Diego stared at the report for several seconds.
Then he laughed.
It was not a nervous laugh.
It was the slow, contemptuous laugh of a man who still believed he was the only person in the room who understood what was happening.
—What is this supposed to be, Lucía?
I stepped out of the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
I was already wearing my coat.
My briefcase rested beside my feet.
Behind me, the bedroom door stood open, revealing an almost empty closet.
His smile vanished.
—Where are your clothes?
—Roma Norte.
He blinked.
—What?
—I moved out three days ago.
Diego looked around the apartment again, as though only then noticing that the framed photographs on the shelves were gone, that half the books had disappeared and that the ceramic coffee set my father had given me was no longer in the kitchen.
Then his eyes returned to the pages on the granite counter.
—You canceled my card.
—Yes.
—Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?
That almost made me smile.
Not because it was funny.
Because after abandoning me at an airport for another woman, his greatest concern was that his credit card had been rejected.
—Where were you when it happened?
His jaw tightened.
—That’s irrelevant.
—Polanco?
Silence.
—Or Santa Fe?
Another silence.
I opened the transparent binder.
The first section contained ordinary expenses.
Hotels.
Client dinners.
Gasoline.
Airfare.
The second section was different.
Luxury restaurants during weekends when Diego claimed to be attending business meetings.
Boutique purchases charged as “corporate representation expenses.”
Hotel rooms registered under project codes belonging to clients who had never scheduled meetings on those dates.
Diego’s face slowly lost color.
—You had no right to investigate me.
I looked at him.
—I’m the company’s main operations auditor.
—I mean personally.
—Unfortunately for you, you mixed your personal life with corporate money.
He reached for the binder.
I closed it before his fingers touched the documents.
—Those are copies.
That stopped him.
—Where are the originals?
—Safe.
For the first time that night, something resembling fear appeared in his eyes.
He tried to hide it immediately.
—You’re overreacting because Daniela felt sick at the airport.
—Daniela wasn’t sick.
His expression hardened.
—You don’t know that.
I removed another page.
It was a transportation receipt.
Two passengers.
Airport to Santa Fe.
Destination: Hotel Altura.
Not Daniela’s apartment.
A hotel.
I slid the receipt across the counter.
—Your corporate transportation account automatically generated the electronic invoice.
Diego didn’t touch it.
—We stopped there because Daniela needed to meet someone.
—For three nights?
His eyes snapped toward mine.
That was the first mistake.
Until that moment, I had never mentioned how long the hotel reservation lasted.
He realized it immediately.
I did too.
The apartment seemed to become quieter.
—Lucía—
—Don’t.
His phone suddenly vibrated inside his jacket.
He ignored it.
It vibrated again.
Then a third time.
I could see the name reflected faintly on the black granite.
Daniela.
Diego turned the phone face down.
—She’s probably asking about work.
—At ten o’clock on a Sunday night?
—She’s my subordinate. Problems don’t follow office hours.
I nodded slowly.
—Interesting choice of words.
—What does that mean?
Instead of answering, I pulled out another sheet.
This one was not a credit card statement.
It was an internal reimbursement request signed digitally by Diego three weeks earlier.
Beneficiary: Daniela Flores.
Concept: relocation assistance for strategic personnel.
Amount: 148,000 pesos.
Diego’s face changed completely.
—Where did you get that?
There it was.
Not denial.
Not confusion.
Fear.
—I told you what I do for a living.
He stepped closer.
—That reimbursement was authorized.
—By whom?
—Commercial management.
—You’re commercial management.
—Exactly.
—Company policy requires two signatures for any relocation expense above fifty thousand pesos.
His breathing became heavier.
I pointed toward the authorization field.
A second electronic signature appeared beneath his.
Mine.
Lucía Rodríguez.
Except I had never signed it.
Diego stared at the page.
I watched his eyes move toward the timestamp.
Tuesday, 11:43 p.m.
A date when I had been sitting beside him at home watching television.
—Someone used my credentials, Diego.
He swallowed.
—I can explain that.
—I’m sure you can.
—Daniela needed the money urgently. There was an administrative delay and—
—So you forged my authorization?
—I didn’t say that.
—Then who did?
He said nothing.
His phone vibrated again.
This time I saw the message preview before he could hide it.
DANIELA: SHE KNOWS. CALL ME NOW.
My eyes lifted slowly.
Diego grabbed the phone.
Too late.
We had both seen it.
—What exactly am I not supposed to know?
—Lucía, listen to me—
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Diego froze.
I hadn’t ordered anything.
Neither had he.
Through the video intercom screen beside the entrance, I could see a man standing in the corridor wearing a dark jacket and carrying a large sealed envelope.
Diego walked toward the screen.
The moment he saw the man’s face, all the remaining color disappeared from his skin.
—Don’t open that door.
I turned toward him.
—Why?
—Lucía, I’m serious.
The bell rang again.
Then the man outside spoke through the intercom.
—Mrs. Rodríguez? I’m from the internal compliance department. I was instructed to deliver documents directly to you.
Diego moved between me and the door.
—You’re not taking that envelope.
His voice no longer sounded arrogant.
It sounded desperate.
And that frightened me more than anything else that had happened.
Because Diego had never been afraid of an expense report.
I stepped backward.
—Move.
—You don’t understand what you’re doing.
—Then explain it.
His eyes flickered toward the transparent binder.
Toward my briefcase.
Toward the door.
Then he said something I did not expect.
—Daniela isn’t the problem.
I stared at him.
—What?
He lowered his voice.
—Those hotel charges, the relocation payment, the forged authorization… you think you’ve discovered an affair.
My stomach tightened.
—Haven’t I?
Diego looked almost relieved.
—Believe me, Lucía. I wish that were all you’d discovered.
The bell rang a fourth time.
His phone lit up again.
Not Daniela this time.
A message from an unknown number.
Diego glanced at it.
His expression collapsed.
I saw only one sentence before he locked the screen.
THE AUDITOR HAS THE FILE. FIX IT TONIGHT.
My pulse stopped for half a second.
Diego raised his eyes toward me.
And suddenly I understood something terrifying.
The report on my kitchen counter was not making my husband afraid of losing our marriage.
It was making him afraid of what I might uncover next.
The compliance officer knocked hard on the door.
—Mrs. Rodríguez, please open. This concerns transactions made under your employee credentials.
I reached for the lock.
Diego grabbed my wrist.
—Lucía, if you open that envelope, there is no going back.
I pulled my hand free.
—There was no going back after Terminal 2.
And I opened the door.
The compliance officer handed me the envelope without entering.
Across the front, stamped in red, were four words:
CONFIDENTIAL — INTERNAL FRAUD INVESTIGATION.
I broke the seal.
The first page contained a list of twelve shell companies connected to suspicious logistics contracts.
The second page contained bank transfers.
The third contained employee names.
I read the first.
Then the second.
And when I reached the fifth name, my hands finally began to tremble.
Because it wasn’t Diego’s.
It was mine.
Beside my name was a transfer authorization for 8.7 million pesos that I had never seen before.
And underneath it, in bold letters, appeared the date the company planned to formally identify its primary suspect.
Monday. Eight o’clock in the morning.
Less than ten hours away.
I slowly raised my eyes.
Diego was staring at me from across the kitchen.
But he wasn’t shocked.
He already knew.
