It was because of Liliana. She was dressed like a magazine cover model: perfect makeup, an expensive dress, a perfume that exuded ambition.
In the event hall, on an elegant terrace in Andares, there were luxury cars, men with expensive watches, conversations about numbers and power. Gerardo entered with Liliana on his arm as if he finally belonged to that world.
A host approached.
—Mr. Ríos, what a pleasure. And your wife?
Gerardo didn’t hesitate. He squeezed Liliana’s waist.
—Here she is. My wife.
Liliana smiled sweetly.
There was an eerie silence. Eyes met. No one said anything… yet.
They sat down. Folders on the table. Glasses. Pens ready to sign.
Then an executive cleared his throat.
—Before we proceed… our president was unable to attend. His daughter will represent him.
Gerardo smiled out of obligation. “A daughter isn’t scary,” he thought.
The door opened.
The footsteps sounded soft and firm. Everyone stood respectfully.
Gerardo turned around… and the world froze.
