Chapter 9
Carlos stared at Diego, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear.
The investigators held him firmly, and after a moment, he stopped struggling.
"Diego," he said, his voice trembling. "I can explain."
"You have a lot of explaining to do," Diego said, his voice cold. "Starting with why you kept Marisol from me for four years. Why you hid her letters, her calls, her pregnancy."
Carlos looked at me, and I saw something in his eyes—guilt, shame, fear.
"I didn't have a choice," he said. "She made me do it."
"Who made you do it?"
"Paulina."
The name hung in the air.
"Paulina?" Diego frowned. "You were working for me four years before I even met Paulina."
"I know," Carlos said, his voice desperate. "But she found me. A year ago. She found out what I had done, and she blackmailed me. She said if I didn't help her, she would go to the police, tell them I had stolen from you, forged documents, embezzled funds. She had proof, Diego. She had records from years ago, things I thought I had destroyed."
He took a shaky breath.
"She said if I helped her take you down, she would make sure I was taken care of. That I could start over somewhere new, with a new identity, enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life."
"And the documents?" Diego asked. "The ones she gave to the press about the company?"
"I forged them," Carlos admitted, hanging his head. "She told me exactly what she needed. I knew the systems, the formats, the signatures. It was easy to make them look real."
"The threats against Marisol? The break-in at Valentina's window?"
Carlos flinched.
"Paulina arranged that. She paid someone to go to the house, to scare the little girl. I told her it was too much, that hurting a child was wrong, but she didn't care. She said she needed to send a message. That you needed to know what she was capable of."
I felt sick.
All of it—the threats, the fear, Valentina's nightmares—had been orchestrated by Paulina.
And Carlos had helped her.
"Why did you do it, Carlos?" Diego asked, his voice quieter now, almost sad. "We worked together for seven years. I trusted you. I thought we were friends."
Carlos looked up, and tears were streaming down his face.
"I was weak," he said. "I had gambling debts. Huge ones. Paulina offered to pay them off if I did what she asked. And then... then she had me. Every time I tried to say no, she threatened to expose me. To send me to prison."
He looked at me.
"I'm sorry, Marisol. For all of it. For keeping you apart, for helping Paulina, for scaring your little girl. I'm so sorry."
Diego turned to the investigators.
"Did you get all of that?"
One of them held up a small recording device.
"Every word."
"And the house?" Diego asked. "Is there more evidence inside?"
"We'll need a warrant to search properly," the investigator said. "But based on his confession, we can get one quickly. And we can take him into custody now."
They started to lead Carlos away.
"Diego," Carlos called back, struggling against the investigators' grip. "I have proof! Paulina kept records of everything. Her plans, the money she paid to the man who broke into your house, the emails between us. They're on a laptop in the house. In the floor safe, behind the painting in the living room. The combination is 12-24-36."
Diego looked at the investigators, who nodded.
"We'll get it," one of them said.
They took Carlos away.
Diego and I stood alone in the backyard, the ocean breeze blowing through our hair.
"It's over," I said, my voice trembling. "We have his confession. We have the evidence. Paulina can't hurt us anymore."
Diego pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.
"It's over," he confirmed. "But it's not just about ending this, Marisol. It's about starting over. The four years we lost. The life we should have had together."
He pulled back to look at me.
"I love you, Marisol. I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day in those four years. And I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To both of you."
He knelt down on the grass, right there in the backyard of Carlos's rented house, and looked up at me.
"I don't have a ring with me. But I'm asking you anyway. Marisol Cruz, will you marry me? Will you let me be the husband you deserve, and the father Valentina deserves? Will you build a life with me—one with no more secrets, no more lies, no more fear?"
Tears were streaming down my face.
Four years of loneliness, of struggle, of fear.
And now this.
"Yes," I said, my voice breaking. "Yes, Diego. A thousand times yes."
He stood up and kissed me, and for the first time in years, I felt completely, utterly safe.
But we still had one more battle to fight.
May you like
Paulina was still out there.
And she wasn't going to go down without a fight.
