Chapter 6
1104 Words
The morning broke gray and heavy, a low blanket of clouds hanging over Monterrey.
Jorge had barely slept. The photo from the gala sat in his mind like a loaded gun, its implications gnawing at him. Mendez wasn’t just playing political chess—he was playing for humiliation.
By midmorning, his suspicions were confirmed.
The call came from Emilio.
“They did it, Jorge,” Emilio said, his voice trembling. “They’ve shut down the entire project site.”
“What do you mean shut down?” Jorge demanded.
“I mean the gates are locked, security’s been replaced with Ministry guards, and there’s an official notice plastered across the entrance—signed by Mendez himself. They’re calling it an ‘emergency compliance intervention.’ My workers are standing outside like beggars!”
Jorge felt his jaw tighten. “I’m on my way. Stay put.”
---
When he arrived at the site, the air was thick with tension. Dozens of workers in hard hats stood around in small clusters, muttering angrily. A white Ministry SUV was parked across the main entrance, two uniformed officers leaning against it like watch dogs.
The notice on the gate was written in formal, menacing legalese—allegations of “unapproved materials,” “risk to public safety,” and “fraudulent certification of structural components.” The language was designed to sound damning while saying nothing concrete.
Emilio was pacing near the perimeter, his face pale. “He’s trying to bury me alive, Jorge. You know how fast word travels in this industry. By tomorrow, every contractor in the north will think I’m a criminal.”
Jorge scanned the site, his mind racing. “We need to hit back—fast. If we let this narrative set, we’re finished before we even get to court.”
“How?” Emilio asked bitterly. “He’s the Ministry. He controls the inspectors, the permits, the media—”
“Not all of the media,” Jorge interrupted, pulling out his phone.
---
By noon, a young reporter from El Norte, Valeria Soto, was on-site with a cameraman. Jorge knew she had a taste for political scandal—and she owed him a favor from a corruption case he’d tipped her to last year.
“Valeria,” Jorge said as she arrived, “I’ve got something you’ll want to see. The Ministry is shutting down a legitimate project without due process. My client’s permits are in order, yet they’ve bypassed every standard procedure to make it look like he’s guilty.”
Valeria’s sharp eyes swept over the scene. “And you’re saying Mendez Fuentes is behind this?”
“I’m saying the Director has a personal vendetta against Emilio Rodriguez,” Jorge said carefully. “And I’m prepared to give you proof, on record, if necessary.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bold statement.”
“It’s a bold abuse of power,” Jorge replied. “You want your headline? Here it is: ‘Director Mendez Uses Ministry to Crush Rival.’”
---
While Valeria began filming, Jorge noticed movement near the Ministry SUV. A tall man in a gray suit—one of Mendez’s aides—was speaking urgently into a phone, glancing in their direction.
Within minutes, a black luxury sedan rolled up, and out stepped Mendez himself.
His expression was the picture of official indignation.
“Señor Benitez,” he said coolly, “what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Ensuring the public sees how you operate,” Jorge replied, stepping forward. “You’re shutting down a lawful project based on fabricated claims.”
Mendez’s eyes flicked to the camera crew. “This is an active compliance investigation. Any interference will be noted in the legal record.”
“And so will your abuse of authority,” Jorge shot back. “If you have evidence of wrongdoing, present it in court. Until then, you have no right to destroy a man’s livelihood on your personal whim.”
A muscle twitched in Mendez’s jaw. “Careful, Benitez. You’re already in dangerous territory.”
“I live in dangerous territory,” Jorge said, his voice low. “And I’m not leaving until you remove that shutdown order.”
---
The standoff played out under the unblinking eye of Valeria’s camera. Workers gathered closer, their murmurs growing into open chants:
“Queremos trabajar! Queremos trabajar!” — We want to work!
Mendez’s face darkened. He turned sharply and strode back to his car, the SUV pulling away seconds later. But the shutdown notice stayed on the gate.
Jorge knew he hadn’t won—he’d only forced Mendez into a public scene. And in politics, humiliation could be just as dangerous as defeat.
---
That evening, Valeria’s piece aired on the evening news. The footage was damning—Mendez arriving at the site, refusing to answer direct questions, workers chanting against the shutdown. The headline splashed across the screen:
“Director Under Fire: Workers Protest Sudden Ministry Shutdown.”
Emilio watched from his living room, his hands shaking. “You think this will help?” he asked Jorge.
“It’ll put him on the defensive,” Jorge replied. “But don’t expect him to roll over. If anything, this will make him strike harder.”
---
And Mendez did.
The next morning, Emilio woke to find his personal bank accounts frozen under a Ministry-issued “asset protection order” pending investigation. By noon, two uniformed officers arrived at his office with a search warrant.
They seized blueprints, invoices, computers—anything that could be twisted into evidence.
Cynthia stood in the doorway as they carried out boxes. “This is madness,” she whispered to Jorge. “They’re treating us like criminals.”
Jorge placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Madness, yes. But not without method. Mendez is trying to push you into a mistake—panic, rash decisions, something he can use.”
She swallowed hard. “And if he doesn’t stop?”
Jorge’s eyes narrowed. “Then we take the fight to court. And this time, we bring everything—every document, every witness, every skeleton in his closet.”
---
That night, Jorge sat in his office, reviewing the case files.
The list he’d written at the café days ago still lay open on his desk. He picked up his pen and added a fifth line:
5. Expose Mendez publicly before the Ministry hearing.
Because if there was one thing Jorge Benitez knew, it was that men like Mendez feared exposure more than defeat.
And now, the game was about to get uglier.
- Writer
