When the doors opened with a soft jingle, she smiled to herself. In an hour, it would all be over, but not as they had imagined. Courtroom TR. Court of First Instance.
10:05 in the morning. The courtroom was filled with old papers and irrevocable rulings. Cristina sat down on the honey-colored lacquered wooden chair, feeling her son kick vigorously, as if protesting the tension in the air.
To her right, her lawyer, Jordi Bals, meticulously arranged the documents on the table. His expert hands handled each sheet as if it were a chess piece. Judge Martínez, a sixty-year-old with black-framed glasses and a perfectly trimmed silver beard, leafed through the file with a neutral expression.
He had seen hundreds of divorces, marriages broken down by infidelity, irreconcilable differences, or simple wear and tear, but something about this case had caught his attention during the preliminary reading. “Good,” the judge said, looking up.
We are proceeding with the dissolution of the marriage between Damián Hurtado Mendoza and Cristina Montalvo García. Mr. Hurtado, you confirm your request for a mutually agreed-upon divorce. Damián sat up straight, radiating the professional confidence he had cultivated over the years.
Yes, Your Honor, my wife and I have agreed that the best thing for both of us is to go our separate ways. His hand discreetly found Ruth’s, who was smiling from the front row of the audience like a spectator at the theater of her own victory.
Ms. Montalvo. The judge turned his gaze to Cristina. She fully confirmed. Your Honor, it’s time to close this chapter of my life. Her voice was clear, without a trace of bitterness. Ruth exchanged a triumphant look with Damian.
Everything was going according to plan. Jordi Wals cleared his throat. “Judge, before we proceed with the signatures, we need to address some aspects of the estate that may have been overlooked during previous negotiations.”
Damian frowned. Property matters. He had made it clear from the beginning that each would keep what was theirs: their company, their investments, their bachelor pad in Pedralves.
Cristina could keep her apartment in Leich Chample and her job at the health center. Simple and seamless. “What exactly does ‘lawyer’ mean?” asked Miguel Santos, Damián’s lawyer, a burly man in a mustard-colored tie who was already starting to sweat under his suit.
Jordi pulled a dark blue folder from his briefcase. I’m referring to the corporate documents of Reformas Hurtado SL, the company Mr. Damián registered in 2018. His fingers ran over the papers with surgical precision.
According to the Barcelona Commercial Registry, the company was incorporated with an initial capital of €150,000, entirely contributed by Cristina Montalvo García as a partner. The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Ru stopped smiling. Damian blinked several times, as if the words weren’t reaching him properly. “It’s impossible,” Miguel Santos stammered. “My client is the sole director of the company.”
He signs all the contracts. He makes all the decisions. Indeed, Jordi continued without batting an eyelid. Mr. Damián is listed as the sole director and legal representative, but the ownership of the company’s shares belongs entirely to my client, a perfectly legal structure that allows for the separation of management and ownership.
Cristina watched the scene with an almost Buddhist serenity. Ruth had turned pale, and her hands were shaking slightly as she tried to process the information. Damian, for his part, seemed to have entered a sort of silent state of shock.
“But,” Ru murmured from her seat. “Damien told me he’s the owner, the one who built the company from scratch.” The judge cleared his throat authoritatively. “Ma’am, please, public speaking is not permitted during the hearing.” “How is that possible?” Damien asked quietly.
I work day and night at that company. I got the contracts. I supervised the construction work. Cristina spoke for the first time in several minutes, her voice resonating like a crystal bell amidst the storm.
Do you remember, Damian, when your previous renovation company went bankrupt in 2017? Do you remember coming home crying because the creditors were about to take everything from you? Do you remember when I used Grandma Pilar’s inheritance to save you from ruin?
Damian’s eyes filled with a terrible realization. The €200,000 inheritance Cristina had received upon her grandmother’s death, the money she had given him without hesitation to allow him to start over, the money he had thought belonged to them both.
