The Dela

Prologue

A year earlier... São Paulo, Brazil

Lauren

I step down from the elevator, bound for the coverage of my longtime business partner, Alejandro Cabello.  My steps are long and irritated down the hall, my lawyer and personal friend, Allyson, is beside me and the security guards a little further behind.  Alejandro manages one of the branches of LJ, my family's airline.  The air taxi, connecting Greater São Paulo to cities in the interior of the state and beyond, marked the company's first steps in the 1980s. My father, Michael Jauregui and his brother, both American pilots, were the founders.  The company has grown and expanded visibly in recent decades, however, we kept the initial branch, considering that our clientele, composed basically of senior executives, remained loyal over the years and the crises in the air transport sector in Brazil.  Ever since I took over as chairman of the group ten years ago, I've blindly trusted Alejandro's competence to manage the air taxi for me.  A growl catches in my throat.  I respected the damn man so much!

This all fell apart last month when I received a bomb report in my office, disproving everything I believed about its integrity and honesty.  In fact, the flea settled behind my ear a year ago, when my finance directors began noticing fluctuations in the financial statements presented by Alejandro and his team.  I hired an auditing firm without making any fuss and, totally circumventing the law – I'm not ashamed to say – I also hired a hacker specialized in breaking into bank accounts.  The result was the report completed last month.  The document clearly shows the disappearance of large sums progressively over five years.  And the hacker showed where the money went: two accounts in Switzerland, in the name of my faithful employee.  I ironize you.

Five fucking years!  How did I not notice this before?  I only found out because he made a common mistake in thieves, was being swallowed by greed and began to steal indiscriminately, until he could no longer cover his tracks.  I'm really, really pissed off, especially because I'm not used to fooling myself with people's characters.  I can usually read everything and everyone well.  I'm suspicious of my own shadow, so you have an idea.  Growing up in a wealthy family helps us keep a closer look at everything around us.  People, all of them, without exception, always want something from you.  Some will say it's a cynical view of life.  I don't care about your opinions, though.

We reach the apartment door and Allyson immediately rings the doorbell.  I didn't want to identify myself at the lobby and take the private elevator.  No, I wanted to surprise my old friend.  He has no idea that I've been aware of his antics for a month now.  Why didn't I confront him before, you ask me?  I don't like acting in the heat of the moment.  To be honest, I'm known in business circles as the Ice Woman and the title doesn't bother me one bit.  I like to be feared.  It is good that they fear me.  Nobody builds, or in my case, maintains a wealth of billions by being nice.  You will regret having betrayed my trust.  When the man knows what I've prepared for him and his family, he'll fuss and beg for mercy.  I won't have any.  None.

“Are you sure about that, Lauren?  Allyson asks me in a strained voice.  She doesn't always approve of my methods, however, she's not paid to argue with me, she's paid to help me get everything within the law.

“I'm not a woman to go back, Allyson, you know that.  I reply impatiently.

“It's fucking immoral.  Her voice lowers as her brown gaze fixes me with a lawyer's concern, but first of all a friend's.

“Immoral is what he is,” I growl, pointing to the closed door.  — did to me, the fuck.

She sighs in exasperation and the door starts to open.  Our attention being taken to the duly uniformed girl who attends us.