Then I remembered something else.
A transfer notification from that morning.
A payment of four thousand eight hundred euros had been scheduled from our joint account to an unfamiliar recipient.
Javier had told me it was a business expense.
I slowly opened my banking application.
The transaction was still pending.
The recipient's name appeared beneath the amount.
Rivas Gestión Patrimonial.
Mercedes's family company.
My pulse thudded in my ears.
"Javier," I said, turning the screen toward him, "what is this?"
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He looked at the phone.
And the color drained from his face.
"That's not what you think."
"Then explain it."
He glanced toward the security guards.
"Not here."
"Here is where you decided to humiliate me."
Mercedes reached across the table.
"Put that away."
I moved my phone out of her reach.
"Did you authorize this transfer?"
Javier's jaw tightened.
"We're married. Our finances are shared."
"That wasn't my question."
