confident.
The tenth director had worked with him for twenty years.
“Rafael.”
Five to four.
One final vote.
Lucía Serrano.
Former central-bank attorney.
Independent director.
Rafael had recruited her.
She looked at Diego.
Then Rafael.
“My vote is not for either man.”
Rafael frowned.
“That is not an option.”
“It is now.”
She closed the voting folder.
“I support Diego’s governance proposal.”
“If accepted, I vote to retain him.”
The others murmured.
The chairman called a procedural vote.
Seven directors approved the reforms.
Lucía then cast the final leadership vote.
Diego.
Five to five became six to five because of the chairman’s tie-breaking authority.
Diego survived.
Rafael did not speak.
He stood.
Buttoned his jacket.
Then leaned toward his son.
“You think you won.”
“No.”
Diego gathered his papers.
“I think the company did.”
That answer enraged Rafael more than triumph would have.
Outside the boardroom, Diego called Marisol.
Valentina answered.
“Daddy!”
He smiled immediately.
“Hi, mi amor.”
“Mommy made pancakes.”
“Did she?”
“Rabbit got one.”
Diego laughed.
“Tell Rabbit I’m jealous.”
Marisol came to the phone.
“Well?”
“I’m still employed.”
She exhaled.
“Good.”
“Barely.”
“That still counts.”
“I’m coming back tonight.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
That single word felt like home.
But before Diego could leave the tower, Lucía Serrano asked him to stay.
She closed his office door.
“I voted for reform.”
“Not for your version of the past.”
Diego frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Lucía placed an old corporate memo on his desk.
Four years earlier.
Madrid.
It authorized an extension of Diego’s European assignment.
The signature at the bottom was not Rafael’s.
It belonged to Diego.
“I signed hundreds of papers.”
“This one specifically states you requested the extension.”
Diego stared.
“I never requested it.”
“Then why is your signature there?”
He examined it.
It looked perfect.
Lucía continued.
“If someone forged the future CEO’s authorization, that is serious.”
“Who processed it?”
She pointed to the administrative code.
S.M.
Santiago Mena.
Diego stopped breathing.
Santiago.
His chief of staff.
The man who had been beside him through every stage of the investigation.
The man searching Rafael’s records.
The man with access to everything.
Diego looked through the glass wall.
Santiago stood thirty feet away.
Speaking on the phone.
Calm.
Reliable.
Trusted.
May you like
For fifteen years.
Lucía whispered, “Your father may not be the only person who decided you should stay in Madrid.”
