The roar of motorcycles shattered the silence on the road leading to the Nápoles estate, a vast land filled with mansions, exotic animals, and a history marked by power and violence. Leading the way was Gustavo Márquez Escobar, accompanied by his two lieutenants: Mateo, a 17-year-old boy, and José, alias "El Tigre," 18 years old. Behind them, eight more motorcyclists completed the caravan, all riding their Kawasaki GPZ 750s — fast and menacing machines.
Upon arrival, they were greeted at the entrance by Gustavo Gaviria, Gustavo's uncle, whose warm smile contrasted with the imposing presence of the estate. The place was steeped in memories and echoes of the past, but it also symbolized an empire now passing to a new generation.
"Welcome, son," Gaviria said, hugging Gustavo affectionately. "Here, you will always be family."
As the young men settled in, a less welcoming figure appeared: Fabio, Pablo Escobar's brother-in-law, whose bloodshot eyes and hostile attitude revealed the ravages of his cocaine addiction. His gaze fixed on Gustavo with obvious disdain.
"And who are you?" he growled. "I don't want any new trash on this estate."
"I'm Gustavo, Pablo's eldest son," Gustavo replied firmly.
Fabio frowned, his voice a veiled threat.
"You're a nuisance I never expected to see here."
Gaviria intervened, his tone conciliatory.
"Let it be, Fabio. This boy is family, and he will have his place here."
The tension hung in the air, but Gustavo remained calm, knowing this was just the first battle on his path to control.
"Uncle, I need your help organizing the estate and preparing the boys," he asked.
"We start tomorrow," Gaviria assured him. "Nápoles will be your base for what's coming."
The sun set behind the horizon, and the Nápoles estate was cloaked in shadows, while inside, the beginning of a new chapter in the Escobar legacy was being forged.
The main mansion of the Nápoles estate was bathed in a nearly solemn twilight. Pablo Escobar sat in his office, a room filled with maps, documents, and photos that testified to his power. Opposite him stood his son Gustavo Márquez, posture firm and gaze resolute, while at his side waited his lieutenants and several trusted men.
"Son," Pablo began, his voice deep. "I know you want to go to Santa Marta, but you don't fully understand yet. Here, by my side, you have a secure place. I offer you a position in my organization — a place of power and respect."
Gustavo looked at him without hesitation.
"Father, I appreciate the offer, but it's not what I want. I want to build my own path, not live in anyone's shadow. Santa Marta is my destiny."
Pablo clenched his jaw, sensing the unwavering refusal.
"If you insist…" he said with a mix of resignation and determination, "I'll give you the men you grew up with. Twenty loyal, strong, and prepared young men to protect you."
With a gesture, one of his men called the soldiers, who entered the room with firm steps. They were a group of twenty hardened men, with the bearing of those who had survived the streets and battles.
Then, Pablo took out a briefcase and placed it on the table, opening it to reveal five million dollars in neatly stacked bills.
"This is for you to start. Use this money wisely."
Before Gustavo could thank him, the door slammed open and Gustavo Gaviria entered, carrying another five million in his hand.
"Here you go, nephew," he said, extending the briefcase. "So your project doesn't fail."
At that moment, Fabio, Pablo's brother-in-law, staggered in. His eyes fixed on the briefcases, then on Gustavo.
"That's too much money for a bastard son of a sick whore!" he shouted, voice rough and full of hatred. "Disrespect to your mother."
Silence fell like a heavy blow in the room. Gustavo's figure tensed, his eyes filled with contained fury. The only person he had ever loved and respected was his mother, and that insult could not go unanswered.
In an instant, Gustavo stepped forward and grabbed Fabio by the shirt, his voice cold and firm.
"Watch what you say. I won't allow you to speak like that about her."
Fabio tried to break free, but Gustavo used all his martial arts training to quickly and efficiently subdue him.
First, he applied a jiu-jitsu sweep that knocked Fabio to the ground, then used krav maga techniques to control his arms and prevent him from defending himself. With precise boxing strikes and karate moves, he kept Fabio immobilized while whispering low and threatening:
"Don't make me say it again. Respect my mother, or this will be just the beginning."
Those present watched with a mix of astonishment and respect. Pablo, silent, observed with a mixture of pride and concern.
Finally, Gustavo released Fabio, who gasped on the floor, humiliated and defeated.
"Now, if you have nothing more to say, leave," Gustavo sentenced.
Fabio slowly got up, said nothing more, and left the room with his tail between his legs.
Pablo stood and put a hand on Gustavo's shoulder.
"You've shown you have the family's character," he said with a tired smile. "But remember, the path you choose is dangerous."
"I know," Gustavo replied. "And I'm ready to face it."
Night fell over Nápoles, while Pablo Escobar's eldest son began to carve his own path, with loyalties won by iron will and a firm fist.