It was a wedding photograph.
For illustrative purposes only
The lighting was professional, the colors warm and celebratory. The photo had been proudly posted by my mother-in-law, Lidia Ríos, whose smile in the image looked almost triumphant.
At the center stood Mauricio.
He wore an ivory suit and looked radiant—more relaxed than he had been with me in years.
Beside him stood a woman in white lace, her hand wrapped possessively around his arm.
Valeria Cruz.
A junior analyst from my own company.
A young woman I had personally mentored.
The caption beneath the image cut deeper than any blade.
Lidia congratulated her son for finally finding true happiness and proudly declared that this time he had chosen the right woman.
My hands trembled as I zoomed in.
His sisters were there.
His cousins.
Even friends who had attended dinners at the mansion I paid for.
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