The wife he allowed to insult for months.
Then his cell phone vibrated. It was a message from attorney Carranza, the divorce lawyer.
“Mr. Del Río, after reviewing the signed attachments, I confirm that you granted primary custody, international travel authorization, and temporary waiver of the use of the family home. An investigation has also been opened for the improper use of marital funds.”
Mauricio read it once.
Then again.
His face drained of color.
“No…” he murmured.
Doña Amalia approached.
“What’s wrong?”
Mauricio didn’t answer. He dialed my number.
I was already at the airport with Emiliano asleep on my shoulder and Sofía silently eating cookies.
The phone vibrated.
Mauricio.
I didn’t answer.
He called again.
I blocked him.
Then a message arrived from an unknown number:
“Isabel, we need to talk. It was a mistake.”
I looked at my children. Neither of them deserved to grow up believing that love is something you have to beg for.
The boarding announcement came over the loudspeakers.
I grabbed their backpacks, took a deep breath, and walked toward the gate.
Meanwhile, in Polanco, Mauricio had just realized that he had lost his real family by chasing after a lie.
But he didn’t yet know the worst of it.
The whole truth was about to explode in front of everyone…
PART 3
Mauricio arrived at the airport an hour later, desperate, sweaty, his shirt askew, and with the face of someone who had just woken up amidst the ruins he himself had built.
But our flight had already closed.
I was on the other side of immigration, sitting next to my children, watching as Sofía rested her head in my lap and Emiliano clutched his teddy bear.
My cell phone received one last email from Mr. Escalante.
“We already filed the complaint about the transfers. I also sent your lawyer the evidence about the penthouse, the shell companies, and the use of shared accounts. Don’t answer any calls.”
I didn’t answer.
At the clinic, the scene had become unbearable.
Valeria sat in a chair, crying with her hands over her face. Doña Amalia paced back and forth, repeating that this was a disgrace. Renata was arguing with an administrator because someone from the family had brought flower arrangements, expensive gifts, and even a bottle of champagne that no one wanted to look at now.
“You made us look like clowns,” Renata yelled at Valeria.
Valeria lifted her face, devastated.
“You were cruel to Isabel too.”
The sentence hit hard.
No one responded.
Because it was true.
Doña Amalia had called a woman who looked after her grandchildren while Mauricio traveled with his lover “bitter.”
Renata had celebrated the divorce as if it were a party.
Mauricio had signed a permission slip for his own children to get to an ultrasound appointment on time.
When he finally returned from his futile attempt to catch me, he entered the clinic with red eyes.
“They’re gone,” he said.
Doña Amalia clutched her chest.
“What do you mean, they’re gone?”
“To Madrid. With permission signed by me.”
Renata froze.
“You signed that?”
Mauricio didn’t answer.
Then Attorney Carranza entered, serious, with a folder under his arm. He didn’t seem surprised. He seemed tired.
“Mr. Del Río, we need to talk about the accounts.”
“Not now,” Mauricio spat.
“Yes, now. Mrs. Isabel Salazar has evidence that you used marital funds to acquire property in the names of third parties. If you don’t cooperate, this could escalate to criminal charges.”
Doña Amalia looked at her son as if she were seeing the man she had raised for the first time.
“Is it true?”
Mauricio pressed his lips together.
Valeria let out a broken laugh.
“See? You lied too.”
He glared at her.
“You have no right to say anything.”
“Of course you do,” she replied, wiping away her tears. “Because everyone here pretended to be a decent family. You used me to feel young. Your mother used me to show off a grandson. Your sister used me to make fun of Isabel. And I… I used a lie to stay where I didn’t belong.”
For the first time, no one shouted.
Dr. Padilla appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Del Río, Mrs. Valeria, out of respect for the patient, I must ask that you continue this outside the medical area.”
It was then that Doña Amalia, the woman who never apologized to me for anything, slowly sat down.
“My grandchildren…” he whispered. “Emiliano and Sofía were our grandchildren.”
Mauricio lowered his gaze.
There was no heir. No perfect new life. No victory.
Only the echo of two children who were no longer there remained.
Hours later, when the plane took off, Sofía woke up and looked out the window.
“Mommy, is Daddy coming next?”
The question pierced me.
I took her little hand.
“I don’t know, my love. But we’re going to be okay.”
Emiliano, who was pretending to sleep, opened his eyes.
“Aren’t we going to hear any more screams?”
I felt my heart break in a different way.
I hugged him.
“No, my darling. Not anymore.”
We arrived in Madrid at dawn. My aunt Clara was waiting for us at the exit with tears in her eyes and open arms. She didn’t ask anything in front of us.
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