PART 2
I don’t know how long we waited on that floor. Maybe it was thirty seconds. Maybe ten minutes. Fear makes time go crazy.
When I finally heard the gate close, I barely opened my eyes. The kitchen was empty. Eduardo’s plate was still almost untouched. He hadn’t eaten. Of course not.
—Mateo—I whispered—, to the bathroom. Slowly.
My son crawled, trembling. I followed, dragging my legs like wet sacks. We reached the guest bathroom, and I turned on the tap so the sound of the water would drown out any other noise. Then I did the only thing my nursing training and my maternal instinct were screaming at me to do: I emptied my body.
Mateo was crying while trying to vomit.
—Mom, why did Dad do this to us?
I couldn’t answer him. Not yet. Because if I said the truth out loud, I was going to break down right there.
I tried calling 911, but my cell phone was dead. Not dead. Dead. Wouldn’t turn on. I looked for the home phone. Nothing. The line was cut off.
Eduardo had planned it.
We left through the laundry room toward the garage. I didn’t know if he was still outside, if he was watching us from the car, or if he’d left someone watching. I opened the gate manually, and the screech made my blood run cold. But there was no one there.
—With Doña Lupita—I told Mateo—. Run.
Doña Lupita had lived across the street since before we bought the house. A widow in her seventies, with the temperament of a commander and a heart of gold. Mateo crossed the street barefoot. I followed, staggering, my vision blurry.
When she opened up, it was enough to see us to understand.
—Good heavens! What happened to them?
“Call an ambulance,” I barely managed to say. “My husband poisoned us.”
His face changed. He let us in, locked the car, and dialed.
At the hospital, they confirmed it wasn’t spoiled food. It was a powerful sedative, ground up and mixed into the mashed potatoes. The doctor said that if we hadn’t vomited in time, we might not be alive.
The police went to the house that same night. Eduardo was gone. He had taken the car, cash, documents, and a suitcase.
I thought the worst part was knowing that my husband wanted to kill us. But the dirtiest part was yet to come.
My sister Mariana arrived at the hospital from Querétaro. When Mateo fell asleep, she sat next to me and began to cry.
—Dani, forgive me. I knew something.
I felt a different kind of cold.
—What did you know?
—Eduardo had another woman. I saw her two months ago in Polanco. She was young, about twenty-five. They kissed outside a restaurant. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was just a fling, a stupid macho thing to do.
I ran out of breath.
But she wasn’t just a lover.
Two days later, police found Eduardo at the Cancún airport, trying to board a flight to Belize with a false ID. He had another cell phone, tickets purchased weeks earlier, and bank transfers to a new account.
Then Mariana dropped the bombshell that changed everything:
—The girl’s name is Renata. Her father recently died. She’s going to inherit a lot of money… but her family doesn’t accept men with wives, children, or debts.
That’s when I understood the truth.
Eduardo didn’t want a divorce. He wanted to erase us.
And what they discovered on his cell phone left everyone speechless.
