Patricio decided the first accident had been a tactical mistake.
Not because of the sabotage itself.
But because it had been… too small.
In his mind, molded by years of novels where the hero always comes back stronger after a fall, the conclusion was inevitable:
If the train stopped again, investors would panic.Valmont would lose prestige.And Yue would realize that only he could be a safe haven.
Because in the stories he admired, heroes didn't win by avoiding disaster.
They won by causing it… and then saving the day.
With the newly unlocked resources of the Osbort Family, he chose a more refined method.
Quieter.
Cleaner.
He didn't touch wires.He didn't touch machinery.He didn't touch the project directly.
He only made one call… and the specialized structural steel was held up in customs under a "quality investigation."
A sabotage without explosions.No smoke.No scandal.
Just slow suffocation.
Methodical.
Irreversible.
Or at least, that's what he thought.
Dr. Elena's office smelled of old paper, cold coffee, and worn-out patience.
Adrián Valmont watched from below with an expression that bordered on unreal. He was no longer the shark who signed hostile acquisitions with relentless precision; now he was a man disarmed by effort: sweat beading his forehead, breath echoing in the cabin, muscles straining under the rhythmic punishment of every movement.
Elena scolded him from her position, not allowing the pace to drop for a single second.
—You've missed seven masterclasses, Valmont. Seven —she said, her voice ragged with exertion but laden with an ancient authority.
—I sent the essays —he replied, calm as someone who controls chaos even when his body is at its limit.
—Essays you probably wrote between buying a company and breakfast —she shot back, punishing his arrogance with a deeper movement—. Don't think money buys a grade with me.
Adrián held her tighter, his fingers pressing into her skin with a possessiveness at odds with his light tone.
—Technically —he murmured against her neck, voice vibrating with a mix of exhaustion and mockery—, it was between breakfast and an international merger.
Elena closed her eyes for a second. She moved faster, with a relentless cadence that left no room for witty retorts or cynical comments. It was rhythmic punishment. When she looked at him again, her expression had changed. She was no longer just a frustrated teacher.
She was someone refusing to let this man get out of control—he needed discipline.
When it ended, both exhausted, Elena went to her desk.
—Your thesis is brilliant —she said with surgical coldness—. But brilliance without discipline is just an expensive form of mediocrity.
Adrián smiled faintly.
—Mediocrity rarely trades on the stock market, Doctor.
Elena placed a folder against her chest, pressing him back into the chair, forcing him to meet her gaze.
—You will defend every page. No assistants. No delegating. No buying results.
—Academic punishment?
—Structural correction —she replied.
For a few seconds, neither looked away.
Adrián's phone vibrated on the side table.
He didn't touch it.
Elena did.
—If it's another multimillion-dollar deal, it can wait —she said.
Adrián held her gaze a moment longer before replying softly:
—It probably is.
The vibration continued.
Insistent. Methodical.
Like someone knocking on a door that refuses to be ignored.
Elena sighed, finally stepping aside.
—Answer it. Then back to page two hundred fourteen. That's where your real theoretical problem begins.
Adrián picked up the phone.
He listened for exactly six seconds.
His expression didn't change.
Not a muscle. Not a blink.
He only said:
—I understand.
He hung up. Several matters remained to be discussed.
—The structural steel for the viaduct has been held in customs —Adrián said with the same casualness others use to ask for sugar—. Quality investigation. Osbort subsidiary.
Elena raised an eyebrow.
—Is that serious?
Adrián placed the phone on the table, unhurried.
—Depends —he replied—. For them… probably yes.
He dialed another number.
Meilan answered before the second ring, as if waiting for the call.
—Supply chain, boss. Full retention of specialized steel. The order comes from a ghost audit linked to Osbort.
Silence lasted exactly as long as it took Adrián to exhale.
Then he smiled.
Slowly.Precisely.Dangerously satisfied.
—Excellent.
Elena frowned.
—Your project just suffered sabotage, and you're… happy.
Adrián laced his fingers on the table.
—Doctor, in my world, well-documented disasters are usually extraordinary investments.
He lifted the phone again.
—Activate the Loss of Profit clause for Malicious Interference —he ordered—. I want independent assessment and notarized documentation of the logistical blockade. And make sure the assessor sees every link between that subsidiary… and our chief engineer's husband.
—Understood —Meilan replied—. The insurer was already nervous after the first incident. This will make them react fast.
—Perfect. Let them react expensively.
He hung up.
Elena watched silently, studying how he solved a million-euro problem… as if it were nothing.
—Valmont… —she finally said—. Sometimes I don't know if you're a prodigy… or a moral warning.
Adrián opened his thesis notebook to the marked page, as if finishing a trivial conversation.
—I can be both —he replied—. Complex systems usually are.
He slid the pen toward her.
—Shall we continue on page two hundred fourteen? —he asked, circling her waist gently.
Patricio intended to cause panic.
What he caused… was profit.
The insurer acted with the speed of an entity unafraid to lose money, because it knew exactly how to recover it.
In less than ten days:
The project was declared of strategic interest.
Extraordinary compensation was authorized.
The Valmont Group received 110% of the operational delay value.
The stopped train generated more profit than the running train.
But the truly devastating part came later.
Subrogation.
By paying the compensation, the insurer acquired the legal right to pursue the saboteur.
Adrián was no longer the enemy.
Now the enemy was an insurance corporation with five hundred lawyers, jurisdiction on three continents… and infinite patience.
Patricio had just signed his own sentence without realizing it.
The rain didn't fall.
It crushed.
The viaduct rose from the darkness like the skeleton of a dead beast, lit by industrial floodlights that turned the mud into a gray mirror nobody wanted to see themselves in.
Yue walked among the construction teams, helmet failing to protect anything.
Thirty-six hours without sleep.Three meetings with regulators.Two calls from the board asking if she was still "reliable."Zero responses that could save her name.
She knew the truth.
The project would survive.
She would not.
An alternative shipment of steel descended from a private transport, paid with funds that weren't hers. Every beam unloaded was silent confirmation:
Valmont could replace materials.Valmont could replace time.Valmont could replace engineers.
The wind drove rain against her face. She didn't wipe it.
It wasn't worth it.
A shadow stopped beside her.
She didn't hear footsteps.
She only felt the rain stop hitting her head.
A black umbrella opened above her.
Meilan held it with the elegant precision of someone executing an order that needs no explanation.
Adrián watched the work with his hands in his coat pockets, studying the incomplete structure as if evaluating an investment he had already decided to close.
—The structure will hold —he finally said—. Your calculations were correct.
Yue paused for a few seconds.
—It doesn't matter.
He looked at her for the first time.
—She's right.
The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was definitive.