PART 1
The sound of a slap echoed through the elegant dining room of their Querétaro home. Rain pattered outside, but inside, the fine china and sparkling glasses seemed to mock Camila. Her husband, Adrián, stood before her, his face twisted in anger.
"If there's no hot meal on this table in twenty minutes, you'll learn who's in charge around here," he snarled, the words stinging like a fresh wound.
Camila felt a familiar ache in her chest. It wasn't the slap that hurt; it was the slow-building understanding that she'd lost her chance to be the wife Adrián needed.
She'd spent 15 hours reviewing financial records, trying to make sense of the discrepancies. All she'd wanted was to come home, take off her heels, and collapse onto the bed. But here she was, facing her family, her heart heavy with exhaustion.
Adrián's eyes flashed with anger. "You're an executive, but you can't even manage to get dinner on the table, can you?"
His words cut deeper than the slap. Camila's eyes met Adrián's, and for an instant, she saw a glimmer of the man she'd fallen in love with.
But it was fleeting. Adrián's face hardened, and he jerked her toward the kitchen. "Get in there and do something useful. And don't come out with your holier-than-thou act."
