Chapter 2 - THE EXTRA TABLE
“That’s not my signature.”
Javier stood so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
“She forgets things when she’s upset.”
One guard stepped between us.
“Sir, remain where you are.”
“I’m her husband.”
“I heard you.”
Mateo asked whether I wanted to wait in his office.
I nodded.
Mercedes caught my wrist as I passed.
Her fingers were cold and surprisingly strong.
“Think carefully before you destroy this family.”
I looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
For a second, she didn’t.
Then she noticed the guard watching.
Inside the office, Mateo brought me water and a clean towel.
I couldn’t stop shaking.
Not delicate trembling.
My teeth knocked against the glass.
“Take your time,” he said.
“What’s in that room?”
He hesitated.
Then he placed the itemized receipt on the desk.
Ten guests.
Champagne.
A fixed tasting menu.
A celebration cake.
Printed beneath the reservation was a company name.
MORALES LANGUAGE SERVICES.
My company.
I had built it at our kitchen table with a secondhand laptop and clients who paid late.
Javier called it my little translation thing.
Yet apparently it was large enough to sponsor a party I knew nothing about.
“Who booked this?”
“Your husband arranged it with our events coordinator.”
“What was the occasion?”
Mateo’s expression changed.
“His mother’s business launch.”
I stared at him.
Mercedes had spent dinner telling me I needed ambition.
Apparently, she had financed hers with mine.
A police officer arrived with her colleague before I could speak.
Officer Ortega asked me to describe what happened.
I did.
Plain words.
He threw wine.
He threatened me.
He tried to take my phone.
Saying it without excuses made my stomach turn.
Ortega asked whether I felt safe returning home.
“No.”
It was the first honest answer I had given about my marriage in months.
Outside the office, Javier’s voice rose.
“She agreed to pay! Ask my mother!”
Mateo closed the door.
“We have retained the relevant camera recording,” he told the officer. “The original reservation emails are being preserved as well.”
I called my sister, Elena.
She answered on the second ring.
“Clara?”
“Can you come get me?”
Her voice sharpened.
“Where are you?”
While I gave her the address, my phone buzzed with an email notification.
A lender had sent a payment schedule.
Thank you for choosing flexible financing for your business.
I opened the attachment.
A €30,000 loan.
My company’s name.
May you like
My personal guarantee.
And the same almost-right signature.
