Camila let out a small laugh.
“Of course. He never loved me.”
Then he looked me straight in the eyes.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Lucia. Just because you’ve invested money doesn’t mean you’re important.”
I felt a tightness in my chest.
“This money,” I began.
“Money?” he interrupted. “What you gave me is nothing. I earn more than that in a month.”
And there it was.
Right there.
Something had clearly broken.
I looked up.
She wasn’t trembling anymore.
“Then give it back,” I said.
Silence.
Heavy.
Dense.
The entire table froze.
Camila met my gaze. Her lips curled slowly.
“Sorry?”
“The two hundred thousand pesos,” I repeated. “When are you going to pay me?”
My stepmother let out an annoyed sigh.
“Lucía, this isn’t the time—”
“Of course it’s the time,” I replied without looking at her. “I’ve been waiting for five years.”
Diego shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it…”
“Problems?” I looked at him for the first time. “Asking for what belongs to me, is that a problem?”
Camila leaned forward.
“You look really bad.”
“I look even worse,” I replied, pointing to my hair soaked with broth.
A pause.
His gaze hardened.
And then he did it.
He picked up the bowl of soup that was next to him.
And he poured it over me.
Straight.
Without a doubt.
The scalding liquid hit me like a slap.
And the table… erupted in laughter.
I came back to the present.
I was there.
Soaked.
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