"I kissed my wife’s cold forehead inside her coffin… and when I opened her clenched hand, I found a navy-blue button torn off with force. I recognized it immediately. It belonged to my brother Rodrigo’s jacket. My mother went pale and whispered,

The flashing red and blue lights of the federal police cruisers illuminated the night sky.

Valeria Navarro, the proud, arrogant matriarch of the Seville olive empire, was shoved into the back of a police cruiser. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. She was covered in soot, weeping hysterically, begging the officers to let her go, claiming she was a woman of status. The officers simply slammed the door in her face.

Diego was hauled out of the warehouse on a stretcher, coughing up smoke, his jaw wired shut by the paramedics. He was handcuffed to the metal rails of the gurney, under heavy armed guard.

Hector walked over to me, holding a digital audio recorder.

"We got every single word, Mateo," Hector said, clapping a soot-stained hand on my shoulder. "A full, uncoerced confession on tape. Combined with the DNA from the green button and the independent autopsy from Madrid... they are going away forever."

I looked at the burning warehouse, watching the last remnants of my family's corrupt legacy turn to ash.