I looked towards the small table next to the kitchen doors.
“Was it also a misunderstanding that I was seated far from my son while you occupied the main table?”
Several heads turned towards that corner.
For the first time, the guests noticed the stacked cards, trays, and attendees who had remained virtually invisible throughout the evening.
Carlota’s mother pursed her lips.
“It was an organizational problem.”
“Then perhaps we should ask the organizer who gave the instructions.”
The young woman in charge of the event remained completely still.
Carlota gave him a look that seemed like a warning.
I looked at her too.
“Don’t be afraid. No one will lose their job for telling the truth.”
The girl took a deep breath.
“It was an instruction from Mrs. Holguín,” he confessed.
A murmur rippled through the tables.
“He asked me to ensure that Mr. Daniel’s mother did not appear in the family photographs.”
Carlota slammed her palm on the table.
“That’s a lie!”
The organizer backed down.
But then Lucas, the young waiter, discreetly raised a hand.
“I heard when he asked for it, ma’am.”
Mrs. Holguín pointed at him with a trembling finger.
“You should just stick to serving the drinks!”
That sentence finally convinced me.
I left the microphone on its stand.
And I stepped down from the small stage.
“Lucas,” I said, “I want you to come by my office tomorrow. I’m interested in talking to you about the treatment the staff receives.”
The boy looked at me as if he had misunderstood.
“Yes, Mrs. Romero.”
Daniel appeared in front of me.
Her expression no longer had any of the happiness with which the night had begun.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
I looked at him closely.
“That’s what I’d like to know too.”
Carlota clung to his arm.
“Daniel, your mother is turning our party into a spectacle.”
My son looked towards the table next to the kitchen.
Then she looked at the organizer, whose eyes were filled with tears.
“Did they really sit my mom there?” he asked.
Carlota took too long to respond.
“It was my mother’s decision.”
Daniel slowly moved his arm away.
“And you knew it?”
She lowered her gaze.
That was enough.
But before my son could say anything else, Mr. Holguín approached with a forced smile.
“Isabel, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Our families are going to be united. It’s not a good idea to turn a small misunderstanding into a tragedy.”
I didn’t like the way she pronounced the word families.
I also didn’t like how quickly he had regained his composure.
“Then let’s start with the apologies,” I replied.
Mrs. Holguín looked like she was about to explode.
Finally, he took the microphone.
He offered a few brief words.
Cold.
Insufficient.
But enough for the guests to understand what had happened.
I ordered the celebration to continue only because I did not intend to punish my son for the arrogance of other people.
I returned to the main table.
Daniel insisted that I sit next to him.
Carlota barely looked at me during the rest of the toast.
And just when it seemed that the night was finally beginning to calm down, Lucas appeared discreetly behind me.
“Mrs. Romero, I need to show you something.”
Her voice had a different tension.
It wasn’t the nervousness of an employee in front of the owner.
It was fear.
I accompanied him to a private hallway, away from the music.
There he handed me a thin gray folder.
“I found it a little while ago on the coordination table. I thought it was just normal event documentation.”
I looked at the first page.
It was a billing request addressed to Brasa del Pacífico Properties.
I immediately recognized my company’s name.
Below was a description that made me frown.
Extraordinary hospitality and corporate representation services.
The amount was two million four hundred thousand pesos.
“Who authorized this?” I asked.
Lucas swallowed hard.
“I don’t know. But I heard Miss Charlotte say it had to be ready before tomorrow.”
I turned to the next page.
The supplier was a company called Altamar Consulting.
I had never heard that name before.
And yet, the document stated that my company had agreed to pay him for an alleged public relations campaign related to the party.
It didn’t make sense.
I had authorized the use of the hall and a specific budget for the engagement.
Nothing else.
Then I found a handwritten note.
Do not introduce Mrs. Romero until after the signing.
I felt a chill.
“What signature?” I murmured.
Lucas shook his head.
“There’s something else, ma’am.”
He pointed to the bottom of the folder.
The name of the person in charge of the management appeared there.
And below, an observation.
