By eight the next morning, Grant Holdings had lost twelve percent of its market value.
By nine, Sebastian was standing in my office.
He hadn’t slept.
His tie was crooked, his eyes were red, and the confident man who had canceled our engagement forty-eight hours earlier looked like someone had finally explained compound interest to him.
—Restore the investment.
I continued reading the report in front of me.
—Good morning, Mr. Grant.
—Valeria, I’m serious.
—So am I.
He placed both hands on my desk.
—Three banks are threatening to suspend our credit lines.
—I know.
—Northline construction stopped this morning.
—I know.
—Then you understand what you’re doing.
I finally looked at him.
—Perfectly.
His voice dropped.
—You’re punishing me for marrying Camila.
—No. I’m refusing to subsidize a company with which Torres Group no longer has a strategic alliance.
—That’s the same thing.
—Only if you believed marrying me entitled you to my money.
His face tightened.
Before he could answer, my assistant entered.
—Miss Torres, Mrs. Grant is here.
Sebastian turned.
—My mother?
—No.
My assistant hesitated.
—Your wife.
Camila entered wearing white.
Of course.
She carried a designer handbag and wore the expression of someone arriving to negotiate peace between two unreasonable people.
—Valeria, may we speak woman to woman?
I almost smiled.
Sebastian looked uncomfortable.
—Camila, this isn’t necessary.
—It is.
She sat without being invited.
—Sebastian told me you’re withdrawing hundreds of millions because of our marriage.
—Sebastian is mistaken.
Her smile became sweeter.
—I understand that you’re hurt.
—Do you?
—Of course. Losing the man you planned to marry must be humiliating.
Sebastian closed his eyes.
—Camila.
But she continued.
—Still, destroying his family’s company won’t bring him back.
I leaned back.
—Who said I wanted him back?
Her smile faltered.
I pushed a document across the desk.
—This is the original Aurora investment agreement.
She didn’t touch it.
—Why are you showing me this?
—Because you seem confused about who was helping whom.
Sebastian went still.
I continued.
—Three years ago, Grant Holdings couldn’t secure financing for Aurora. Torres Group provided the capital, guaranteed part of the debt and introduced Grant to two international lenders.
Camila looked at Sebastian.
He said nothing.
—Northline was similar. Without our guarantee, Grant couldn’t meet the collateral requirements.
I folded my hands.
—Sebastian wasn’t marrying me to save me, Camila. Our marriage was supposed to formalize an alliance his company already depended on.
Her face slowly changed.
—You never told me that.
Sebastian snapped:
—Because my corporate financing is none of your concern.
I almost laughed.
Twenty-four hours married, and the sweetness was already cracking.
Camila stood.
—Then fix it.
Sebastian stared at her.
—What?
—Get her to put the money back.
Silence.
I watched Sebastian’s expression.
For the first time, perhaps he understood that the woman he had described as warmer and “more woman” was not interested in warmth when creditors started calling.
He turned toward me.
—Give me thirty days.
—No.
—Two weeks.
—No.
—Valeria, my employees didn’t do anything to you.
That argument almost worked.
Almost.
—Which is why Torres Group has already offered to acquire the two divisions most exposed to the liquidity crisis.
His eyes widened.
—You did what?
I slid another folder toward him.
—We will preserve the jobs.
He opened it.
His face went white.
—You’re trying to buy Northline.
—Correct.
—At this valuation?
—Your valuation changed overnight.
—Because of you!
—Because your company was overleveraged.
I stood.
—My investment merely hid the weakness.
Camila suddenly grabbed Sebastian’s arm.
—Don’t sell anything.
He looked at her.
—If I don’t, we may default.
Her expression changed again.
Fear.
Not for him.
For the life she had married into.
That afternoon, the Grant family called an emergency board meeting.
At 3:20, Sebastian’s father personally called me.
—Valeria, let’s not allow the children’s romantic problems to destroy twenty years of cooperation.
I answered calmly:
—Your son made it clear yesterday that our families would no longer be joined.
—Marriage and business are separate matters.
—Then Grant Holdings should have prepared to survive separately.
He went silent.
At six, another call came.
This time from my CFO.
His voice sounded strange.
—Valeria, we’ve found something.
—What?
—Someone knew we were withdrawing from Aurora before last night’s board meeting.
I stopped walking.
—Impossible.
Only six executives had known.
—How early?
—Forty-eight hours.
My stomach tightened.
That was before Sebastian had officially married Camila.
—Who?
—We don’t know yet. But someone opened a large short position against Grant Holdings.
I stared through the office windows.
—How large?
He told me.
I stopped breathing for a second.
If Grant collapsed, whoever had made that trade would earn a fortune.
This was no longer just about Sebastian’s arrogance.
Someone had expected me to withdraw.
Someone had expected the engagement to collapse.
—Trace everything you can legally trace.
—Already doing it.
At 9:40 that night, my assistant brought me a sealed envelope.
No sender.
Inside was a photograph.
Sebastian and Camila.
But it wasn’t recent.
The date printed at the bottom was eighteen months earlier.
They were sitting with a third person.
A man I recognized immediately.
One of Grant Holdings’ largest creditors.
On the back, someone had written:
“Ask yourself why Camila chose Sebastian now.”
Underneath was another sentence.
“She wasn’t brought into his life to steal your fiancé.”
I turned the photograph over again.
Then I saw the final line.
“She was brought in to make you withdraw your money.”
My phone rang.
Sebastian.
I answered.
He didn’t say hello.
His voice trembled.
—Valeria, don’t sign anything tomorrow.
—Why?
—Because Camila is gone.
I stood.
—What do you mean, gone?
—Her clothes, passport, everything.
He swallowed.
—And seventy million dollars disappeared from one of our corporate accounts with her.
