Eric closed the warehouse's metal door and stood still for a few seconds before walking toward his car.
The morning air was cold—
But it wasn't the weather that bothered him.
There was something different about the silence around him.
It wasn't natural.
It was the kind of silence that exists when someone is watching.
He slowly raised his eyes.
Across the street, two cars were parked at different points, about thirty meters apart: a dark sedan and a discreet SUV.
No police logos.
No emergency lights.
Just vehicles that looked too ordinary to be ordinary.
Eric didn't need to think twice.
They were the same ones that had been following him.
Now joined by a third.
He opened the car door calmly, got in, and started the engine.
The low hum broke the stillness of the nearly empty street.
Before pulling away, he checked the rearview mirror again.
No movement.
No attempt to approach.
Just surveillance.
"Lopez…" he muttered.
It wasn't hard to imagine the inspector sitting somewhere, reviewing reports and demanding constant updates on his movements.
Lopez didn't need to arrest him.
Not yet.
Observation was enough.
Observe—
Until a mistake appeared.
Eric drove off with deliberate calm.
No sudden acceleration.
No change of route.
No attempt to lose them.
Running now would only confirm suspicion.
A few blocks later, he stopped at a red light.
The side window reflected the car behind him—
Safe distance.
Engine running.
Two occupants.
Police.
The pursuit was open—
But silent.
When the light turned green, Eric continued.
On the way back to the penthouse, he kept a steady speed.
It felt strange how quickly his life had changed.
Just weeks ago—
He was a struggling student with financial problems and a simple job.
Now—
He was driving through the city under police surveillance—
Carrying the weight of multiple deadly confrontations.
When he parked at the building, he noticed something else.
Another car.
Different.
Parked at the corner.
Likely another observer.
He entered the building, crossed the lobby, and took the private elevator up.
As it ascended slowly, Eric slipped his hand into his pocket—
Touching the gold coins resting there.
Their weight was both comforting—
And unsettling.
When the doors opened, the sound of drills and hammers filled the air.
Renovation.
Workers carried drywall sheets through the hallway.
Others worked near the panoramic windows.
Exposed wiring and scattered tools showed that the penthouse was being heavily modified.
Eric walked through them toward the main room.
Lucía was seated at the table.
In front of her—
Stacks of documents arranged with surgical precision.
Contracts.
Reports.
Bank records.
Legal notes.
She looked up as he entered.
"You took your time."
Eric pulled a chair.
"I went to the warehouse."
She nodded.
"I figured."
What surprised Eric wasn't her words—
But her calm.
After everything—
Invasions.
Deaths.
Interrogations—
Lucía seemed… composed.
"You're too calm," he said.
She closed a report.
"Not calm. Focused."
Then she pointed toward the office door.
"Lock it."
Eric raised an eyebrow—
But obeyed.
When he returned, she was already reorganizing documents.
"You're no longer just a suspect," she said.
Eric tilted his head.
"Then what am I?"
She looked straight at him.
"A pattern."
Silence.
Heavy.
"Your recent actions created something investigators love," she continued.
"Repetition."
She picked up a report.
"Warehouse. Penthouse. Dead mercenaries. You present in both."
Eric leaned back.
"Not exactly by choice."
"The police don't care about that."
She flipped another document.
"To them, you're not just involved."
"You're the only constant."
Eric gave a faint smile.
"I never imagined spending money would be this complicated."
Lucía didn't smile.
"Your problem isn't financial."
She pointed at him with her pen.
"It's narrative."
Eric frowned.
"Narrative?"
"The story they're building about you."
She slid a document toward him.
"If that narrative solidifies…"
"It becomes more dangerous than any armed enemy."
Eric studied the papers.
"And your solution?"
Lucía took a breath.
"First, we fix the gold problem."
Eric crossed his arms.
"I asked the prince to help me get a gold mine."
Lucía almost slammed her pen on the table.
"That's a terrible idea."
"Why?"
"Because a gold mine means environmental licenses, international inspections, investors, audits…"
She leaned forward.
"And if anyone investigates and finds out you started selling gold with no mining history—"
She shook her head.
"It will look like international money laundering."
Eric sighed.
"So what's the solution?"
Lucía opened another file.
"I have two options."
She raised two fingers.
"First: buy a stake in a refinery or precious metals recycling company."
Eric listened carefully.
"These companies receive gold from multiple sources—old jewelry, electronic waste, damaged materials."
She tapped the paper.
"If you become a major investor, you can sell gold to your own company."
Eric nodded slowly.
"And the second?"
"Create a commodities investment fund."
She explained:
"The fund trades physical gold internationally."
She paused.
"If your gold enters that flow…"
"It disappears inside a legitimate financial chain."
Eric stayed silent for a few seconds.
"So the problem isn't producing gold."
"No."
She answered immediately.
"It's justifying where it comes from."
Eric stood and walked toward the panoramic window.
Below—
One of the surveillance cars was still there.
He crossed his arms.
"I was also thinking about buying an island."
Lucía looked up instantly.
"No."
"You didn't even hear the plan."
"Doesn't matter."
She pointed outside.
"An island draws international attention."
She counted on her fingers:
"Government. Media. Investors. Tax authorities."
"You don't want that."
Eric stayed quiet.
Then nodded.
"Maybe a remote mansion."
"Much better."
She agreed.
"Security without headlines."
Eric kept watching the street.
The car was still there.
And for a moment—
He wondered how many eyes were truly watching him.
"Do you think some of the workers could be police?" he asked.
Lucía glanced at the workers.
"Possible."
Eric took a deep breath.
Every decision he made to reduce risk—
Seemed to attract a new kind of danger.
He returned to the table.
"How's Elena?"
Lucía hesitated.
"Working."
"Even after the argument?"
"Yes."
She looked at him.
"Maybe more than before."
Eric placed his hands on the table.
"And you?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"What about me?"
"Why didn't you leave?"
Lucía let out a tired laugh.
"I thought about it."
She leaned back.
"Many times."
"Then why didn't you?"
She paused before answering.
"Because, despite everything…"
"You need me."
She pointed at the documents.
"And I need this."
Eric frowned.
"Money?"
She shook her head.
"Challenge."
She took a breath.
"Your case is the kind of situation that turns average lawyers into exceptional ones."
Eric studied her for a moment.
"So you're staying for professional ambition?"
She smiled faintly.
"Let's just say…"
"I'm staying for the opportunity."
Eric turned back to the window.
The surveillance car was still there.
Still.
Patient.
He exhaled slowly.
The surveillance had only just begun.