Chapter 20: Hunting the Huntress

The email with the false accusation leaked at dawn.

First, it was an anonymous Twitter account that posted it, then a dubious blog, and finally, some digital news sites replicated it as if it were an established truth: "Former collaborator accuses Amelia of manipulating testimonies."

The headline was sensationalist. The text, worse. No proof, just insinuations. No name, no face, no voice. Just “a source close to the case” claiming to have been pressured into lying.

Amelia read it on an empty stomach. Laura read it with rage.

—How dare they? —she growled—. This wouldn’t hold up in any courtroom!

—They’re not trying to hold it up —Amelia replied softly—. They just want to smear. Muddy the waters. If they cover me in dirt, even if it's lies, they’ll make people doubt. Wear down everything we’ve built.

Carlos called three minutes after the article went viral.

—We’ve confirmed it: the IP of the leaked document matches a company linked to Rodrigo Méndez. They’re desperate, Amelia. Which means you’re doing something right.

Amelia exhaled through her nose. The pressure in her chest was real, like carrying stones inside her.

—What do we do?

Carlos was direct.

—We’ll sue for defamation. But we’re also taking another approach: the emotional one. You’re going to speak again. This time, with everything. Not just about Diego. Not just about the judges. You’ll talk about what it’s like to live in fear every day since this began.

—Won’t they see me as weak?

—Quite the opposite. They’ll see you as human. And if anyone still doubts you, it won’t be because you lacked courage.

Laura nodded firmly.

—And we’ll be right beside you.

That night, Amelia sat in front of the camera. No makeup artists, no soft lighting. Her face was tired, dark circles under her eyes, red from reading hateful messages. But when she started speaking, her voice didn’t shake.

—Today another lie was published. A faceless accusation, without evidence, without soul. They say I manipulate. That I pressure. That I lie. And today, after everything I’ve lived, I’m not surprised. What hurts is that they do it from the shadows. That they choose darkness to stain what I’ve shown in the light since day one.

A pause. A breath.

—Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day wondering if your story will be erased by a better-written lie? What it’s like to live knowing the man who destroyed you still has the power to do it again with just a snap of his fingers?

Another pause. Longer this time.

—But I’m still here. Not for revenge. But for the other women who also signed without knowing. Who also stayed silent to keep a family intact. Who also survived. For them—and for myself—I won’t be silent. Never again.

The video went viral. In less than four hours, it had been shared over 30,000 times. The hashtag #IBelieveAmelia appeared across platforms. Actresses, activists, journalists, even international figures joined in with messages of support.

But the most unexpected reaction came the next day.

Sofía Torres, the journalist who had followed the case from the beginning, published a scathing column:

"When power is afraid, it creates monsters. But Amelia cannot be destroyed by a faceless accusation, because her story has already been told—with her soul. And the truth cannot be erased with dirty ink."

Amelia read those words sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, eyes fixed on the screen. She didn’t cry. But she felt less alone.

Carlos sent another message:

—Their shot backfired. And one more thing: the interim prosecutor has been appointed. It’s not who we expected… but he’s not corrupt either. His name is Julián Rivas. And I hear he’s willing to review the case.

Amelia raised her head.

—He was on the phantom contracts case, right?

—Exactly. He’s not perfect, but he’s got a record. Not easily bent.

—Then it’s time.

Laura looked at her.

—Time for what?

—Time to move what’s left.

Elías, the former employee at Inversiones Cordillera, finally agreed to give an official statement. Amelia accompanied him to the prosecutor’s office entrance, though she couldn’t go in with him.

—Are you sure? —she asked.

The young man nodded nervously.

—I’ve been sure since I heard your first video. But now... now I’m even more so.

He went in without looking back.

Hours later, his testimony was leaked. Not by accident. By strategy.

He revealed how the fake invoices were approved with codes only Diego knew. How funds were funneled to non-existent companies. And, most importantly, how Rodrigo Méndez’s name appeared in emails discussing “ministerial favors.”

It was the missing piece.

That very night, the prosecutor's office officially requested an investigation into Rodrigo. It wasn’t a direct accusation, but it was a visible step.

The net was closing.

Diego found out from his home, surrounded by lawyers and whiskey. He screamed, threw papers, threatened to sue everyone. But deep down, he knew it was over.

—They can’t do this to me! They can’t!

His lawyer, tired, replied without raising his voice.

—They can. Because you did it. And because she’s not afraid anymore.

The next day, Amelia received a message from Julián Rivas, the new prosecutor.

—I'd like to speak with you. Formally. I want to hear how it all began. From the start. No cameras. No press. Just you and me.

Amelia hesitated for a few seconds, then replied yes.

The meeting was in a small room. No cameras. Just a recorder on and two bottles of water on the table.

Rivas listened for over two hours.

He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t judge. Just took notes and nodded occasionally.

When Amelia finished, he leaned back in his chair and looked at her closely.

—Do you know why I’m here?

—No.

—Because I also had a mother like you. Who signed things out of fear. Who stayed silent to protect. And when she finally spoke, no one believed her. Until it was too late.

Amelia felt a tightness in her chest.

—I won’t let that happen again.

—Thank you —she whispered.

—Don’t thank me yet —said Rivas—. This is going to hurt more before it gets better.

Amelia nodded.

—I’m ready.

She walked out of the prosecutor’s office with a steady face. There was no victory. Not yet. But there was something more powerful: determination.

And this time, no one could take that from her.