Chapter 3
Sofia woke up screaming at 7:42 a.m.
I ran into the bedroom and found her thrashing in the bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, her hands flailing at the air.
“No!” she was shouting. “No, please, I won’t sign it! Please stop hitting me!”
I grabbed her shoulders.
“Sofia! Baby, wake up! You’re safe! You’re home with me!”
Her eyes flew open. Wild. Terrified. For a second she didn’t recognize me. She scrambled backward until she hit the headboard, pulling her knees to her chest.
Then she saw me. And the fight went out of her.
She dissolved into sobs.
I climbed onto the bed and held her. Her body was racked with shudders, her heart hammering against my chest like a trapped bird. Alexander stood in the doorway, his face like stone.
“Make it stop, Mom,” she cried into my shoulder. “Please make the images go away. Every time I close my eyes I see her face. I hear her laughing. I hear Javier’s voice through the door.”
I stroked her hair.
“I know, baby. I know. But you’re safe now. Nothing is going to hurt you ever again.”
I glanced up at Alexander.
He nodded once, turned, and walked out. I heard him speaking quietly on the phone in the living room.
Across town, in a penthouse suite at the Ritz-Carlton, Carmen Robles was drinking her morning coffee and reading the society pages.
She was pleased with herself.
The girl had been stubborn, yes. But she’d learned her lesson. Forty slaps had a way of teaching respect. By next week, the condo papers would be signed. Within six months, the rest of the family money would follow.
Carmen had worked too hard for too long to let some little rich girl stand in her way.
She’d grown up poor. Had three jobs by the time she was sixteen. Married a weak man who’d died young and left her with nothing but a baby boy and a mountain of debt. She’d clawed her way up. Made sacrifices. Used every tool she had—her looks, her charm, her willingness to do what other women wouldn’t.
And now her son was a lawyer. Married into money. Set for life.
All because of her.
Javier stumbled into the dining room, rubbing his eyes. He was still in his tuxedo pants and a wrinkled dress shirt. He looked terrible.
“Where is she?” he asked, pouring himself a scotch at nine in the morning.
“Who?” Carmen said, not looking up from her paper.
“Sofia. She was gone when I woke up. Her phone is off. I’ve been calling her for two hours.”
Carmen smiled.
“Probably gone to her mother’s to lick her wounds,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll be back. They always come back once they realize there’s nowhere else to go.”
Javier paced the room.
“I don’t like this, Mom. What if she calls the police? What if she presses charges?”
Carmen laughed. A sharp, barking sound.
“Press charges? Against me? With what proof? That hotel suite was booked in your name. No security cameras inside the room. The girls who helped me won’t say a word—I pay them too well. And who are they going to believe? A hysterical new bride with a vivid imagination? Or me? A respected member of this community?”
She took a sip of coffee.
“Besides,” she added, “we made ourselves very clear. If she goes to the police, she dies. And she knows I mean it.”
Javier stopped pacing.
“Did you have to hit her that many times?” he said quietly. “I could hear it through the door. The sound of her face… it was awful.”
Carmen stood up and walked over to him. She slapped him—hard—across the face.
“Don’t you ever show weakness in front of me,” she hissed. “That girl has eighteen million dollars in assets behind her. That condo alone is worth almost two. You think she would’ve just handed it over because you asked nicely? People like us don’t get what we want by being nice. We take it.”
She straightened his collar.
“Now pull yourself together,” she said. “We have the brunch with the wedding party in an hour. Put on a happy face. Tell everyone Sofia had too much champagne and is sleeping it off. By tomorrow, she’ll be back. And by the end of the month, that condo will be in your name.”
Javier nodded slowly.
His mother was right. She was always right.
He went to shower.
Carmen walked to the window and looked out over the city. She loved this view. She’d earned it.
Her phone rang.
It was her realtor.
“Carmen, I have those listings you asked for. The ones in Highland Park. Four bedrooms, pool, guest house. Exactly what you wanted.”
Carmen smiled.
“Perfect,” she said. “Start the paperwork. I should have the down payment by next Friday.”
She hung up.
Everything was going according to plan.
May you like
She had no idea that, twenty minutes away, three of Alexander’s analysts were already deep into her financial records.
They’d found the first skeleton in her closet before she finished her second cup of coffee.
