The Gran Imperial Hotel looked like the kind of place where wealthy
people came to forget that ordinary problems existed.
Crystal chandeliers hung above the lobby.
White marble reflected golden light.
A pianist played near a wall of orchids.
Guests moved between polished columns carrying designer bags and glasses
of champagne.
Alejandro Montero barely noticed any of it.
At thirty-nine, he had spent most of his adult life moving through
expensive rooms.
Luxury had become background noise.
He owned hotels.
Construction companies.
Shopping centers.
Office towers.
His name appeared on contracts large enough to employ thousands of
people.
That evening, he entered the Gran Imperial with Valeria Cruz beside him.
Valeria wore a red dress.
She was beautiful.
Confident.
And three months into a relationship Alejandro still had not decided how
to describe.
She called herself his girlfriend.
Alejandro usually did not correct her.
He had been lonely for seven months.
Loneliness made people accept definitions they might otherwise question.
“Dinner first?” Valeria asked.
Alejandro glanced at his phone.
“Whatever you want.”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“That’s not true.”
“What did I say?”
He looked at her.
She smiled.
“Exactly.”
Alejandro slipped the phone into his jacket.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re always working.”
“I know.”
Valeria hooked her arm through his.
“Tonight, you’re not.”
He was about to answer when a soft voice came from his right.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Do you need help with your luggage or towels for your room?”
Alejandro stopped.
The voice reached somewhere inside him before his mind understood why.
He knew that voice.
He had heard it laughing in his kitchen.
Whispering beside him at midnight.
Arguing with him about whether cilantro belonged in everything.
Saying his name when she was angry.
Saying his name differently when she wasn’t.
For seven months, he had tried to forget it.
He had heard it in dreams anyway.
Slowly, Alejandro turned.
A housekeeping cart stood near the elevators.
Behind it was a woman in a blue uniform.
Her dark hair was tied back.
Her face was thinner.
Her hands were rough.
There were faint chemical burns near two knuckles.
But none of that mattered.
Alejandro stared at her stomach.
Lucía was pregnant.
Very pregnant.
The entire lobby disappeared.
“Lucía.”
She looked at him.
For one second, something crossed her face.
Pain.
Shock.
Then it vanished.
Her expression became professional.
“Is everything all right with the service, sir?”
Sir.
Alejandro felt the word like a slap.
Valeria frowned.
“You know her?”
Alejandro did not look away.
“She is my wife.”
Valeria’s arm dropped from his.
“What?”
Several nearby guests turned.
Lucía gripped the cart.
Alejandro stepped closer.
“Where have you been?”
She said nothing.
“I looked for you.”
Her eyes flashed.
“No, you didn’t.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I hired investigators.”
Lucía laughed once.
It was bitter.
“You hired lawyers.”
“To find you.”
“To threaten me.”
Alejandro stared.
“What are you talking about?”
Lucía looked at Valeria.
Then at him.
“I am working.”
“Please continue to your room.”
“Lucía.”
“No.”
“Seven months.”
His voice broke.
“You disappeared for seven months.”
“You left your phone.”
“Your clothes.”
“Your wedding ring.”
“You left nothing except a message saying you needed to get away from
me.”
Lucía went completely still.
“What message?”
Alejandro stopped.
Valeria looked between them.
The hotel manager hurried toward them.
His name was Gabriel Ortega.
Alejandro knew him.
Montero Hospitality did not own the Gran Imperial, but Alejandro had
negotiated business events there for years.
“Mr. Montero.”
Gabriel smiled nervously.
“Is there a problem?”
Lucía answered.
