Chương 2
Lucía’s husband stopped turning the wine bottle in his hands.
Teresa frowned.
“What?”
“The house belongs to Mariana.”
“No.”
“It does.”
“You bought it.”
“No.”
“You told me you bought it.”
“I never told you that.”
“You said you were moving into your house.”
“I said our house.”
Teresa shook her head slowly, rejecting grammar, property records, and reality in one movement.
Then she looked at me.
I saw the exact moment she began recalculating.
Not regretting.
Calculating.
“And the car?”
Alejandro did not answer.
I did.
“The SUV belongs to Ruta Norte.”
She laughed again, but there was no confidence left in it.
“That’s his company.”
“No,” Alejandro said.
Teresa turned.
He swallowed.
“It’s Mariana’s company.”
Lucía whispered something under her breath.
Her husband said, “What?”
“Nothing.”
Teresa looked at me for several seconds.
“You own Ruta Norte?”
“I founded it.”
“That’s impossible.”
It was such an absurd response that I almost smiled.
Instead I lowered the phone.
The recording had captured enough.
Teresa stepped closer.
“Alejandro is vice president.”
“Operations vice president,” I said.
“He works there.”
“For me.”
The words sounded harsher than I intended.
Alejandro flinched.
I regretted it immediately, not because it was false, but because I had used the truth as a weapon against him in front of his family.
That was Teresa’s style.
I did not want it to become mine.
He picked up his jacket from the back of a chair.
“I’m leaving too.”
“Good,” I said.
His face tightened.
Then he nodded.
Lucía moved toward the door.
Teresa stayed where she was.
“This is ridiculous.”
Nobody answered.
She looked around the kitchen as though expecting the walls to support her argument.
Finally she threw both halves of the dress onto the floor.
“You’ve poisoned him.”
I picked them up.
“Leave.”
“You think money makes you important?”
“No.”
“You think owning a company makes you better than us?”
“No.”
“You think because your name is on a paper—”
“Mamá,” Lucía said sharply.
Teresa stopped.
Lucía stood by the doorway with tears in her eyes and anger in her mouth.
“Just stop.”
It was the first genuinely brave thing anyone had done all evening, and it seemed to exhaust her immediately.
Teresa grabbed her handbag.
At the door, she turned toward Alejandro.
“You’re coming with me.”
He put on his jacket.
“I’m going to a hotel.”
Her face changed again.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
“What do you mean, a hotel?”
“I mean I need somewhere to sleep tonight.”
“You can stay with me.”
“No.”
That single word hurt her more than anything I had said.
She walked out without saying goodbye.
The others followed in a confused cluster of coats, apologies, and eyes that would not quite meet mine.
Alejandro remained near the island.
For a while we listened to the front door open and close, then to several voices outside, then to the engine of Lucía’s car.
The refrigerator hummed.
A bowl of limes sat crookedly beside the sink because Teresa had knocked it with her purse earlier.
One lime had rolled onto the floor.
Alejandro bent down and picked it up.
“I should have stopped her.”
“Yes.”
“I should have stopped this years ago.”
“Yes.”
He set the lime back in the bowl.
“You’re going to fire me.”
It was not a question.
I leaned against the counter.
“I don’t know yet.”
He gave a tired laugh.
“You already sent the video to someone.”
My thumb had moved quickly while Teresa shouted.
My attorney, Elena Vázquez, had received the recording first.
Then Daniel, our CFO.
Then HR director Claudia Serrano, with one line beneath it.
Please freeze any discretionary access pending review in the morning.
I had not fired Alejandro.
Not yet.
But months of things I had excused as marriage problems had suddenly become corporate problems too.
His mother had access to a company vehicle through him.
She had attended two supplier events as if representing us.
She had once called one of our regional managers to complain about a driver who blocked her driveway.
I had told myself Alejandro would handle it.
Alejandro always said he would handle it.
“I sent it to people who needed to see it,” I said.
He rubbed his jaw.
“My mother isn’t an employee.”
“No.”
“So why HR?”
“Because you are.”
He looked away.
There it was again.
Fear.
Not surprise.
I straightened.
“What haven’t you told me?”
“Nothing.”
“Alejandro.”
“Nothing about tonight.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
He walked toward the doorway, then stopped.
For several seconds he kept his back to me.
“There are things at work we need to talk about.”
My stomach tightened.
“What things?”
He shook his head.
“Not like this.”
“Then how?”
“Tomorrow.”
I nearly laughed.
After a night like that, tomorrow sounded like a country neither of us was guaranteed to reach intact.
He opened the door.
“Where are you going?”
“The Four Seasons, probably.”
“Take a taxi.”
He looked at me.
“The SUV stays here.”
That landed.
He nodded once.
“Right.”
After he left, I locked the door and stood alone in the kitchen among torn silk, half-filled wineglasses, and food nobody had eaten.
Then my phone buzzed.
It was Daniel.
I expected a question about the video.
Instead his message contained six words.
We need to discuss Alejandro tonight.
I stared at Daniel’s message until the screen dimmed in my hand.
Then I typed, Call me.
He did before I could set the phone down.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is Alejandro with you?”
“No.”
A pause followed, and in it I heard office noise that should not have existed at nearly ten at night.
Keyboard taps.
A printer.
Someone coughing.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“At the office.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to put this in an email.”
My shoulders tightened.
“Daniel.”
“I need you to hear me without jumping to conclusions.”
“That’s a terrible way to begin.”
“I know.”
May you like
He exhaled.
“Two months ago, we started seeing irregular approvals tied to the Toluca expansion.”
