“No, Dad,” I corrected him, savoring each syllable for the first time. “They bought my company, and now I’m going to head their technology division.”
The silence fell like a punch in the stomach.
Salas picked up my suitcase and put it on the truck. I walked away without looking back, but before getting in, I took a quick look.
“Sorry for the noise,” I said. “I hope it doesn't spoil the mood for Mauricio.”
I sat down on the leather seat and the door slammed shut. As we pulled away from the gated community, the captain handed me a folder containing the deed to a secure penthouse in Santa Fe and a handwritten invitation from General Zúñiga.
Private dinner. 8:00 PM.
Below was the guest list.
I read it once. Then again.
Rogelio and Elena Fuentes. Ximena Fuentes de León and Mauricio León.
Then I realized that getting out of that garage was only the first step. The real bill hadn't been paid yet… and that evening it would be paid in full.
The penthouse seemed like another world: floor-to-ceiling windows, black marble, security at every entrance, and a huge table set as if war treaties were about to be signed. By eight o'clock in the evening, I no longer looked like the widow they'd sent to sleep next to the Audi. I was wearing a dark blue dress designed for my pregnancy, Diego's ID tag tucked under my collar, and a calmness that was more frightening than any scream.
General Tomás Zúñiga was waiting for me at the entrance.
“I'm not here to save you tonight, Engineer,” he said softly. “I'm here to see you take your place.”
At 7:55, the private elevator range.
My parents came out first. My mother clutched her purse with both hands; my father's tie was a mess. Behind them came Ximena and Mauricio, stiff, awkward, small in a space they could never have allowed themselves.
When they saw me standing next to the general, they held their breath.
