Chapter 5 - Brenda’s Choice
Brenda called Mariana at 2:13 the next morning.
Mariana almost ignored the unknown number.
Lucía answered instead.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a woman whispered, “Is Mariana there?”
Lucía turned on the recorder only after receiving Mariana’s nod.
“Who is this?”
“Brenda.”
Mariana took the phone.
“What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You were in my apartment yesterday.”
“I know.”
“You watched Andrés lie.”
“I didn’t know he was lying.”
Mariana said nothing.
Brenda’s breathing was fast.
“He knows you went to Puebla.”
Lucía and Esteban exchanged looks.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you telling me?”
Another pause.
“Because tonight he asked me to sign something.”
“What?”
“A statement saying you threatened me last year.”
Mariana frowned.
“I barely knew you existed last year.”
“I know.”
Brenda’s voice cracked.
“He said it was just protection.”
“Protection from what?”
“You.”
Mariana almost laughed.
Instead she felt tired.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I found a file.”
Every person in the room became still.
“What file?”
“My name.”
Brenda began crying quietly.
“He had one for me too.”
They met at six in the morning in the underground parking garage of a shopping center.
Lucía chose the location.
Cameras.
Security.
Multiple exits.
Brenda arrived wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, nothing like the polished woman from the apartment.
She looked terrified.
In her hand was a flash drive.
“I copied what I could.”
Lucía did not touch it.
“From where?”
“Andrés’s home office.”
“Do you live with him?”
Brenda nodded.
“For six months.”
Mariana absorbed that.
The timing hurt less than she expected.
There were larger betrayals now.
Brenda continued.
“He told me you were unstable.”
Mariana’s mouth tightened.
“He said you refused to work.”
“I work two jobs.”
“I know that now.”
“He said the children didn’t want to see me.”
Mariana stared.
Brenda lowered her eyes.
“I know.”
“What else?”
“He said the Querétaro house belonged to him before you married.”
“That’s false.”
“I know.”
Brenda wiped her face.
“Yesterday after we left your apartment, we fought.”
“What happened?”
“I asked why the children lived like that.”
“And?”
“He said you chose poverty to manipulate everyone.”
Carmen, listening through speakerphone from the hotel, whispered something Mariana could not hear.
Brenda continued.
“Then I asked about the receipt.”
“The four hundred thousand?”
“Yes.”
“He became angry.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was an accounting mistake.”
Lucía asked, “Why did you search his office?”
“Because he locked it after we got home.”
“And that was unusual?”
“He never locks it.”
Brenda hesitated.
“His password was Sofía’s birthday.”
Mariana closed her eyes.
Even his security depended on people he betrayed.
Brenda found a folder containing drafted statements.
One accused Mariana of threatening Brenda.
Another described Brenda as a temporary administrative assistant with no personal relationship to Andrés during several relevant financial transactions.
It was false.
Their affair had already begun.
Then Brenda found the file bearing her own initials.
B.M.
Inside were emails documenting money transferred through her mother.
Copies of property deeds.
And a signed statement Brenda had never seen claiming she personally instructed the transfer of the Valle de Bravo cabin.
“He forged your signature too,” Mariana said.
Brenda nodded.
That realization had destroyed the last version of Andrés she still believed.
“I thought he loved me.”
Mariana looked at her for a long moment.
She could have said something cruel.
A year earlier, maybe she would have.
Instead she asked, “Did he tell you he was leaving me before or after he moved the cabin to your mother?”
Brenda’s face collapsed.
“After.”
There it was.
Brenda had not been a partner.
She had been another asset.
Another signature.
Another name he could use.
Lucía finally took the flash drive.
“What else did you find?”
“A recording.”
Everyone stared.
“Andrés records calls with clients.”
“Without telling them?”
“I don’t know.”
“One recording involved Grupo Serrano?”
Brenda nodded.
“And a man named Víctor.”
Lucía’s expression changed.
Víctor Serrano.
