Elena lifted her eyes slowly, as though she were acknowledging a lamp or a painting.
“About what?” she asked. “Another property? You’ve always enjoyed expensive gestures.”
“I’m not talking about money,” he snapped. “You know exactly who that house is for.”
A faint smile curved her lips—but her eyes stayed cold.
“Oh. Her. The polished little heiress. The ‘business partner’s daughter’ you’ve been carefully getting to know for months. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
Héctor leaned back, smug.
“So you do know. And yet here you are, flipping pages like nothing happened.” He laughed softly. “I expected tears. Rage. Maybe a little begging. The classic betrayed-wife performance.”
Elena closed the magazine with deliberate care and laid it flat on the desk.
“That script is tired, Héctor,” she said calmly. “I don’t humiliate myself for men who’ve already humiliated themselves.”
He rose from his chair.
That made him pause.
“Valeria understands me,” he said sharply. “She’s refined. Educated. From the right circles. Not like—”
“Not like me?” Elena finished, unfazed. “The useful wife. The one who built the company beside you, managed the numbers, raised your children, and kept everything from collapsing while you chased admiration elsewhere?”
She shrugged lightly.
“But you’re free to choose. I respect that.”
He walked toward the door, keys already in hand.
“I’ll give you five days.”
Elena turned to face him fully now. Her smile sharpened—quiet, dangerous.
“Five days for you to enjoy your triumph. For her to bask in those twenty million pesos.”
Then, gently:
“After that, I’ll introduce two very special people to your little princess.”
The mansion was perfection carved in stone—marble floors, glass walls, gardens trimmed to obedience.
Valeria pressed herself against Héctor’s chest, fingers tracing his lapel.
“You spoil me,” she purred. “My future husband should be exactly like you.”
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