Chapter 19 - The emergency summit
By eight o’clock the next morning, the grand marble boardroom of the Superior Commercial Court was packed with high-profile attorneys, bank executives, and state magistrates. The Morales family crisis had leaked to the national press, and satellite broadcast vans lined the avenue outside like vultures waiting for a carcass.
Lucía sat at the primary plaintiff table beside Alejandro and Doña Esperanza. Her mother sat rigidly upright, her trembling hands hidden beneath a tailored black cape, her eyes fixed forward with the dignity of an empress who refused to bend.
Across the polished mahogany aisle sat the opposing counsel—six of the country's most ruthless corporate litigators. And in the center of their table sat the man calling himself Don Roberto Morales.
He was the spitting image of their late father. The same aristocratic nose, the same silver-streaked hair, the same cold, calculating eyes. He wore a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, his hands folded calmly over a leather brief. On his left finger, the obsidian signet ring gleamed under the chandeliers.
Judge Alvarez struck his heavy gavel, calling the packed room to dead silence.
"We are convened in emergency session to examine the petition of Don Roberto Morales regarding the annulment of estate probate and the immediate restitution of executive authority over the Morales Trust," the judge announced, reviewing the massive stack of affidavits. "The petitioner has submitted dental records, biometric blood typing matching the late nineteen ninety-eight registry, and three notarized sworn statements from international physicians certifying his identity."
Vicente’s chief counsel rose to his feet, bowing slightly to the bench. "Your Honor, our client has endured decades of tragic amnesia following an catastrophic aviation crash. The science is incontrovertible. His blood profile, dental matches, and private journals prove beyond all reasonable doubt that the rightful head of the Morales family sits before you today. We demand the immediate expulsion of the impostor Lucía and the freezing of all transfers authorized by Señora Esperanza."
The gallery murmured with electric tension. Reporters scribbled frantically on their pads.
Judge Alvarez turned his stern gaze toward the Morales table. "Does the defense have any scientific or legal basis to challenge the petitioner's biometric claims?"
Alejandro stood up, his jaw set, preparing to deliver the arguments they had scrambled together overnight.
"Wait," Lucía whispered, placing her hand gently over her brother’s wrist.
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She stood up herself. The entire courtroom fell instantly silent. The former maid, now standing in an impeccably tailored navy suit, looked across the aisle directly into the eyes of the man who had stolen twenty-five years of her life.
"Your Honor," Lucía spoke, her clear, melodious voice ringing through the high-ceilinged chamber without a single tremor. "Before this court rules on dental records and blood types that can be falsified by millions of stolen dollars... there is one physical fact about Don Roberto Morales that cannot be replicated."
