PART 2: Alejandro Santillan held his breath beneath the king-sized bed in a luxury hotel suite overlooking Manhattan, his cheek pressed against the carpet, his heart pounding so hard he was sure Diego and Mauricio could hear it. The night before his wedding was supposed to be peaceful, maybe sentimental, maybe full of nervous laughter and champagne. Instead, he was hiding like a fool under his own bed, listening to the two brothers he had supported for years discuss how they planned to strip him and his future wife of everything.
The mattress dipped.
Someone leaned down.
Alejandro saw the shadow first, then Diego’s polished shoes moving closer to the edge of the bed. The small white envelope with Valeria’s name on it lay inches from Alejandro’s face, close enough that he could see the faint blue ink and the corner crushed from someone’s hand.
“Where did it go?” Diego muttered.
Mauricio laughed from across the room. “What?”
“The envelope. Isabel told me to give it to Valeria tonight.”
Alejandro’s hand closed slowly around the envelope before Diego could bend lower. He slid it under his chest and stopped breathing.
