Chapter 3 - The Woman My Husband Never Knew
Alejandro called his father immediately.
Federico did not answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Beatriz reached for her purse. “We should go.”
“No,” Alejandro said.
His mother froze.
It was the first time I had ever heard him use that tone with her.
“I want to know why Dad was inside Vanguardia at two in the morning.”
Beatriz’s lips thinned. “This is not the place.”
“It became the place when his ring appeared on that camera.”
My father looked at Mariana. “Freeze every credential connected to Camila and Federico. Preserve the logs. No deletions. No internal calls without recording.”
Then he looked at me.
“Valeria, you should not be in the next part of this.”
I almost laughed.
“I spent three years being told I was not part of things that were happening around me. I’m done with that.”
Dad held my gaze.
Then he nodded once.
“Fair.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
STOP LETTING MEN EXPLAIN ME TO YOU.
A second message appeared before I could respond.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY I WAS REALLY INSIDE VANGUARDIA, COME ALONE.
An address followed.
A café in Polanco.
Camila.
I showed Dad.
“Absolutely not,” he said.
“I agree,” Alejandro said.
I looked at him. “You no longer get a vote.”
His face tightened, but he said nothing.
I did not go alone.
I took Vanguardia security, but I made them wait outside.
Camila was already seated in the back corner when I arrived. No burgundy dress. No diamonds. Jeans, a black sweater, hair pulled into a knot.
Without the performance, she looked younger.
And more tired.
The bracelet was gone.
“Sit,” she said.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“Then stand. I don’t care.”
I sat.
She pushed a folder across the table.
“You think I’m the villain because that’s emotionally convenient.”
“You slept with my husband.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No flinch.
“And yesterday you tried to humiliate me in public.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a point?”
Her eyes met mine. “I was hired to find out whether De la Vega’s financing package was fraudulent. It is.”
“How fraudulent?”
“Enough to put people in prison.”
I opened the folder.
Duplicated contractor invoices.
Presold units listed twice.
Land parcels pledged to more than one lender.
Millions moving through three shell companies.
One name kept appearing.
Lirio Azul Holdings.
“Who owns it?”
“Nobody obvious.”
“Then why show me?”
“Because Ignacio stopped caring about the fraud six months ago. He started caring about getting the deal approved.”
I looked up.
“He changed sides?”
“He changed goals.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Convenient.”
Camila leaned forward. “You want honesty? Fine. I got too close to Alejandro. I liked him. He liked being admired. We crossed a line. Then we kept crossing it.”
My throat tightened, but I refused to look away.
“That has nothing to do with Ignacio.”
“No. It has everything to do with what happened after. Federico discovered who I was. Instead of exposing me, he offered me money to keep feeding Ignacio information. Ignacio already knew.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
She slid one photograph from the folder.
My father, Ignacio, Federico, and a woman I recognized immediately.
My mother.
Lucía García Mendoza.
The date printed at the bottom was twelve years old.
Three weeks before my mother died in a plane crash.
On the back, someone had written two words in black ink.
SANTA LUCÍA.
Camila watched my face.
“If you think Ignacio hired me because of Alejandro,” she said quietly, “ask your father what Project Santa Lucía was.”
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