Chapter 3 - THE DINNER OF LIES
By Tuesday evening—the night before my supposed departure—the house in Cuernavaca felt like an elaborate soundstage constructed for a psychological horror film.
The rain had finally arrived, pouring off the tiled roof in heavy sheets, rattling against the tall glass doors of the dining room. Inside, the chandelier threw a warm, golden glow over a table laid with silver cutlery, crystal wine glasses, and a elaborate roasted chicken that Eduardo had spent two hours preparing.
He was in an unusually buoyant mood. He wore a dark blue linen shirt, opened at the collar, and carried himself with the animated energy of a man on the eve of a monumental victory. He poured a deep red Rioja into my glass, his hand perfectly steady.
"To your trip," Eduardo said, raising his glass, his dark eyes reflecting the candlelight. "To new opportunities and a fresh start for us."
I raised my glass, tapping it against his with a crisp, clear clink.
"To fresh starts," I replied, taking a small sip.
Across the table, Daniel sat silently, pushing a baby carrot around his plate with his fork. He hadn't said more than ten words since coming home from school. His little face was pale, his eyes darting nervously between his father and me every time Eduardo spoke.
"Daniel, light of my life," Eduardo said, leaning toward our son with an exaggeratedly warm smile. "Why so quiet tonight? Aren't you excited that Daddy is taking you to the waterpark in Oaxtepec this weekend after Mommy gets back?"
Daniel kept his eyes glued to his plate. "I have a lot of homework, Daddy."
"Nonsense," Eduardo laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "You're seven! Homework can wait. We're going to have a boys' week. Isn't that right, Laura?"
"A boys' week sounds lovely," I said, my voice dripping with honeyed calm. "Though I was checking our family calendar earlier, Eduardo. I noticed a charge on our secondary joint card last week from a high-end jewelry store in Altavista. Fifty-four thousand pesos. I don't recall buying any jewelry."
The air in the dining room froze instantly.
Eduardo’s fork hovered an inch above his plate. For a fraction of a second—a tiny, glorious micro-second—I saw a flash of pure, unadulterated panic pass through his dark eyes. The sociopathic mask slipped, revealing the terrified fraud beneath.
"Oh," Eduardo cleared his throat, forcing a short, casual laugh that sounded entirely hollow. "That... ah, that was a surprise for our anniversary next month, darling. You weren't supposed to see that statement yet."
"An anniversary gift?" I smiled, leaning forward, resting my chin on my hands. "In silver and emeralds? You know emeralds aren't my style, Eduardo. I've always preferred pearls."
Silvana’s social media profile—which Donati’s team had fully archived three hours ago—featured a prominent photo posted four days ago showing a delicate silver bracelet set with three small emeralds, captioned: “Early anniversary treats from my knight.”
Eduardo swallowed hard, his collar suddenly looking a bit too tight around his throat. "Well... the jeweler assured me it was a classic piece. But if you don't like it, I can always exchange it when you get back from Guadalajara."
"Of course," I said softly, picking up my napkin and dabbing the corner of my mouth. "We can exchange many things when I get back."
At 9:00 p.m., I took Daniel upstairs to put him to bed. I sat on the edge of his mattress, stroking his hair while the rain beat a steady rhythm against his bedroom window.
"Mommy?" he whispered, pulling his blanket up to his chin.
"Yes, my brave boy?"
"Is the bad lady coming here tomorrow?"
I leaned down and kissed his forehead, feeling the cool skin of his cheek. "No, Daniel. Tomorrow, Daddy is going to make a very big mistake, and a lot of smart people are going to make sure that lady never comes near our house ever again. All I need you to do tomorrow morning is get on the school bus like you do every single day. Can you do that?"
"Yes, Mommy," he murmured, his eyelids growing heavy. "I love you."
"I love you more than life itself," I whispered.
I waited in his room until his breathing turned deep and rhythmic. Then I walked down the dark corridor toward the master bedroom.
Eduardo was already in bed, tapping away on his encrypted phone, his face illuminated by the white glow of the screen. As I entered, he quickly swiped the screen dark and placed the phone face down on the nightstand.
"All packed for tomorrow morning?" he asked, his voice returning to its smooth, practiced cadence. "Remember, your car service is arriving at 4:30 a.m. You don't want to miss that six-ten flight."
"Everything is ready, Eduardo," I said, slipping into my side of the bed, turning my back to him. "Everything is set in stone."
"Good night, my love," he said, reaching over to turn off the lamp, plunging the room into absolute, terrifying darkness.
"Good night, Eduardo," I said to the dark.
I didn't sleep for a single minute. I lay wide awake in the dark, watching the red digital numbers on the bedside clock tick away the hours.
3:00 a.m. 3:30 a.m. 4:00 a.m.
At 4:15 a.m., I quietly slipped out of bed, dressed in a sleek black business suit, picked up my packed suitcase, and walked downstairs.
Outside, a black town car hired by Donati’s team pulled up to the curb. Eduardo did not get out of bed to say goodbye; he was already celebrating my departure in his sleep, convinced that the machine he had put in motion was now unstoppable.
I opened the front door, felt the cool, damp morning air sweep over my face, and stepped into the vehicle.
"Where to, Mrs. Saldaña?" the driver asked softly.
May you like
I looked back at the grand white house where my husband lay sleeping, dreaming of my destruction.
"Take me to the safehouse near Notary 32," I said. "It's time to open the stage."
