I felt as if a lightning bolt had struck my chest.
Ricardo put down his plate, took Laura’s hands, and kissed her fingers as if she were a queen. “
Be patient. If I divorce Sofia now, I’ll lose everything. She’s smart—everything’s in her name. The car, the watch, the project capital… it’s all her money.”
He let out a small laugh, almost admiring my usefulness.
“But don’t worry. We’ve been secretly married for two years.”
Laura pouted.
“So you’re going to continue being her parasite? You said you were proud.”
Ricardo let out a relaxed, confident laugh.
“Precisely because I’m proud. I need more capital.” I’m already siphoning money from her company into my account—cost overruns, fictitious projects. Just you wait. When we’ve saved enough for our house and our business,
I’ll dump her like an old sock. I’m sick of pretending to be nice to her. She’s controlling. You’re better… you’re submissive.
Laura laughed softly.
“And the house in Segovia, is it safe? Won’t Sofia claim it?”
“It’s safe,” he replied. “The deed isn’t in my name yet, but Sofia is naive. She thinks the house is empty. She doesn’t know that the ‘poor friend’ she’s helping is the queen in her husband’s heart.”
They laughed together—a clear, light, cruel laugh.
My hands tightened so much around the basket that the handle dug into my skin. I wanted to break down the door. I wanted to tear out his hair, slap him until his mouth forgot how to lie.
But a voice—an old piece of advice I’d heard long ago—pierced my rage:
If an enemy attacks, don’t fight with emotion. Strike when they least expect it. Destroy the foundation, and then bring the whole building crashing down.
My trembling hand slipped into my pocket. I pulled out my newest phone, put it on silent, and started recording video. Carefully, I pointed the camera through the crack.
I recorded everything.
Ricardo kissing Laura’s belly. Their “secret marriage.” His confession about embezzling funds from my company. His laughter at my generosity. All of it, clear and ruthless, in 4K.
Five minutes that felt like five lifetimes.
Then I backed away and left—step by step, swallowing the sobs that clawed at my throat. In an empty waiting room, I finally sat down, my eyes fixed on the saved video on my screen.
Tears flowed—briefly.
I wiped them away with the back of my hand.
Crying wasn’t trash.
“So all this time…” I whispered, my voice trembling as the love turned to something colder, “…I’ve been sleeping with a snake.”
Laura—the friend I treated like a sister—was nothing more than a smiling leech. I remembered her fake tears when she said she didn’t have money for food, and how I’d given her an extra credit card. I remembered Ricardo’s “too many work hours” excuses—probably spent at the house I owned, with the woman I was hosting.
The pain hardened to ice.
I opened my banking app. I had full access to everything—including the trading account Ricardo “managed,” because I was the actual owner. My fingers moved quickly.
Check balance.
€30,000 that should have been project funds.
Check transactions.
Transfers to boutiques. Jewelry. A gynecological clinic in Segovia.
“Enjoy your laughter,” I whispered. “While you can.
I won’t confront you in that room.” That would be too easy—tears, pleas, excuses, cheap theater.
No.
I wanted suffering commensurate with the betrayal.
I stood up, straightened my jacket, and fixed my gaze on the hallway toward room 305 as if it were a target.
“Enjoy your honeymoon in the hospital,” I muttered. “Because tomorrow… your hell begins.”
Outside, in my car, I didn’t even start the engine before calling Hector—my trusted IT and security chief.
“Good morning, Hector,” I said in a calm voice that no longer sounded like my own.
“Mrs. de la Vega? Everything alright?”
“I need your help tonight. Urgent. Confidential.
” “Always, ma’am.”
“First: block Ricardo’s platinum card. Second: freeze the trading account he manages—say there’s a sudden internal audit. Third: notify the legal team to prepare for asset recovery.”
A brief silence—Hector was smart enough not to ask why.
“Understood. When do we execute?”
“Now. Immediately.” I want the notification to arrive the exact moment he tries to pay something.
—I’ll take care of it.
—One more thing,— I added. —Find the best locksmith you can. And hire two strong security guards. We’re going to the house in Segovia tomorrow morning.
—At your service, ma’am.
I hung up, started the car, and glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
The woman who had cried in that hallway was gone.
Only Sofia—the CEO—remained, finally having learned the price of mercy.
My phone vibrated: a WhatsApp message from Ricardo.
“Love, I’ve arrived in Valencia. I’m exhausted. I’m going to sleep. Kisses. I love you.”
I laughed—softly, dryly, joylessly.
Then I typed my reply with perfect calm.
“Okay, darling. Sleep well. Sweet dreams—because tomorrow you might wake up to a… surprising reality. I love you too.”
Send.
And when the screen went black, a crooked smile spread across my lips.
The game had officially begun.
