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Fernanda arrived at Naomi’s office without makeup, wearing a loose sweater, looking much younger than twenty-seven. She had no red dress, no gold necklace, no glowing victory. She sat across from Lucia and folded her hands over her belly.
“I didn’t know about the debt,” Fernanda said.
Lucia said nothing.
“I knew he was married. I’m not going to lie about that. He told me you two were done except legally. He said you controlled everything and humiliated him. He said he needed someone who believed in him.”
Lucia’s expression did not change. “And you believed that because it was convenient.”
Fernanda flinched.
“Yes,” she whispered.
At least she had the decency not to deny it.
Fernanda looked at Naomi. “I want to cooperate. Rodrigo asked me to sign invoices for consulting work I never did. He said it was temporary, for tax reasons. He put money into an account under my LLC. I used some of it. I’m not proud. But I have emails. Texts. Voice messages.”
Naomi leaned forward. “Why come forward now?”
Fernanda’s eyes filled. “Because he told me last night that if the investigation gets worse, I need to say Lucia approved everything.”
Lucia almost smiled.
Of course.
Rodrigo did not love Fernanda any more than he loved truth. He loved usefulness. And now that Fernanda had become dangerous, he was preparing to feed her to the same machine he built for Lucia.
Fernanda pulled a necklace from her purse and placed it on the table.
The gold medal.
Evelyn’s family heirloom.
“She gave it to me the night of the party,” Fernanda said. “Then Rodrigo told me to return it after the board meeting because his mother was worried it would look bad in court.”
Lucia looked at the necklace.
For years, she had thought that medal represented acceptance. Family. Legacy. A door she had never been allowed to enter. Now it looked cheap under fluorescent office lights.
“You can keep it,” Lucia said.
Fernanda shook her head. “I don’t want anything from them.”
“Neither do I.”