“They needed footage of you losing control. Tonight was planned.”
Valeria did not answer.
She swung her legs carefully off the hospital bed and reached for the plastic bag containing the clothes she had been wearing.
“Ma’am, you should stay seated,” the nurse said.
“I’m not leaving.”
Valeria pulled out the damaged sweater.
There it was.
A small burned hole near the curve of her abdomen.
The sight made her hands shake, but she forced herself to photograph it again under the bright hospital lights.
Then she photographed the red mark beneath it.
Not because she wanted to remember.
Because she never wanted anyone else to decide what had happened that night.
The police officer taking her statement looked up.
“Do you want to add something?”
“Yes.”
Valeria handed him the phone.
“I believe the assault may have been planned.”
The officer’s expression changed.
Within forty minutes, Lucía Herrera arrived at the hospital carrying a laptop, two folders and the kind of expression Valeria had seen only twice during the twelve years they had known each other.
Lucía was furious.
She hugged Valeria carefully.
Then she looked at her stomach.
“How is the baby?”
“Stable.”
“And you?”
Valeria almost said fine.
Instead, she shook her head.
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s a better answer.”
They sat beside the hospital window while fireworks continued exploding over Mexico City as if somewhere outside that room the new year were still something worth celebrating.
Lucía opened her laptop.
“I need you to see this before we decide our next move.”
Three company names appeared on the screen.
Orbe Consultores.
Norte Capital Servicios.
ENM Strategic Holdings.
Valeria frowned.
“I’ve never heard of any of them.”
“You paid all three.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Exactly.”
Lucía showed her the transfers.
Small ones at first.
Two hundred thousand pesos.
Three hundred fifty thousand.
Four hundred thousand.
Then larger payments.
One million.
Two million.
Several transactions had been labeled consulting fees, property management expenses and investment advisory services.
Over eighteen months, they totaled 16.8 million pesos.
Valeria stared at the numbers.
“How?”
“Nicolás had limited authorization to manage household expenses while you were traveling.”
“Limited. The cap was fifty thousand pesos per transaction.”
“They appear to have bypassed that by routing approvals through an administrative account connected to one of your companies.”
Valeria looked up sharply.
“Whose account?”
Lucía hesitated.
“Yours.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Someone used your credentials.”
A terrible memory surfaced.
Six months earlier, Nicolás had entered her home office while she was preparing to leave for Monterrey.
He had held out her phone.
“You forgot to approve the building insurance payment.”
She had been fastening an earring.
“Can you do it? You know my code.”
He had smiled.
“Of course.”
She had thought nothing of it.
She closed her eyes.
“He had access to my phone.”