Ximena sat in the quiet of her private conference room, the city stretching behind her in shimmering silver towers. On the long glass table in front of her were a series of folders—marked, signed, finalized.Twelve per cent.Her team had done it.Twelve percent of **Ricardo Enterprises**, now quietly in her control through shell companies, dummy accounts, and shadowed investors. She didn’t need to shout about it.She only needed Miguel to feel it.Rafael stood near the screen, arms crossed, expression tense.“This is going to provoke him,” he said.Ximena didn’t look up from the contract she was reviewing.“It’s not provocation,” she replied calmly. “It’s strategy.”Rafael stepped closer. “You know what I mean. He’s going to hit back harder. Miguel doesn’t let go quietly.”“He started this war,” she said, finally looking at him. “I’m just finishing it.”He watched her for a moment, then asked, “What’s the next move?”She stood, walked to the whiteboard, and circled a name.**RicardoTe
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