—Yes. Because I didn’t intend to get married without you knowing the truth. And because I didn’t want to continue being a coward.
Álvaro Méndez reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.
“We made copies of everything. We also visited a notary in Mexico City and an attorney specializing in probate.” He handed me the envelope. “I didn’t know if you wanted to file a complaint, but we wanted you to be able to choose based on information, not lies.”
I took the envelope without opening it. It weighed very little, but I felt like I was holding a hot stone in my hands.
My mother burst out laughing in disbelief.
—Are you going to destroy your family for money?
This time it was Clara who answered, with impeccable coolness:
—No. You destroyed it when you decided to steal one daughter’s future and buy the other’s obedience.
After that, no one said anything else. There was nothing left to embellish.
The civil judge, who had been standing aside like a lost waxwork, asked in a low voice if the ceremony would be suspended. Clara turned to Álvaro. He looked at her as if she were an equal, not as if she were just an extra.
“Do you want to get married today?” he asked her.
He looked at our parents, then at me, then at the garden filled with unwitting witnesses. He took a deep breath.
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