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Valeria smiled.
“Of course. I only want him comfortable.”
Then came the delayed calls, the canceled plans, and the messages Rodrigo answered hours later because Valeria was “handling his schedule.”
Soon, Valeria sat beside Rodrigo in meetings, chose his ties, entered his office without knocking, and called Renata “madam” in public but “Renata” when no one else was around.
Renata did not scream.
She did not beg.
She documented.
She asked the Salcedo Trust to review Grupo Ibarra’s corporate governance. Not because she was jealous, but because the numbers looked wrong.
And they were.
Apartments in Santa Fe were listed as executive lodging. Trips to Los Cabos were labeled investor relations. An image consultant had been paid 1.8 million pesos through a company linked to Valeria’s cousin. Valeria also had access to confidential material no assistant should have touched.
By the night of the dinner, Renata already knew enough to end the marriage.
What she had not expected was Valeria’s hand across her face.
After the slap, the restaurant manager entered with security. Behind him came Mariana Ríos, Renata’s lawyer, who had been sitting in the main dining room pretending to enjoy a quiet meal.
“Mrs. Salcedo,” Mariana said, “would you like to file a report?”
Valeria blinked.
“Who are you?”
“Her lawyer.”
Rodrigo stepped forward.
“Mariana, not now.”
Renata almost smiled. Rodrigo had forgotten something simple: a woman who is done being useful cannot be controlled with whispers.
“Yes,” Renata said. “File the report. And preserve every video from the dining room, hallway, entrance, and private elevator.”
Rodrigo’s face drained of color.
One investor, Don Santiago Arriaga, slowly set down his glass.
“Rodrigo,” he asked, “why are you so afraid of the video being saved?”
No one answered.
That silence hurt him more than any accusation.
Valeria looked at Rodrigo, waiting for him to defend her.
“Tell them this is ridiculous,” she said.
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