But I thought, I believed those funds were marital assets. They should have been, Jordi intervened. But my client had the prudence to keep them as separate property and use them for a business investment in her name.
Everything had been perfectly documented and recorded. Ru jumped up, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. This is a trap, a plan to ruin our wedding day.
The judge banged his gavel decisively. Order in the courtroom. Madam, take a seat immediately or I will be forced to ask you to leave the courtroom. But Ruth was already running toward the door, her sobs filling the hallway as she fled the reality that had just overwhelmed her like a tsunami.
Damian sat with his gaze lost in space, staring at an undefined spot on the wall. Suddenly, his whole life seemed different. He was no longer the successful businessman who had conquered Barcelona with his work.
He was simply a highly paid employee. At his ex-wife’s company, “Your Honor,” Jordi said in a professional tone, “I request that the divorce proceed according to the agreed terms. Mrs. Montalvo has no interest in changing Mr. Hurtado’s employment situation.”
Under the new circumstances, he can continue to serve as director of the company. Cristina slowly stood up, placing a hand on her swollen belly. She approached the table where Damian was still motionless and leaned slightly toward him.
“This isn’t revenge, Damian,” she whispered. “It’s justice. And justice for our son, who will at least have a secure future.” When she stood up, there were tears in her eyes, but they weren’t tears of sadness; they were tears of liberation.
Courtyard lobby. At 11:15 a.m., Ru Díaz had taken refuge in the women’s restroom on the second floor, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she tried to smooth away the mascara that had run down her cheeks.
Her hands shook as she applied concealer under her puffy eyes. In less than an hour, her perfect world had collapsed like a house of cards. She had imagined this day as the beginning of a new life.
The wife of a successful businessman, the woman who had achieved everything, Cristina had lost everything because of her naivety. But now, it turned out that Damián was nothing more than an impeccably dressed office worker.
Her phone vibrated. A text from her mother. “You’re husband and wife now. I can’t wait to tell the neighbors.” Ruth laughed bitterly. How could she explain to her mother that she’d married a man who had nothing?
How could she explain to her Instagram friends, who had followed every step of her romantic conquest, that it had all been an illusion? Meanwhile, in the main lobby, Damian sat on one of the green marble benches, his gaze lost among the building’s neoclassical columns.
The divorce papers lay on his lap, signed but still damp with reality. Beside him, his lawyer, Miguel Santos, was silently putting the documents back into his briefcase. “How could you not know?” Damian muttered, “more to himself than to Miguel.”
We’ve been working together since 2018. Miguel loosened his mustard-colored tie, visibly uncomfortable. Damian, I only handle construction contracts and insurance. Your accountant, Elena Ruiz, handles administrative matters.
I assumed you were the owner because, well, because you’ve always acted like one, but I have access to all the accounts and make all the operational decisions. This is perfectly compatible with being a manager without being the owner.
It’s more common than you think in family businesses. Damian ran his hands through his hair; his company, his success, his identity… all built on quicksand, without him realizing how blind he’d been.
Cristina appeared in the lobby accompanied by her lawyer and her mother, Sonia, who had come up from the parking lot after receiving an urgent phone call. The older woman looked at her son-in-law with a mixture of sadness and disappointment.
Cristina Damián stood up as she approached. “We need to talk.” “There’s nothing more to talk about, Damián. The papers are signed. I’m not talking about the divorce, I’m talking about all of this,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the documents.
“How long have you known?” Cristina stopped a few steps away from him. Her mother and Jordi kept a discreet distance, but close enough to intervene if necessary. “How long have you known I own the company?”
From the very beginning. I signed all the papers, Damian. I paid the money. How long have I known about your relationship with Rut? Since February; the confession fell between them like a silent bomb.
