Chapter 5: The Masks Fall Beneath the Marble
The silence that followed my father’s statement was so thick you could feel it in your lungs. It was the silence of a social death sentence.
Doña Graciela, who was still holding the remains of my dress as if it were irrefutable proof, began to undergo a grotesque physical transformation. The red color of anger disappeared from her face, leaving a grayish pallor, almost ashen. Her lips, painted a perfect carmine, began to tremble.
“His… his daughter?” he stammered, looking from my father to me, as if trying to find some physical resemblance that his arrogance had previously prevented him from seeing. “But… that’s impossible. Alejandro told us that Elena came from a family of farmers… humble people… from a small ranch in Coahuila.”
My father let out a dry laugh, devoid of any trace of humor. It was a sound that chilled the blood of everyone present.
“The fact that I know how to work the land and that I like the smell of manure doesn’t mean I’m poor, madam,” said Don Esteban, taking another step toward the center of the room, forcing the guests to part as if it were the Red Sea. “My daughter was raised to know the value of work, not to be a parasite who lives off appearances like all of you. I taught her humility, but it seems you mistook her simplicity for weakness.”
Alejandro stepped forward, his hands outstretched in a pathetic gesture of supplication. His cowardice was now so blatant it was nauseating.
“Don Esteban… sir… I had no idea,” she said, her voice trembling. “Elena never mentioned it… I thought we were a normal couple… I…”
My father interrupted him by raising a single hand. Alejandro was instantly speechless.
“You, young man, are what we call a ‘little man’ in my country,” my father spat out with a contempt that stung more than a blow. “You wear ten-thousand-dollar suits, but you don’t have the courage to defend the woman you swore to protect before God. You stood there watching them undress her. That’s unforgivable, not even with all the money in the world.”
At that moment, Camila, my sister-in-law, tried to discreetly slip toward the stairs leading to the upper floor. Her face was contorted with panic. She knew the situation was spiraling out of control.
“You!” my father shouted, pointing at her.
Camila froze on the first step.
—Don’t move, little girl. We haven’t finished clearing up the “theft” of the necklace yet.
“She did it!” Camila shrieked, her venom resurfacing out of sheer survival instinct. “I saw her! My mother noticed the diamond necklace wasn’t in her jewelry box, and Elena was the only one who had access to the master bedroom. She’s a thief!”
Doña Graciela, seeing an opportunity to salvage some of her dignity, joined the attack.
—Exactly! A family name doesn’t preclude cunning, Mr. Álvarez. Your daughter hid the necklace. We found it among her things. We have witnesses. My guests saw my daughter take the jewel out of Elena’s clothing after… after the dress was accidentally “torn.”
My father smiled. It was a predatory smile, the smile of a man who holds all the cards and is savoring the moment just before revealing his royal flush.
He signaled to one of his men in a suit. The bodyguard, a man with an impassive face, took a state-of-the-art tablet from his briefcase and wirelessly connected it to the enormous 85-inch screen that dominated the room, which the Montenegros used to show off their travels around Europe.
“Mrs. Montenegro,” my father said, crossing his arms, “I’m not a man of empty words. I’m a man of action. Exactly forty minutes ago, when I received my daughter’s call, my lawyers and my security team not only mobilized here, but they also contacted the central office of Alarmas y Seguridad Integral, the company that installed the closed-circuit system in this house.”
Doña Graciela frowned, confused.
—And what does that have to do with anything? That company is private…
“That company,” my father interrupted with icy satisfaction, “is a subsidiary of Grupo Álvarez. I own the security of your own house, ma’am. And my technicians just performed a remote backup of all your cameras from the last three hours.”
The screen suddenly lit up, illuminating the room with brutal clarity.
