Miguel answered without hesitation.
“Three months later. Irreconcilable differences. She’ll be emotionally destroyed. She won’t fight. And with the loan still active and the house as collateral, she’ll have to sell it to pay it off.”
He paused, then added the part that made my stomach turn.
“And I, as her brother and accountant, will offer to ‘help’ her with the sale.”
They laughed.
All three of them laughed.
Not nervous laughter.
Not disbelief.
The satisfied laughter of people who believed they had already won.
I covered my mouth to keep from making a sound.
Under the bed, the carpet fibers pressed into my knees. My wedding ring felt like it was burning my finger.
I was shaking so hard my teeth threatened to chatter.
Then Carolina’s voice turned playful.
“And what about her?” she asked, nodding toward the bed.
Miguel replied like he was ordering coffee.
“Leave her. The sleeping pills are strong. She’ll wake up around noon with a headache. By then, we’ll have already started moving pieces.”
“Αndrés,” Carolina said softly, and the way she said her name made me nauseous, “see you at the bank at eight?”
“Eight sharp,” he replied.
Then they kissed.
Right there.
Centimeters from where I lay in the darkness.
The sound blurred my vision—not from tears, but from a rage so intense it felt like it could melt me.
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