For two days, I was the perfect, doting wife. I woke up early to make Carlos his espresso. I ironed his shirts until the creases could cut glass. I smiled when he came home late, smelling of her perfume, and asked about his day as if I didn't know he had spent it in bed with his mistress.
"Katerina," Carlos said over breakfast, not looking up from his tablet. "I need you to pick up a gift for the Japanese investors. Something traditional. Maybe a tea set. And have it wrapped. Use your own money for now, I'll reimburse you."
"Of course, darling," I said, forcing a smile. "Anything else?"
"Yes. Stop by the florist. Get two dozen white lilies. Have them sent to the office."
Lilies. My favorite flower. Or they used to be, before I realized he only bought them because they were cheap and looked expensive.
I did as I was told. I bought the tea set. I ordered the flowers. I even wrote a card for the investors, my handwriting steady despite the rage boiling in my veins.
When I arrived at his office to drop off the gifts, the receptionist stopped me. "Mr. Rivera is in a meeting," she said, eyeing the flowers. "I can take those."
I handed them over. As I turned to leave, I saw the delivery boy walking out of the elevator with a massive bouquet of red roses.
"Delivery for Ms. Luna," he announced.
I froze. Red roses. For her. While I was buying lilies for his business partners.
I walked out without a word.
That evening, I was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. The knife rhythmically hit the cutting board—thud, thud, thud. I imagined it was Carlos's neck.
The front door opened.
"Katerina!" Carlos called out. "We're home."
We?
I walked into the foyer, wiping my hands on a towel.
Carlos was carrying Luna in his arms, bridal style. She had a small bandage on her ankle and was clinging to his neck like a frightened child.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice flat.
"She twisted her ankle at the site visit," Carlos said, breathless but not from exertion. He looked at me with a challenge in his eyes. "She can't walk. She needs to stay here for a few days until it heals."
"Here?" I repeated. "In our house?"
"Yes, here," he snapped. "It was my fault. I was rushing her. The least I can do is make sure she's comfortable."
"Does she not have a home?" I asked, looking directly at Luna. "Or a boyfriend? Or anyone else?"
Luna buried her face in Carlos's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Katerina. I didn't want to intrude. But my apartment is a walk-up... four flights of stairs..."
"She stays," Carlos said firmly, carrying her past me toward the guest room. "And she's hungry. Make enough for three."
I watched them go. The audacity was breathtaking. He was moving his mistress into our home, under the guise of an injury, and ordering me to serve her.
"Fine," I whispered to the empty hall. "Whatever you want."
I went back to the kitchen. I added another portion of pasta to the pot. I stirred the sauce. I didn't poison it, though the thought crossed my mind.
When dinner was ready, I set the table. Carlos came down, alone.
"She's resting," he said, sitting at the head of the table. "She feels terrible about imposing."
"I'm sure she does," I said, pouring him wine.
"Look, Katerina," he said, taking a sip. "I know this is... unconventional. But we have a lot of work to do on the merger. Having her here makes it easier."
"Easier for who?" I asked, sitting opposite him.
He ignored the question. "Speaking of the merger... I need you to sign some documents."
He pulled a thick folder from his briefcase and slid it across the table.
"What is this?" I asked, not touching it.
"Transfer of assets," he said casually, cutting into his steak. "Your father's trust. The Rossi holdings. It's time we consolidated everything under Rivera Corp. It will strengthen our position for the merger."
"Those assets are for Mateo," I said, my hand tightening on my fork. "My father left them for him when he turns twenty-five."
"Mateo is in prison," Carlos said, chewing slowly. "He's a felon now, Katerina. He can't manage a trust. And honestly? Who else is going to look after it? Me. I'm the only family you have left who isn't a criminal."
I stared at him. He had framed my brother to steal his inheritance. It was so simple, so evil.
"If I sign these," I said slowly. "Will you help him? Will you get the charges dropped?"
Carlos paused. He looked at me, assessing.
"If you sign those," he said, "I will make a call. I can't promise anything, but... I have pull. Maybe we can get it reduced to a misdemeanor. Probation instead of prison."
It was a lie. I knew it was a lie. But I had to play the game.
"Okay," I said. "I'll do it. For Mateo."
"Good girl," he said, smiling. "And while you're at it... Luna would love some of that soup. Can you bring a tray up to her?"
I looked at the folder. Then at him.
"Sure," I said. "I'll bring it up. Then I'll sign the papers."
I prepared a tray. I walked up the stairs, my legs heavy. I knocked on the guest room door.
"Come in," Luna called out, her voice weak.
I walked in. She was sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows—my pillows. She was wearing one of Carlos's t-shirts.
"Here," I said, setting the tray on the nightstand. "Eat."
"Thank you, Katerina," she said, giving me a pitying look. "You're so kind. I feel awful about this."
"Don't," I said. "Just eat. And get out of my house as soon as you can walk."
I turned and left before she could respond.
I went to the master bedroom. I sat at the desk and opened the folder.
Transfer of Deed. Power of Attorney. Liquidation of Trust.
He wanted everything. Every last cent my father had built.
I picked up a pen. I hovered it over the signature line.
My phone lit up on the desk. A text message.
Unknown Number.
Everything is ready. The papers are drafted. The account is set up. Meet me in three days at the old warehouse on the docks. Midnight. Come alone. - L
"Three days," I whispered. "Just three more days."
