Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO HAD ALREADY PAID FOR MY HOUSE
“You told Adrián I was in trouble at work?”
My mother shook her head.
“No, sweetheart. He told me.”
I gripped the back of a chair.
“Why would you believe him without asking me?”
“Because he said you were too ashamed to tell me yourself.”
Her voice trembled.
“He came here one afternoon while you were working. He said there had been a serious mistake involving laboratory equipment. He claimed the clinic wanted money to settle the problem quietly.”
I felt something cold settle inside my chest.
“Mom, that's not how my clinic handles mistakes.”
“I know that now.”
She looked suddenly older.
“He said 75,000 pesos would make everything disappear. He promised to repay me before Christmas.”
“Did he give you anything in writing?”
“A handwritten receipt. I kept it.”
She disappeared into her bedroom.
When she returned, she carried a small envelope with my father's name written across the front.
Inside were a bank withdrawal slip and Adrián's receipt.
My father's savings.
Money he'd left my mother so she would never have to depend on anyone.
Adrián had taken part of it.
I sat down.
“Mom, why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought I was protecting you.”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“Your father always said we should help each other when things got difficult. I thought I was doing what he would have wanted.”
I wanted to be angry.
Part of me was.
But the person who'd lied to both of us wasn't sitting at that table.
I reached for her hand.
“We're going to find out what he did with that money.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“And we're going to get your life back.”
By Saturday morning, I'd barely slept.
Valeria rested on the couch while my mother made breakfast.
I contacted the lending company listed on the application.
After explaining that I hadn't applied for any loan, I was directed to its local office.
The application was still being reviewed.
That was the first piece of good news I'd received in four days.
The woman assisting me couldn't disclose every detail, but she helped me submit a written identity-theft dispute.
I left with a stamped acknowledgment.
It wasn't proof that everything would be all right.
But at least my objection now existed somewhere Adrián couldn't simply erase.
Next, I went to the clinic.
Our senior supervisor, Dr. Lucía Reyes, listened carefully as I explained the false accusations.
Her expression grew serious.
“Mariana, has anyone contacted you about a disciplinary investigation?”
“No.”
“That's because there isn't one.”
My throat tightened.
“Adrián told my mother I was stealing.”
“Then he lied.”
She leaned forward.
“Your work record is excellent. But if someone has been using your professional information without permission, we need to document that immediately.”
She gave me instructions for reporting the suspected misuse through the clinic's administration.
Before I left, she said something I desperately needed to hear.
“Your husband's accusations do not define your professional integrity.”
I thanked her.
Then I went outside and cried in my car.
Not because she'd solved everything.
Because somebody had finally treated me like the person I knew I was.
That afternoon, I returned to my mother's house.
Valeria was sitting at the kitchen table with the red notebook.
She had circled Rosa Álvarez's name.
“I found her contact information,” she said.
I looked at her.
“Why didn't you give it to me last night?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Adrián?”
“Of what she'd say about me.”
I pulled out a chair.
“Valeria, if we're going to stop him, you can't keep protecting yourself with half-truths.”
She nodded.
“You're right.”
We arranged to meet Rosa at a small café near the property.
Rosa was fifty-eight, with silver-streaked hair and tired brown eyes.
She arrived carrying a canvas handbag and an envelope.
“I don't understand,” she said as soon as we sat down. “Your husband told me the house was available because you were leaving Guadalajara.”
“I'm not leaving Guadalajara.”
Rosa frowned.
“He said you needed the sale because of debts.”
“I don't have those debts.”
She looked between us.
“Then what did I pay for?”
She opened the envelope.
Inside were copies of bank transfers totaling 280,000 pesos.
She explained that she'd been searching for a smaller house since her husband died.
The house in Zapopan had seemed perfect.
Quiet street.
Small garden.
Enough room for her daughter and grandchildren to visit.
“I've saved for years,” she said. “I trusted him.”
My heart sank.
Adrián had not only betrayed me.
He'd taken advantage of a grieving widow.
“Rosa, I didn't know the house was being sold.”
She stared at me.
“But you agreed to it.”
“No.”
“I was told you did.”
“Who told you?”
She turned toward Valeria.
The pregnant woman went completely still.
Rosa's expression changed.
“Wait a minute.”
She leaned forward.
“I recognize you.”
Valeria lowered her eyes.
Rosa looked at me again.
“When Adrián showed me the kitchen, there was a woman standing beside him.”
My stomach tightened.
“What woman?”
Rosa pointed directly at Valeria.
“Her.”
I turned slowly.
Valeria began to cry.
Rosa shook her head in disbelief.
“Adrián introduced her as his wife.”
May you like
Then she looked straight at me.
“And this woman shook my hand and told me her name was Mariana Ruiz.”
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