I looked up.
“And the police?”
“Without clear proof, they won’t lift a finger. And Javier has lawyers who know every loophole in the law. If I accuse him outright, he’ll drag me down with him. They’ll say I signed everything. That I authorized it.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does this have to do with me?” I asked.
Ernesto stared at me.
“To the world, you disappeared after the divorce,” he said. “Javier and Lucía spread the idea that you moved to London, then America… Every time someone asked about you, they changed the story. Eventually people stopped asking. No one knows where you are. No one expects you.”
A sharp pain hit me as I imagined their voices telling those stories about my “new life.”
“I want you to return to their lives,” he said slowly, “but not as María, the ruined ex-wife. I want you to enter their house without them knowing who you are. Work for them. Listen. Watch. Get what I can’t from the outside.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You want me to be… what? Their maid? A household spy?”
“Call it whatever you want,” he replied. “I can arrange it through the domestic service agency they use. A false name, a different accent, your hair changed, new papers… Two years on the street have changed you more than you realize.”
My hand instinctively went to my hair—now short and dull, far from the carefully styled hair I once had.
“And in return?” I asked. “What do I get?”
Ernesto didn’t hesitate.
“A roof. Money. A new legal identity. And if everything goes well…” his eyes locked onto mine, “…I’ll make sure Javier and Lucía never touch another euro of my fortune. And whatever is mine, a part of it will be yours.”
Outside, the lights of the M-30 blurred into golden streaks. Inside the car, the silence felt heavy.
“You want me to take revenge on them with you?” I finally said.
Ernesto took a deep breath.
“I want the truth,” he answered. “And if the truth destroys them… so be it.”
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