And as I drove toward Coyoacán in the middle of the night, I knew I wasn’t on my way to uncover an affair.
I was about to uncover something far uglier.
PART 2
By the time I got there, the patrol car was already parked outside, and Emiliano was sitting on the curb, damp from the fog, while a paramedic shined a flashlight into his eyes. For the first time since I had met him, he didn’t look charming.
He looked exactly like what he was:
a man collapsing under the weight of his own arrogance.
Lara stepped down from the porch carrying the black suitcase like it held something poisonous. She wasn’t the smug other woman I had pictured in my mind for weeks. She was young, pale, disheveled, and deeply humiliated.
“I’m sorry,” she said the moment she saw me. “I know that doesn’t fix anything.”
“Did you sleep with him?” I asked.
She lowered her eyes and nodded.
“For four months. He told me you were obsessive, that you weren’t really together anymore, that you only still shared the house because of a legal contract.”
