She knew.
Of course she knew.
She knew I planned to come this weekend because I told her two days earlier during our mother’s birthday dinner in Veracruz.
She had smiled and told me to enjoy my break.
And then, apparently, she handed the keys to my house to Ricardo’s entire family as if it were some vacation rental.
“Camila,” I called out, raising my voice above the chatter in the room.
“Can we talk for a moment?”
She finally looked up, her face carefully neutral.
“Valeria, I didn’t think you’d actually come. You’re always busy with work.”
“I told you I was coming. I said clearly that I needed this weekend to rest.”
She shrugged casually, a gesture so indifferent that it made my blood boil.
“Ricardo’s family needed somewhere to stay, and the house is usually empty. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
