“Now you’re leaving,” she replied. “You can’t come back to the house. I changed the locks. Your things are in storage; I’ll send you the address. And tomorrow you start dealing with the consequences of everything you’ve done.”
He took a step toward her.
“Jimena, please…”
“It’s Mrs. Briones,” she corrected him. “Or rather, it will be Miss Jimena Whitmore again. I’m keeping my last name. The woman who waited for you at home for years is gone.”
Tomás opened the door. The lobby seemed bigger, colder. The receptionist didn’t look up. The bellboy opened the front door for him without a word.
Everyone knew.
Out on the street, his cell phone vibrated. A message from Nadia.
I’m sorry, but I don’t want to see you again. Don’t drag me into your problems. Please don’t look for me.
Another message. From Jimena.
I canceled the card you used to pay for the hotel. Figure out how to get to your “conference.” Good night.
Tomás put his phone away without replying. In less than an hour, he had lost his wife, his lover, his home, and his dignity. All because he thought he’d never get caught.