“And now,” he said, “everyone will hear the phone call where my own mother ordered my death.”
The recording began.
Doña Teresa’s voice filled the church.
“It has to look like an accident.”
A man answered her calmly.
“If we do it on the mountain road, nobody will investigate too deeply.”
Then her voice came again, cold and final.
“Pay whatever it costs. Once Julián dies, that woman loses everything.”
The church froze.
Even the people who hated scandal seemed unable to breathe.
Then two men beside Arturo stepped forward and revealed their police credentials.
“Teresa Robles de Mendoza,” one officer announced, “you are under arrest for aggravated homicide, fraud, criminal conspiracy, and embezzlement.”
The sound of handcuffs closing around her wrists echoed through the cathedral.
Fernanda collapsed to her knees.
“Mom forced me!” she sobbed. “I didn’t know she would actually kill him!”
Doña Teresa turned toward her daughter with pure hatred.
“Useless girl.”
Even then, even with police holding her arms, she tried to poison what remained.
She looked at my stomach.
“That child will never enjoy any of this.”
Slowly, I bent down and picked up my wedding ring from the marble floor.
My hand shook as I slid it back onto my finger.
Then I looked at the woman who had taken my husband from me.
“My son will grow up surrounded by his father’s love,” I said quietly. “And by the truth.”
For the first time in her life, Doña Teresa had no answer.
