PART 9: THE CORRIDOR
PART 9: THE CORRIDOR
Three months passed.
The winter gave way to early spring, the trees along our porch blooming with white flowers.
According to the court-mandated restitution order, I had to sign the final asset transfer papers at the local municipal building downtown.
As I walked down the narrow, polished corridor toward the notary's office, a shadow stepped out from the side alcove.
It was Javier, Paola’s husband.
He looked unkempt, his expensive tuxedo from the engagement party replaced by a wrinkled jacket, his face thin and gaunt.
"Meline," he called out, his voice cracking.
I stopped, my security guard instantly stepping in front of me.
"Let him speak," I told the guard, keeping my distance.
Javier took a hesitant step forward, his hands held out in a submissive gesture. "I just wanted to apologize. I didn't know what Paola was planning that night. I swear I didn't know she locked the door."
"You knew she was unstable, Javier," I said, my voice completely calm. "You watched her threaten me for months, and you stayed silent because you wanted a share of the Valenzuela fortune."
He looked down at his scuffed shoes, tears pooling in his eyes. "They took my apartment, Meline. The receivership seized everything because my name was on the joint accounts. I have nothing left."
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"Then you finally understand how I felt on that balcony," I whispered.
I walked past him without a second glance, my heels clicking sharply against the stone floor.
