—Invitaste a una mujer de tu propia casa para humillarla y resulta que es la hija de Margarita Villaseñor. ¿Tienes idea de lo que puede costarnos esto? ¿En negocios? ¿En reputación?
Ximena lo miró, por primera vez, no como un esposo seguro, sino como un juez.
“Fix this,” Sebastian said. Apologize. Or I swear this humiliation you're going to face it alone.
He left her there.
It took Ximena nearly half an hour to gather courage to get closer to Gabriela, who was now talking to fashion editors, two Spanish investors and a Mexican actress who remembered her as a girl backstage.
“Gabriela,” he said at last, with a dry throat. Can we talk?
Gabriela followed her to a quieter corner of the living room.
Ximena tardó unos segundos en encontrar palabras. Las correctas no existían. Solo quedaban las verdaderas.
“I’m sorry. I was cruel. I invited you to humiliate yourself. I made fun of you for months. I treated you like you're less than me. And I'm sorry.
Gabriela watched her calmly. Not with superiority. That's what disarmed Ximena the most.
“Why did you do it?” Gabriela asked.
Ximena looked down.
Because I thought I could. Because I thought money gave me the right. Because I thought you were someone who couldn't hit me back.
Gabriela nodded slowly.
“Exactly. You thought I was nobody.
Ximena closed her eyes. It hurt to hear it that clear.
—La verdad —continuó Gabriela con suavidad— es que aunque yo tuviera diez veces más dinero que tú, eso no sería lo importante. Lo importante es cómo tratas a la gente cuando crees que no puede darte nada. Ahí se ve quién eres de verdad.
Ximena felt such a clean shame, so naked, that for a moment she wanted to disappear.
