My husband kissed our son and me goodbye and said he had to leave early for a business trip. I drove him to the airport; everything seemed perfectly normal, until my five-year-old son tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “Mom… you should keep an eye on Dad.” My heart sank a little. I stood in the parking lot, staring at the entrance. A few minutes later, instead of heading to the gates, he walked straight out and got into a taxi. I followed him silently. When the taxi pulled up, what I saw chilled me to the bone.
My name is Laura Martínez, and that morning seemed like any other. My husband, Javier, kissed our son Mateo and me at the front door and repeated his usual routine: business trip to Valencia, short meeting, return the next day. There were no nerves, no suspicious suitcase, no prior arguments.
