Chapter 2 — The Anniversary Toast
Evangelina stared at the envelope as if it were something unpleasant brought in from the street.
“What is this performance?” she asked.
Renata folded the stained napkin beside her plate.
“You wanted a toast.”
“I wanted gratitude.”
“You’ve had six years of that.”
Alonso released Renata’s wrist and reached for the envelope.
Renata placed her palm over it.
“Don’t.”
His face remained polite, but his eyes had changed.
There was fear in them.
Not confusion.
Not anger.
Recognition.
His younger brother, Mauricio, noticed.
“What’s in there?” Mauricio asked.
“Nothing,” Alonso said too quickly.
Evangelina looked between them.
“If it is nothing, open it.”
Alonso’s father, Octavio Ibarra, had remained nearly silent throughout dinner. He sat at the head of the table in a charcoal suit, his white hair perfectly combed.
At sixty-eight, Octavio still controlled the family’s construction group, its hotels, and several companies whose official purpose changed depending on which government contract they were bidding for.
He looked at Renata.
“Explain yourself.”
Renata had spent years lowering her eyes when Octavio spoke.
This time, she met his gaze.
“For the last nine months, someone has been using my identity to authorize transactions through companies connected to Grupo Ibarra.”
A fork struck a plate.
Nobody moved.
Renata continued.
“The accounts were opened with copies of my identification. The transfer forms contain my supposed signature. The companies received payments for materials that were never delivered and consulting work that never happened.”
Evangelina laughed.
It was too loud.
“Renata works from a tiny desk in an apartment Alonso bought for her. Now she thinks she understands international business.”
“I understand double-entry accounting.”
Evangelina waved one jeweled hand.
“Oh, please.”
“I understand that seventy-four million pesos passed through accounts connected to my name.”
The laughter died.
Alonso leaned toward her.
“Stop talking.”
Renata looked at him.
“Why?”
“You are confused.”
“Then open the envelope and correct me.”
He did not move.
Octavio’s voice hardened.
“Alonso.”
“It is a misunderstanding, Papá.”
“A misunderstanding worth seventy-four million pesos?”
Mauricio lowered his phone to the table.
He had been trying to record discreetly again.
Renata saw him and almost smiled.
This time, she wanted the camera running.
Evangelina picked up the envelope.
Alonso reached for it.
“Mother, don’t.”
That was the mistake.
Everyone heard the fear in his voice.
Evangelina pulled the envelope away from him.
“What have you done?”
“Nothing.”
She tore open the flap.
The first document was a bank transfer summary.
The second was a shareholder authorization from a company called Desarrollo Horizonte.
The third showed payments to an offshore entity registered in Panama.
Evangelina’s eyes moved rapidly across the pages.
Then she reached the forged signature.
Renata Álvarez de Ibarra.
Evangelina looked up.
“How do we know these are real?”
“The bank certified them this afternoon,” Renata said.
Octavio extended his hand.
“Give them to me.”
Evangelina hesitated.
“Now.”
She passed him the documents.
Octavio read the first page, then the second.
The color drained from his face.
“What is Santa Amalia Holdings?”
Nobody answered.
Octavio looked at Alonso.
“Who owns it?”
Alonso picked up his wine.
His hand trembled.
“I don’t know.”
Renata reached into her handbag and removed another paper.
“I do.”
She slid it across the table.
“Santa Amalia Holdings is controlled by Alonso through two nominee directors. It received more than thirty million pesos from Grupo Ibarra contractors.”
Evangelina turned toward her son.
“Tell me she is lying.”
Alonso stared at Renata.
His expression changed.
Fear gave way to fury.
“You went through my private files.”
“They had my name on them.”
“You had no right.”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Silence settled over the room.
Mauricio’s phone remained pointed at the table.
Evangelina’s anniversary cake glittered beneath the chandelier.
Renata leaned back.
“No right to discover that my husband was using my identity to launder money?”
Alonso stood so suddenly that his chair struck the wall.
“You don’t understand any of it.”
“Then explain.”
“I protected you.”
“By committing crimes in my name?”
“Lower your voice.”
“Why? Is the family embarrassed?”
Evangelina rose.
Her wooden leg struck the floor with a hard rhythm as she moved around the table.
“You ungrateful little snake,” she whispered. “We brought you into this family.”
“You brought in a signature you thought nobody would defend.”
Evangelina raised her hand.
Renata did not flinch.
The door opened before the slap could fall.
Lucía entered with two men in dark suits.
One displayed an official identification card.
“Mrs. Evangelina Ibarra,” he said, “please step away from Señora Renata.”
The room seemed to shrink.
The man looked toward Alonso.
“My name is Investigator Tomás Reyes, Financial Intelligence Unit.”
Alonso’s wineglass slipped from his hand.
It shattered beside his chair.
May you like
Renata looked at the broken glass.
For the first time that evening, nobody laughed.
