Chapter 2: The Mask of the Socialite
I carried them to the guest room—the only room with a lock on the door—and settled them in, whispering promises of safety and warmth that I would never break again. I kissed their foreheads, tucked them in, and turned the key. Then, I went down to the party.
The music was deafening. Jimena was on the dining table, laughing, a glass of expensive champagne in her hand. She wore a diamond necklace that I didn't recognize—a piece that cost more than a small car. She looked beautiful, polished, and utterly devoid of humanity.
I didn't shout. I walked up to the stereo system and killed the power. The room plunged into a confused silence, the guests murmuring in annoyance.
"Alejandro?" Jimena hopped down, her face molding into a look of feigned shock. "Darling! You’re back! I thought you were in Monterrey until the new year."
She glided toward me, ready to embrace me, ready to perform the role of the devoted wife. I stopped her with a single look.
"My daughters are upstairs," I said, my voice dangerously low. "They are eating moldy bread. They are freezing. They are terrified of you."
The room went still. Her guests, the socialites and hangers-on, began to edge toward the door.
Jimena scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. They’re just picky eaters. They have a weight problem, Alejandro. I’m trying to keep them healthy."
"Healthy?" I grabbed her wrist. The diamond necklace glinted in the chandelier light. "Where did this come from, Jimena? Where is the money I sent for their tuition? For their clothes? For their food?"
Her eyes flickered with panic, but she regained her composure instantly. "You’re making a scene. You’re tired from the travel. Go upstairs, take a shower, and we can discuss this in the morning."
"There is no morning for us," I said. "And there is certainly no future for you in this house."
I signaled to the security guards I had hired earlier that day, not knowing how much I would need them. "Get everyone out. Now."
Jimena turned pale. "You can't do this. I’m your wife! You’re just emotional because of the stress of the business."
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"I’m not emotional, Jimena," I said, stepping into her space. "I’m calculating. And I have spent the last hour accessing the remote servers for our joint accounts. I see everything. I see the withdrawals at the casinos. I see the transfers to the offshore accounts in the Caymans. I see the payments for a luxury apartment you didn't think I knew about."
Her mouth fell open. The game was up, and for the first time, she looked terrified—not for the girls, but for herself. She realized that the man she had played for a fool was the man who had built an empire from nothing. And she had just touched the one thing that made me dangerous: my children.
