Semua Bab Till Betrayal Do Us Part: Ex-Husband, Ex-Heartbreak: Bab 11 - Bab 20

We were halfway through dinner when Alejandro set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. I knew whatever he was about to say would be bad. I didn’t look up. I’d been swirling the same bite of food around my plate for the past ten minutes, pretending I had an appetite.“There’s been a development”.I looked up from my plate. “What kind of development?”He tapped his fingers against the edge of the table. “The truck driver. They caught him.”For a second, I felt a flicker of hope, but it died just as quickly when I caught the way his jaw tightened. “And?Alejandro exhaled, his frustration evident. “His name was Ramon Ortega. He used to work for the Valdez family. He was Marco’s late father’s driver for years before his passing.”The fork slipped from my hand, clattering loudly against the plate. “So I was right, it wasn’t an accident.”“No,” he said. “It was deliberate.”The room tilted slightly, like the air had been sucked out of it. My hands gripped the edge of the table, my kn

“Out of my way! Do you have any idea who I am?!” Every head turned. My stomach dropped as I saw her—regal in the worst way, with her pristine pearl suit and a face twisted in fury. Security was scrambling to hold her back, but she bulldozed through them like a woman possessed Behind her, Marco stumbled in, looking less like the polished businessman I once knew and more like an unhinged, sweaty mess. His suit jacket half hanging off his shoulders “Oh my God,” I muttered. Alejandro stiffened beside me, his jaw flexing as he ordered , “Stay close.” “Oh, don’t mind me!” Helena spat, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. “I just came to witness this little farce for myself. A sham wedding for a shameless woman!” She pointed at me like I was the plague, and I could feel the heat of a hundred eyes turning in my direction. “Mrs. Valdez,” Alejandro started, his voice cold and steady, but Helena was already charging ahead. “This gold-digger! This whore who ruined my

Marco sat on the edge of his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating his face. He was scrolling—no, swiping—through pictures of Alejandro and Estella’s wedding. His thumb paused on a shot of Estella stepping out of the car, her dress catching the light just right. She looked composed, regal even, but Marco’s blood boiled because he knew that smile was real. Alejandro stood beside her, his hand on her back like she belonged to him.Another picture. Estella laughing at something Alejandro said. Another. Alejandro bending slightly to whisper in her ear.Estella was supposed to only look at him like that. She was supposed to be his—yet here she was, practically glowing next to a man who clearly worshipped her“Still drooling over your ex-wife? How pathetic,” Claudia’s voice came behind him as she stepped into the room, her stiletto clicking against the floor.Marco didn’t turn, didn’t respond. He took a long swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand, his eyes still glued to the screen.S

“And my role in all this?”“The accident”“What about it?” I asked hesitantly.“The truck driver who died, Ramon Ortega That’s our linchpin. If we can prove Marco or Helena orchestrated it, it’ll be the final nail in the coffin.”“How do we do that?”“Ramon worked for Marco’s late father. That’s where the connection starts, but it’s not enough. We need more than a paper trail—something concrete.”I frowned, frustration bubbling to the surface. “How do we prove they were behind it? It’s not like they’re going to leave a signed confession lying around.”“We dig, Estella. Payments, phone calls, emails. Somewhere, there’s a trail that leads back to them. Always. They will have left traces—loose ends that connect them to the crash.” “Marco’s not careless. He wouldn’t have left evidence lying around.”“No,” Alejandro agreed, “but Helena might have. She’s reckless when she thinks no one’s watching. And she has a habit of trusting the wrong people.I thought back to the night of the accident

“Let me see,” I said, stepping closer. Alejandro glanced at me. “Curious?” “Let’s just say I want to watch this house of cards collapse.” He smirked, sliding his chair back so I could lean in. “Marco siphoned off over $50 million over the last five years,” he said, pointing to a file on the screen labeled Luxury Expenses. “Gambling debts Monaco, private jets, questionable offshore accounts. He’s been covering his tracks with falsified audits.” “And this is all going out?” Alejandro nodded. “I sent the files to a few key investors and news outlets. By now, they’re waking up to the kind of headline that makes stock prices tank.” As if on cue, the notifications on his phone light up like a Christmas tree. He checked it, lips curling into a satisfied grin. “The first article just went live. By lunchtime, Marco will be drowning.” I leaned against the desk. “Does he know yet?” Alejandro tilted his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Let’s hope not. I want him blindsided.” By noon,