One evening, I told him I had been thinking about refinancing the house.
“Jimena, we can’t risk that,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “The bank might call in the loans… I can’t lose control of everything.”
I smiled. “Of course, I just want to make sure we’re protected, Álvaro.”
He relaxed, thinking he was still in command. But every word, every reaction, was being logged, cataloged, saved. If he made one wrong move, I had proof.
Then came the day I tested him. I invited Renata over “for a discussion about the company.” Álvaro’s face brightened when he saw her; he thought he had an ally, someone who would reinforce his lies.
Renata played her part perfectly—flattering him, supporting his claims about me being naive, gullible, and “too distracted by motherhood” to notice finances. He leaned back, smug, confident.
