The door closed with a soft but definitive click, like the sound of a new life beginning. Damian and Rut’s apartment in Pedralves. 7:45 PM. The two-bedroom apartment in Pedralves smelled of cheap champagne and broken dreams.
Ruth had tried to create a romantic atmosphere with ivory candles and rose petals scattered on the floor, but the reality of her new financial situation had turned the party into a bittersweet farce.
The glasses were plain crystal, not Baccarat as she’d dreamed. And the champagne was a cheap Mercadona cava, not the Dom Pérignon she’d imagined for her wedding night.
Damian sat on the charcoal gray sofa, still wearing the wrinkled shirt he’d worn that morning, staring at his phone with a somber expression. Bills piled up on the coffee table: rent, electricity, water, internet… expenses that had once seemed insignificant, when he thought he had a thriving business, but now loomed like threatening mountains.
“Are you going to sit there all night?” Ru asked from the kitchenette, where she was trying to prepare a romantic dinner with the few ingredients they’d found in the refrigerator. “This is supposed to be our special day.” “Special.” Damian looked up.
“Ruth, do you realize what happened today? I have nothing, absolutely nothing. I’m an employee of my ex-wife.” Ruth approached with two plates of pasta with tomato sauce, trying to maintain a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“But we’re still together. That’s what matters, right? Love conquers all.” Before Damian could answer, the doorbell rang insistently. Three long rings followed by three more.
Ru frowned and walked over to the intercom. “Who is it?” “Express courier service. Registered mail for Damián Hurtado and Ruth Díaz.” Ruth exchanged a worried look with Damián, who would be sending them the registered mail on their wedding day.
“Come in,” she said, pressing the button. Five minutes later, a uniformed deliveryman handed them a padded brown envelope with the logo of Elena Ruiz’s agency. Damian signed the receipt with shaking hands, sensing that whatever was in that envelope wasn’t going to make his day any better.
Once they were alone, he carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a 12-page spiral-bound report with a handwritten note from Elena on the first page. “Damián, Cristina asked me to deliver this to you by 8:00.”
We need to talk tomorrow morning as soon as we wake up. Elena Ruth approached from behind, reading over her shoulder. What’s that? Damian turned the page and began reading.
With every line, her face paled. The transfers, the expenses, the invoices: everything was there, documented with surgical precision: dates, amounts, descriptions, every single euro she’d borrowed from the company over the past eight months.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. Ruth snatched the document from her and began reading aloud. Transfer to Ru Díaz Moreno’s account, €5,625. Subject unspecified.
Her voice grew weaker as she walked. Suñer jewelry bill, €3,200. Description: White gold bracelet with diamonds. She looked at Damian with mounting horror. Apartment expenses on Vinguda Diagonal, €2,800 per month for eight months.
Damian sank deeper into the sofa, as if the skin might swallow him whole. I know, I know everything, but this is theft. Ruth frantically flipped through the pages. How could you do this without telling me?
Without telling you? Damian looked at her in disbelief. Ruth, you knew exactly where the money came from. Did you think I had a hidden gold mine? I thought the company was yours.
You told me it was all yours, and I believed it. Damian stood up and paced. Until this morning, I also thought it belonged to my company, but apparently, all these years, I’ve just been an employee with access to the safe.
Ru continued reading, his voice rising. Total stolen funds: €79,847. According to Article 252 of the Spanish Penal Code, stealing sums exceeding €50,000 constitutes a serious crime.
He dropped the report as if it were poison. A serious crime. A serious crime. Calm down. Don’t tell me to calm down. We just got married, and it turns out my husband is a criminal. Damian approached the window, watching the lights of Barcelona begin to twinkle in the dusk.
From the ninth floor, the city looked like an illuminated chessboard, and he had just realized he’d been a pawn the entire game. Ru, we need to think.
We need to find a solution. What kind of solution? Ruth had started crying, her makeup running for the second time that day. How are we going to repay almost €80,000? Where are we going to find that money?
I don’t know, but there has to be a way. A way. Ruth wiped her tears with the back of her hand. The only way is for Cristina to decide not to report you.
And after what we did to her, why would she do that? Damian turned to her and, for the first time since he’d known her, he saw something resembling real fear in Ruth’s eyes.
Not the calculated fear she used to get what she wanted, but genuine terror. We could talk to her, explain the situation, offer her a payment plan. A payment plan. Ru laughed bitterly.
