Chapter 22: The Hunt Begins

Chapter 22: The Hunt Begins

During the first two days after Diego’s escape, the world seemed to breathe more slowly. It was a heavy, artificial silence—the kind that comes just before the storm. No one said much. Not the media. Not the authorities. Not even Amelia’s allies.

Because no one really knew what it meant that Diego had disappeared.

—“There are no migration records. No activity on his bank accounts. Nothing on his credit cards,” Carlos reported via video call, looking exhausted and hollow-eyed. “The only lead we have is that he withdrew cash a week before vanishing. Large amounts. From different ATMs. It’s clear this was premeditated.”

Amelia listened in silence, sitting in front of the laptop. Laura paced across the living room like a caged animal.

—“And nobody helped him, right?” she asked sarcastically. “Because sure, a man under investigation for corruption just vanishes like a magic trick.”

Carlos ignored the comment.

—“There’s one possibility: he’s in an unregistered property, outside the country but still within Latin America. There are places where, with enough money, you can disappear without much effort. Nicaragua. Venezuela. Some areas in Bolivia. And if he left by private plane from a rural estate, he wouldn’t have passed through official checkpoints.”

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment.

—“Then we won’t find him.”

—“Yes, we will,” Carlos replied firmly. “Maybe not today. But Diego can’t move freely anymore. He can’t show his face. He can’t appear without fear. He may be alive, but he’s not free.”

Laura stopped abruptly.

—“What if he starts operating from there? Manipulating people, moving his contacts, causing noise from afar?”

Carlos nodded.

—“It’s possible. That’s why we need to go after the only thing protecting him from exile: his image. His reputation. The myth of Diego Morales, the respectable businessman. That’s what shields him. If we strip that away... he has no power left.”

That night, Amelia once again sat in front of a camera. It had become almost a habit. But this time, she didn’t prepare a script. She simply spoke.

—“Diego Morales has disappeared. And with him, the mask he wore for years to hide what he really is: a predator in a suit. Today, we can’t find him. But we can make sure the world sees him for what he is. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

She detailed, for the first time publicly, private moments. Not just documents. Not just signatures. She spoke of nights when Diego manipulated her with poisoned sweetness. Of days when he pretended to listen, only to dismantle her afterward. Of how he slowly isolated her, until her voice sounded weak even to herself.

She didn’t cry. She spoke with words that struck like blows.

—“The most dangerous power isn’t economic. It’s emotional. The kind that makes you believe you’re crazy, that you’re worthless, that everything is your fault. And Diego was a master at that.”

The video was shared millions of times. In less than 24 hours, Amelia was invited to international interviews. She became a symbol. A reference.

But with fame came something else.

A new threat.

The email arrived two days later. No subject. No sender.

It simply read:
“We know where you are. This isn’t over. Protect what you love most.”

Laura read it aloud and fell silent.

—“Do you think it was him?” she asked.

Amelia nodded slowly.

—“Or someone still working for him. Someone close.”

Carlos, alerted immediately, responded without delay.

—“We’re moving you. You can’t stay there. We’ll arrange temporary protection. I have a contact in the prosecutor’s office who can expedite it.”

—“I don’t want to hide anymore,” Amelia replied.

Carlos grew impatient.

—“This isn’t weakness, Amelia. It’s precaution. This is no longer just a media war. Diego is cornered. That makes him unpredictable.”

Amelia lowered her gaze. She knew he was right. But she also knew that fleeing meant giving ground.

—“Fine. But only for a few days. I won’t disappear. And I won’t be silenced.”

They were moved to a safe house, guarded by two discreet agents. It wasn’t a bunker, but it was secure, with restricted access and a confidential location.

There, Amelia spent hours rereading her own case file. Every signature. Every transaction. Every step that had led her here. She searched for gaps. Mistakes. Anything that could be strengthened.

Laura, for her part, investigated the most common routes for illegal escapes. She was obsessed.

—“He must’ve left by air. But he might’ve also paid an armed group to cross by land. There are many routes if you know who to pay.”

—“We can’t cover them all,” said Amelia.

—“But we can make noise on every one. If we force him to hide deeper, he’ll make mistakes.”

A week later, investigative journalist Alejandra Pino published a damning exposé:

“Diego Morales’ Safehouses: The Hidden Properties of an Empire.”

In it, she revealed over twelve plots of land, houses, apartments, and businesses linked to Diego—not under his name, but owned by third parties connected to him. All located across Central America and the Caribbean.

One property drew particular attention.

A ranch in Panama, near the Costa Rican border, acquired by a shell company six months earlier.

—“It’s very possible he’s there,” Carlos said. “But we have no direct jurisdiction. We’d need to request international cooperation. That could take weeks.”

Amelia rose from the couch, her eyes blazing.

—“Then we won’t wait.”

—“What are you going to do?”

She didn’t answer. She simply grabbed her phone and sent a message.

The next day, she gave an exclusive interview to an international news outlet.

There, with a steady voice, she said:

—“If Diego Morales thinks he can hide in Panama, Venezuela, or any other country, I want him to know this: we’re going to find him. And the whole world will know he’s a fugitive, a coward, a man who used his power to destroy lives. No matter how much money he has. The truth will catch him.”

And it did.

Three days later, a Panamanian news outlet published exclusive photos.

A tall man, wearing dark glasses, entering a ranch guarded by private security. His face partially covered. But the body, posture, gestures… they were unmistakably Diego’s.

Social media erupted.

The public pressure was so overwhelming that the Panamanian government was forced to react.

Within hours, the Panamanian prosecutor’s office announced it would open an investigation for possible concealment of an internationally wanted person.

And Amelia, from her guarded safehouse, smiled for the first time in weeks.

—“We’ve got you, Diego,” she whispered.

But the hunt wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.