PART 1
“Presidential suite. And make sure nobody disturbs us.”
Arturo Ledesma placed his black card on the marble counter of the Gran Hotel Alvarado as if money alone could buy silence, loyalty, and respect.
The woman standing beside him was not his wife.
Camila Ríos smiled brightly, holding the designer handbag Arturo had given her two weeks earlier. She was young, elegant, and clearly impressed by the chandeliers, fresh flowers, polished floors, and expensive atmosphere of the hotel.
Arturo enjoyed that look on her face.
He liked feeling powerful.
That morning, before leaving his home in Lomas de Chapultepec, he had kissed his wife, Mariana Alvarado, on the forehead and told her he was flying to Monterrey for investor meetings.
Mariana had only asked calmly, “Monterrey again?”
“That’s business,” he replied, checking his watch. “Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t,” she said.
Arturo did not notice the weight behind her words.
After thirteen years of marriage, he thought he understood Mariana. Quiet. Elegant. Useful at formal dinners. Perfect in family photos. A woman who never challenged him.
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