“She is a line item on an expense report now,” Teresa retorted. “Look at the numbers. With her out of the picture, the life insurance policy triggers. The double indemnity clause because it was a ‘medical accident.’ That’s three million pesos, Andrés.”
“And the house?”
“Yours. Fully. We transfer the deed the day after the funeral. And Karla can finally move in properly. She’s been waiting in the wings long enough.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird.
Karla Ramírez. Andrés’s executive assistant. The woman who brought me soup when I had the flu. The woman who smiled too wide and laughed too loud at Andrés’s jokes. The woman I had defended when my friends called her “shady.”
“Karla is already asking about redecorating the nursery,” Andrés said, a smile audible in his voice now. “She hates Lucía’s taste. Too… rustic.”
“See?” Teresa purred. “It’s a fresh start. A clean slate. We just wait out the clock. Eighteen more days. We do a small service. Closed casket. We tell her parents it was quick and merciful. No drama.”
“And her parents?”