Chapter 2 - Table Seven
At 7:58 the following evening, Arturo entered the hotel restaurant with Camila on his arm.
He wore a tailored black suit.
Camila wore a champagne-colored dress.
Every head seemed to turn.
Arturo enjoyed that.
“Mr. Ledesma.”
The maître d' approached.
“Your table is ready.”
Arturo surveyed the dining room.
“Which one?”
“Table seven.”
It was positioned beneath the central chandelier.
Arturo smiled.
“Excellent.”
Camila hesitated.
“That’s very visible.”
“That’s why it’s the best table.”
They sat.
Arturo ordered wine without checking the price.
At 8:11, Camila noticed something.
“Why does everyone keep looking over here?”
Arturo didn't turn.
“They're looking at you.”
“No. The staff.”
“You're imagining things.”
At 8:14, the restaurant manager stepped into the room.
At 8:15, the main doors opened.
Camila saw her first.
Her face drained of color.
“Arturo.”
He continued reading the menu.
“What?”
“Arturo.”
“What?”
“Look.”
He turned.
Mariana walked toward them.
White suit.
Cream blouse.
Beige heels.
No wedding ring.
Arturo stopped breathing.
“Mariana?”
She continued toward the table.
Behind her walked Sergio Molina.
Then Octavio Barrios.
Several hotel executives followed.
Arturo stood abruptly.
“What are you doing here?”
Mariana stopped several feet away.
She looked at Camila.
Then at Arturo.
And smiled.
“Welcome to my hotel.”
Silence.
Camila stared at her.
Arturo laughed once.
It sounded forced.
“Your hotel?”
“The Gran Hotel Alvarado.”
“I know the name.”
“Apparently not.”
Mariana glanced around.
“My father opened the original property forty-one years ago. This building became the flagship twelve years later.”
Arturo's smile disappeared.
“Mariana—”
“The Alvarado Hospitality Group owns this hotel and eleven others.”
Camila slowly pulled her hand away from Arturo.
“You told me her family sold everything.”
Arturo snapped toward her.
“Camila, don't.”
Mariana answered instead.
“We didn't.”
Arturo lowered his voice.
“Can we speak privately?”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You came here to embarrass me?”
“I came here because you told me you were in Monterrey.”
People at nearby tables were pretending not to listen.
Arturo stepped closer.
“Mariana.”
“Don't.”
One word stopped him.
She wasn't angry.
That frightened him more.
Mariana turned toward Camila.
“How long?”
Camila swallowed.
“Mariana, I—”
“How long have you been sleeping with my husband?”
Arturo interrupted.
“You don't interrogate her.”
Mariana looked at him.
“Then you answer.”
He said nothing.
Camila whispered, “Eight months.”
Arturo stared at her.
“Camila.”
She looked at him.
“What? She already knows.”
Mariana nodded slowly.
“Eight months.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Did you know he was married?”
Camila looked down.
“Yes.”
“Then don't apologize.”
Camila's eyes filled with shame.
Mariana wasn't interested in punishing her.
She turned back to Arturo.
“Did you enjoy the suite?”
“What?”
“The presidential suite.”
Arturo looked around.
“Are you spying on guests now?”
“You checked into my hotel using your real name.”
Octavio almost coughed to hide a laugh.
Arturo pointed toward him.
“Why is he here?”
Octavio stepped forward.
“Good evening, Arturo.”
“Stay out of this.”
“I’m afraid that's no longer possible.”
He placed an envelope on the table.
Arturo stared at it.
“What is that?”
Mariana answered.
“Our divorce.”
Camila closed her eyes.
Arturo didn't touch the envelope.
“You're being ridiculous.”
“No.”
“You're destroying thirteen years because I made a mistake?”
Mariana's expression changed.
“A mistake?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at Camila.
“Eight months isn't a mistake.”
Arturo lowered his voice.
“You're emotional.”
Mariana almost smiled.
There it was.
The word he always used.
Emotional.
Whenever she disagreed.
Whenever she questioned him.
Whenever she wanted to examine the finances.
“Actually,” she said, “I've never been calmer.”
Octavio placed a second folder beside the envelope.
Arturo's eyes shifted toward it.
“And that?”
Mariana pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
“Don't order me around.”
“Then stand.”
She opened the folder.
And Arturo finally understood.
This wasn't about Camila.
Not entirely.
Mariana slid the first document toward him.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“My company.”
Another document.
“Mariana—”
Another.
“Stop.”
Another.
Arturo looked at Octavio.
“You had no right.”
Octavio's voice remained calm.
“They're Alvarado records.”
Camila stared at Arturo.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Mariana leaned back.
“Tell her.”
Arturo's face tightened.
“Mariana.”
“Tell Camila why you needed me to keep signing documents.”
Camila stood.
“What is she talking about?”
Arturo said nothing.
Mariana looked directly at him.
“You didn't just betray your wife.”
May you like
She closed the folder.
“You tried to steal her inheritance.”
