—Nadie se va a burlar de tu memoria. Nadie.

A la mañana siguiente, el sol salió como si la tormenta nunca hubiera pasado. Me puse un traje blanco impecable, tacones que resonaban como un toque de difuntos y gafas de sol oscuras. Mi cabello, que siempre había llevado recogido, caía en ondas perfectas. Cuando bajé al vestíbulo, Arturo ya estaba listo.

—El banco es suyo, señorita —me informó—. La transferencia se completó a las seis de la mañana. Usted es la dueña de la hipoteca de la casa de Garza. Llevan tres meses de retraso.

—Ejecuten la cláusula de aceleración. Veinticuatro horas para pagar todo o desalojar. Envíen el aviso ahora.

-Hecho.

Luego fuimos al edificio de Logística de Garza. El letrero de entrada estaba desgastado. Roberto jamás lo habría permitido. Carlos lo había descuidado todo.

Entré. La recepcionista, la misma que me había mirado como si fuera polvo, ni siquiera me reconoció.

—Tengo una reunión con el señor Carlos Garza —dije con firmeza—. Represento a Vanguardia Holdings.

Su mirada bajó a mi bolso, luego a mi traje y tragó saliva.

—S-sí… pase, por favor. Sala de juntas.

I walked down the hallway and heard voices behind the door.

“You have to convince them, Carlos,” Berta said. “We need that money. That starving woman is sure to ask for alimony. We have to protect our assets.”

—Relax, Mom. These investors are foreigners. I’m selling them a bill of goods and they’re giving us capital.

I opened the door without knocking. The silence fell like a ton of bricks.

Carlos was at the head of the table with his feet up. Berta was touching up her makeup. Lucía was on her phone. They turned around and I saw confusion: an elegant, powerful woman. It took them a full five seconds to recognize my face.

Carlos lowered his feet abruptly.

—Elena? What are you doing here? How did you get in? Security!

I sat in the president’s chair, with the calm of someone who has already made the decision.

—Don’t call security, Carlos. I’m here for the meeting.

“What meeting?” Berta stood up, red with rage. “We kicked you out yesterday! Did you steal those clothes? Are you… prostituting yourself?”

I let out a soft laugh, but it wasn’t joy.

—Sit down, Berta. And be quiet. I’m here representing Vanguardia Holdings. The investors you were desperately waiting for to save this sinking ship.

Carlos turned pale.

—Do you work for them? Did they hire you as a… secretary?

I looked him straight in the eye.

“No, Carlos. I am them.”

Lucia let out a nervous giggle

—Oh, Elena. You’re a poor librarian. Roberto picked you up off the street.

“Roberto loved me,” I corrected, and something inside me broke at that sentence, but I didn’t let myself fall apart. “And I hid who I was to make sure that he loved me, not this.”

I touched the tablet and projected a bank statement. Not the one I shared with Roberto. Mine.

The number filled the screen like a punch:

$2,800,000,000.00

Carlos gasped, gasping for air. Berta held onto the table to keep from falling

“That… that’s impossible,” he stammered.

“I’m Elena Van der Hoven,” I said. “And I just bought this company’s debt. Carlos, I have audits. I have proof of your embezzlement, your trips, your gambling while your employees waited for paychecks.”

Carlos trembled.

—It can be explained…

—I’m not interested. You have two options: I sue you for fraud and you rot in jail… or you sign the complete transfer of the company now. You relinquish any rights to Roberto’s legacy and leave with nothing

“You can’t!” Lucia shrieked. “It’s our company!”

“It was Roberto’s company,” I replied. “And you were killing it.”

Arturo placed the documents in front of Carlos. Outside, in the hallway, two men in suits were waiting: they weren’t bodyguards. They were auditors and financial authorities, ready to enter if I snapped my fingers.

Carlos looked at his mother. Berta was defeated. For the first time, I saw her without any makeup on the inside: just hunger.

With trembling hands, Carlos signed.

When the last paper was sealed, I put everything in my folder.

—Now—I said—, get out. Out of my company.

Berta tried to change her tone, to become sweet, manipulative.

—Hija… no lo sabíamos. Éramos familia. Roberto querría que estuviéramos juntos. Tienes tanto… podrías ayudarnos.

La miré y sentí como si la lluvia de la noche anterior volviera a caer sobre mi cara.

—Ayer me echaste a la calle bajo la lluvia. Me llamaste muerto de hambre. Dijiste que solo era un pasatiempo.

Me levanté y caminé hacia la puerta.