Tomás blinked.
“A year?”
“The first was Estefanía, the one from accounting, remember?” she listed, like someone going over a list of suppliers. “Then the woman from the conference in Cancún. After that, another one I didn’t even bother to identify. I stopped counting after the fourth.”
He slumped into a chair.
“If you knew all that… why didn’t you say anything?”
Jimena clasped her hands on the desk. Her nails were perfectly manicured. He’d never noticed.
“Because I needed time,” she replied. “To think. To document everything. To make sure that when I decided to end this marriage, I’d do it from a position of strength.”
Tomás swallowed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Our life, Tomás.” “The assets, the accounts, what’s mine and what you think is yours.” She looked directly at him. “The house is in my name. My parents insisted when we bought it, remember? I started the investments we have with my inheritance. The car you drive is registered in my name. And since Monday, I own this hotel and two others in the city.”
Zijn hoofd begon op te zwellen.
« Je hebt je erfenis gebruikt zonder het mij te vertellen? »
« Het is mijn erfenis, » antwoordde hij zonder te knipperen. « Dezelfde die je duizend keer wilde gebruiken voor je ‘grote zakelijke ideeën’. Het verschil is dat mijn investeringen werken. Met vriendelijke groet… waren hotels, maar net maar. »
Mariana sprak voor het eerst.
