PART 2
The following day, Sergio called me dramatic.
—My mom has always been like that. She probably cried because you pressured her.
I stared at him, stunned.
—You seriously don’t see what’s going on?
—All I see is that you can’t stand the fact that my mom has her own life.
I let out a laugh, but there was nothing warm about it.
For years, Doña Patricia had criticized everything about me: if the soup lacked salt, if my blouse was too bright, if the children made too much noise, if I visited my mother too often. And now she stayed locked away, obeying a young man who had just appeared, while everyone pretended it was love.
That same afternoon, I went upstairs to gather the laundry. Gael had left his pants tossed over a chair, and a message from my mother-in-law appeared on my phone:
“Wash them well. They have a stain.”
I gripped the phone so tightly it nearly cracked.
When I stepped into the bedroom, I noticed something dark beneath the pillow. A USB drive. I hesitated. I knew I shouldn’t touch what wasn’t mine, but my mother-in-law’s trembling voice from the night before echoed in my mind.
I slipped it into the pocket of my apron and went downstairs.
I waited until I was alone. Then I plugged it into my laptop.
Several video files appeared, neatly arranged by date.
My hands began to shake.
I opened one.
I couldn’t watch it all. I didn’t need to. Just a few seconds were enough to understand. They were intimate recordings of Patricia and Gael. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the moment Gael looked straight into the camera and smiled, fully aware of what he was doing.
This wasn’t a relationship.
It was a setup.
That night, when Gael came back, he tossed his keys onto the table.
—Have you washed my clothes yet?
I stood up slowly.
—How long were you planning to hide it?
His expression shifted for a fraction of a second.
—What are you talking about?
I pulled out the USB drive.
—This.
Gael walked toward me calmly—too calmly.
—Ah, I see. So now you know that if you open your mouth, the whole family will discover the real Patricia.
A chill ran through me.
—You’re disgusting.
He smiled.
—I’m practical. Your mother-in-law has a house, money, and fear. A bad mix for her, a perfect one for me.
At that moment, Doña Patricia came downstairs. She looked ghostly pale.
—Gael… tell me it’s not true.
He didn’t even try to deny it.
—Don’t start, Paty. You know how this works.
Just then, Sergio walked in. He looked tired, confused after work.
—What’s happening?
I spoke before anyone else could.
—Your mother is being blackmailed. Gael recorded her and wants her house.
Sergio looked at his mother.
Doña Patricia opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Gael seized the moment.
—Your wife is making things up because she can’t stand me being here.
And Sergio—my husband—chose the wrong side.
—Lucía, enough. You’re going too far.
It felt like the ground disappeared beneath me.
I didn’t sleep that night. I considered going straight to the police, but then I thought about Doña Patricia—her shame, her fear, the way her eyes pleaded silently. So instead, I called my friend Verónica, a lawyer I’d known since university.
We met at a small café, far from the house.
I told her everything.
Verónica listened without interrupting. Then she said:
—This is extortion. But we need Patricia to agree to speak or at least provide clear proof of the threat.
—She’s too afraid.
Verónica pulled a black pen from her bag.
—It’s a recorder. Just press here. If he threatens her again or asks her to sign anything, you’ll have evidence.
I returned home with the pen hidden, as if I were carrying something dangerous.
That afternoon, I went upstairs to see my mother-in-law. She sat by the window, twisting a handkerchief between her fingers.
—Mom Patricia—I said gently—this isn’t your fault.
She gave a broken laugh.
—Of course it is. I was ridiculous. I thought someone young could love me.
I sat across from her.
—You were deceived. That doesn’t make you guilty.
Her eyes filled with tears.
—If those videos come out, Lucía… I won’t survive it.
I placed the pen in her hand.
—Then help me stop him. You don’t have to fight. Just record what he says.
She stared at it as if it weighed a ton.
—What if he notices?
—I’ll be nearby.
For the first time since I’d known her, Doña Patricia didn’t look at me like an enemy.
She simply closed her fingers around the pen.
That night, I hid near the stairs. Gael arrived around nine, whistling as he went upstairs. The door closed.
Then his voice came through clearly.
—Sign the transfer of the house, Patricia. Tomorrow.
Her reply was barely audible.
—If I sign, will you delete everything?
Gael laughed.
—Don’t be naive. I’ll keep copies, just in case you decide to act brave.
My blood boiled.
—Please, Gael…
—You have two options: sign, or you’ll wake up online tomorrow.
I covered my mouth to keep from screaming.
The next day, I gathered everyone in the living room—Sergio, Doña Patricia, Gael, and me.
I placed my phone on the table.
—Today, we’re going to listen to something.
Gael stayed completely still.
I pressed play.
And when his own voice filled the room, everyone realized that the truth was finally about to tear everything apart.
