Javier took a step towards me.
—What’s happening with the bank?
—Go back to Claudia.
—I’m asking you something serious.
—I’ve also asked you how long you’ve been with her.
Callus.
“See?” I said. “Looks like we’ll both have unanswered questions tonight.”
I went back to the living room.
Ricardo was already standing next to a small lectern.
I took the empty chair at the back of the main table.
I didn’t leave.
Not because I wanted to see Javier suffer.
I stayed because of Ricardo.
My father-in-law had many faults, but for seventeen years he had never treated me with Carmen’s condescension. He had been reserved, perhaps too complacent in the face of some of his wife’s and son’s behavior, but he had also been at my house when my grandfather died and had spent an entire afternoon helping me organize his papers without asking about figures.
When he began to speak, his voice trembled slightly.
He reminisced about his first job, when they still used plans on tracing paper. He thanked former colleagues. He spoke about Carmen.
After their children.
And then he said my name.
—And to Lucía, who has had enough patience to put up with this family for more years than we probably deserve.
There was some laughter.
I smiled.
Carmen no.
Ricardo looked at me from the lectern as if he wanted to add something else, but finally looked down at his notes.
During dinner, Claudia barely spoke to me.
Javier, on the other hand, tried hard to act as if nothing strange had happened.
He discussed projects with two businessmen.
He joked with a cousin.
He even raised his glass during the toast.
I found the transformation fascinating.
Fifteen minutes earlier she had announced to me that our life together was over.
He was now cutting a piece of hake while explaining growth forecasts.
That’s how he had managed to get so far.
Javier knew how to compartmentalize.
The problem was that, lately, he had begun to believe that he could also compartmentalize people.
Wife.
Lover.
Family.
Business.
Everything in its place.
Each person with the right information.
Until the lines crossed.
Javier put down the cutlery.
I drank water.
—I know many people in that sector.
—Javier had told me that you worked from home.
There it was.
It didn’t sound offensive.
That made it worse.
—I work a lot from home.
-Consultancy?
-Among other things.
Javier intervened:
—Lucía manages some small family investments.
Small.
I slowly lowered the glass.
Claudia nodded.
—Ah.
One syllable.
Nothing else.
But the entire table understood its meaning.
A woman with some inherited money.
A financial pastime.
Not a profession.
Not a responsibility.
Not being able to.
Javier had been using expressions like that for years.
“Some investments from his family.”
“Heritage items.”
“She has her own affairs.”
I had never corrected him.
At first, because I didn’t care.
Later, because I found it useful to observe what people did when they believed I had nothing to offer them.
My grandfather, Tomás Aranda, had taught me that custom.
He had built a small industrial company, sold his stake decades later, and
capital has been transformed into an extraordinarily conservative investment structure.
We weren’t a family of magazine covers or big parties.
My grandfather distrusted those who needed to show off how much they owned.
When he died, I inherited a significant part of the estate and, more importantly, the responsibility of managing the family company that held the shares.
Javier knew it.
Or rather, he knew an old version.
When we got married, our assets were considerably smaller.
He never asked.
During the first few years, because I was busy surviving.
During the following years, because his own company began to grow.
And in the end, because he realized that all of that was still just a small family fund with no relevance compared to his success.
I felt no obligation to update his ego.
The phone vibrated inside my bag.
A message from Elena Rivas, legal director of Aranda Capital.
“The committee confirms the conditions. The final decision remains yours. Also
We’ve identified an issue you should look into before voting.
I read the second sentence twice.
Then I locked the phone.
Javier was watching me.
-Job?
-Yeah.
-Tonight?
—Some decisions can’t wait.
A shadow of irritation crossed his face.
Perhaps I was beginning to realize that there was a part of my life that I no longer had access to.
I still didn’t know how much it affected him.
CHAPTER 3 — THE PRICE OF BEING INVISIBLE
After dessert, the guests began to get up.
Some people approached to congratulate Ricardo.
Others formed small groups around tables with glasses of wine.
Javier found me by a window.
—I need you to explain the Meridional thing to me now.
