My hands didn’t shake as I opened the banking app.

I moved everything—savings, investments, even the money set aside for his “trip to France.” Every cent went into an account in my name, one he never bothered to check. Then I locked it down: passwords changed, cards canceled, access cut.

Only after it was done did the pain arrive—not physical, but heavy with betrayal and sudden understanding. Javier thought he could maintain two separate lives without consequence. That night, I decided one of them would end.

As a baby cried somewhere down the hall—a child who was not mine—I knew this was only the beginning.

Two hours later, my phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. Javier called again and again. I ignored every attempt. I knew that the moment he tried to pay for anything, the truth would catch up to him. My focus was on my son, Mateo, sleeping peacefully beside me, unaware of his father’s collapse.

The next morning, Javier showed up. His eyes were bloodshot, his confidence gone.
“Maria, please… let me explain,” he whispered.