The company’s founder.
“What did they say?”
Brenda swallowed.
“They talked about Mariana.”
The recording was short.
Andrés’s voice was unmistakable.
“She found enough to become a problem.”
Víctor replied, “Then make her the explanation.”
“What if she talks?”
“She won’t after the account appears.”
Andrés laughed softly.
“She’ll understand.”
The recording ended.
No one spoke.
Mariana sat in the passenger seat of Esteban’s car, staring straight ahead.
There was something uniquely devastating about hearing your husband discuss destroying you with the calm tone of someone arranging lunch.
Lucía broke the silence.
“This changes everything.”
“We go to the authorities?” Esteban asked.
“Yes.”
“Which ones?”
“More than one.”
Because Ricardo had already tried approaching a federal contact and had been threatened afterward, Lucía wanted redundancy.
Multiple agencies.
Certified evidence deposits.
Independent copies.
Formal documentation of when and how the files were obtained.
“And the children?” Mariana asked.
“We request emergency protective measures.”
Brenda looked at her.
“And me?”
Lucía studied her carefully.
“If you cooperate, tell the truth, and preserve the original evidence, you may be a witness.”
“May?”
“You also benefited from at least one suspicious property transfer.”
Brenda went pale.
“I didn’t know.”
“That matters.”
Lucía paused.
“But you need your own attorney.”
Mariana almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
They separated at seven-thirty.
At eight-ten, Andrés called Carmen.
She answered.
“Mom.”
His voice sounded normal.
Too normal.
“Where are you?”
“At a hotel.”
“With Mariana?”
“Yes.”
Pause.
“You need to step away from this.”
Carmen stared through the window.
“From what?”
“Her manipulation.”
Carmen almost admired his discipline.
He still believed he could talk his way out.
“She showed me the receipt.”
“I explained that.”
“You didn’t.”
“Mom, there are financial things you don’t understand.”
“I understand a signature.”
Silence.
“Andrés?”
“Yes?”
“Did you forge Mariana’s name?”
“No.”
“Did you open an account in her name?”
“No.”
“Did you move the cabin to Brenda’s mother?”
“That was a legal transaction.”
“Did you threaten Ricardo Vega?”
Silence.
Only two seconds.
But Carmen heard everything inside them.
“Who?”
“Don’t.”
Her voice hardened.
“Do not insult me again.”
Andrés exhaled.
“You need to come home.”
“Why?”
“Because this could become ugly.”
Carmen almost smiled.
“It already is.”
“Mom.”
“I saw where your children sleep.”
“They don’t have to live there.”
“Then why do they?”
“Because Mariana wants sympathy.”
Carmen closed her eyes.
He still could not say their names.
Not Mateo.
Not Sofía.
Only “they.”
She understood something then.
Andrés’s greatest mistake was not financial.
It was believing every relationship could be managed like a negotiation.
“You know what I brought yesterday?” Carmen asked.
“What?”
“A cake.”
Andrés sounded confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“I spent two hours choosing your favorite cake because I thought I was surprising my family.”
She looked toward Mariana helping Sofía brush her hair across the room.
“Instead I discovered my family had been hiding from you.”
“Mom—”
“I’m going to tell you something once.”
Her voice became very quiet.
“If you have done even half of what those documents suggest, I will not protect you because I gave birth to you.”
Andrés stopped breathing for a moment.
Carmen continued.
“I will protect those children because you didn’t.”
Then she disconnected.
At that exact moment, in a luxury apartment across the city, Andrés stared at his phone.
Brenda was gone.
Her closet was half-empty.
The home-office drawer had been opened.
And the external drive he kept beneath a stack of legal files was missing.
For the first time since he began planning his exit from Mariana’s life, Andrés felt genuine fear.
Not because his wife had evidence.
Not because his father distrusted him.
Not because his mother had turned against him.
May you like
Because Brenda knew where the second set of records was kept.
And Andrés had no idea how much she had copied.
