“You were never a wife,” he snapped. “You were a bank with a body.”
The room went dead silent.
There it was.
In public.
The sentence he could never unsay.
I felt something inside me release.
Not pain.
Not anger.
Freedom.
I leaned in and said, very softly, “Thank you.”
He blinked.
“For what?”
“For finally telling the truth in front of witnesses.”
His face changed.
Before he could respond, a voice behind him said, “Señor Ríos?”
Two men in dark suits stood near the entrance.
Not security.
Police.
Mauricio turned.
The taller one said, “We need you to come with us.”
His face drained.
“Here?”
I said, “You chose the venue.”
