No.
I wanted suffering that matched the betrayal.
I stood up, straightened my jacket, and stared down the corridor toward room 305 like a target.
“Enjoy your hospital honeymoon,” I whispered. “Because tomorrow… hell begins.”
Outside, in my car—I hadn’t even started the engine—I called Héctor, my trusted IT and security manager.
“Hello, Héctor,” I said in a calm voice that no longer sounded like my own.
“Madame de la Vega? Is everything alright?”
“I need your help tonight. Urgent. Confidential.”
“Always, Madam.”
“First: block Ricardo’s Platinum card. Second: manage the trading account he’s running—call it a surprise internal audit. Third: notify the legal department to prepare for asset recovery.”
There was a silence—Héctor was smart enough not to ask why.
“Understood. When do we get started?”
“Now. Immediately. I want the notification to arrive the moment he tries to pay anything.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“One last thing,” I added. “Find the best locksmith you can find. And hire two musclemen from security. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to the house in Segovia.”
“At your service, Madam.” I
hung up, started the car, and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror.
The woman who had been crying in the hallway was gone.
All that remained was Sofia, the CEO, who had finally understood the price of leniency.
My phone vibrated: a WhatsApp message from Ricardo.
“My love, I’ve arrived in Valencia. I’m exhausted. I’m going to sleep. Kisses. I love you.”
I laughed—a dry, high-pitched, humorless laugh.
Then I typed my reply with perfect composure.
“Okay, darling. Sleep well. Sweet dreams—because tomorrow you might be facing a surprising reality. I love you too.”
Send.
And as the screen went dark, a wry smile played on my lips.
The game had officially begun.
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