I went back to the living room.
The music had stopped.
The guests began to leave discreetly.
Mr. Holguín was talking on the phone next to a column.
Carlota was crying in her mother’s arms.
Daniel was sitting near the window.
I approached him.
“Mom,” she said without looking up, “do you think Carlota ever truly loved me?”
I sat down next to him.
“I think some people can feel affection and still make terribly selfish decisions.”
Daniel remained silent.
Then he took my hand.
“Forgive me for not realizing how they were treating you.”
I gently squeezed her fingers.
“You don’t need to answer for the actions of others. But you do need to answer for what you do when you know the truth.”
He nodded.
We remained like that for a few moments.
Until I saw Lucas approaching.
He was carrying a small envelope.
“Mrs. Romero, they found this among the guests’ cards. It has your name on it.”
I opened it.
Inside was a printed photograph.
I immediately recognized Arturo Beltrán.
I was sitting at a restaurant table.
Mr. Holguín was standing in front of him.
The image had a date from almost five months ago.
Someone had photographed that meeting long before the engagement.
I turned the photograph over.
There was a phrase written in black ink.
Mr. Holguín is not the one directing the operation.
Below it appeared another one.
Ask about the Mirador project.
I remained motionless.
I knew that name.
Mirador was a real estate development that Romero Diseño Urbano had studied to acquire years ago.
A project that I ultimately rejected after discovering inconsistencies in its financial situation.
No one outside my management circle should know the details of that negotiation.
I looked at the photograph again.
Then I noticed something I had overlooked.
A third person appeared in the reflection of the restaurant window.
His face was not distinguishable.
But one hand was resting on the table.
She was wearing a gold ring with a green stone.
A ring that I had seen hundreds of times.
I felt my fingers freezing.
Because that ring did not belong to Arthur.
Nor to Mr. Holguín.
It belonged to someone who had participated in my company’s meetings long before Daniel met Carlota.
Someone who always seemed to be on my side.
Someone whose presence in that photograph could change absolutely everything.
And just as I was trying to zoom in on the image with my phone, I received a message from an unknown number.
Isabel, if you want to know who is behind the Mirador project, don’t talk to Arturo yet.
A second message appeared immediately.
And above all, don’t show that photograph to Veronica.
I stared at the screen.
Verónica Cárdenas.
My legal director.
The woman to whom he had just entrusted the entire investigation.
The woman who wore a gold ring with a green stone.
Then a third message arrived.
This time it contained only six words.
“She knows who forged the signature.”
