“How… how does she know my name?”

“I know a lot of things,” Jimena said, with a polite smile and hard eyes. “For example, I know this isn’t the first time you’ve come to a hotel with my husband. The Mesón del Río last month, the Continental two months ago. Should I go on?”

Tomás felt the lobby tilt beneath his feet.

“Jimena, this isn’t what it looks like…”

“Oh, isn’t it?” she interrupted. “Because it seems you brought your lover to a luxury hotel using the card linked to our joint account. The same account I’ve been scrutinizing for six months.”

“I know a lot of things.” The receptionist stood frozen, unsure whether to duck or vanish. To one side, in an office doorway, another woman in a dark suit watched the scene, arms crossed, the expression of someone who had rehearsed this moment.

“Have you been spying on me?” Tomás blurted out, trying to regain some control.

“Spying?” Jimena let out a humorless chuckle. “Tomás, you weren’t even creative. ‘Late nights at the office’ that your assistant couldn’t confirm. Weekend ‘conferences’ that your boss never mentioned. Hotel charges on the shared credit card. I didn’t need to spy on you. I just had to pay attention.”

Nadia took a step back.

“I… I’m leaving,” she murmured. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Don’t leave because of me,” Jimena said, her tone stopping her in her tracks. “In fact, you should stay. The room’s already paid for.” Enjoy the spa, order room service, take advantage of all the amenities. Consider it compensation for your time.

“What are you doing?” Tomás whispered, furious.

“To be fair,” she replied. “Nadia didn’t make any promises to you. You did. She deserves, at the very least, a peaceful night. You, on the other hand…”

Nadia looked at her, still trembling.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Briones. I really didn’t know he was married. He doesn’t wear a ring when he travels.”

“I believe you,” Jimena said, this time with a genuine hint of compassion. “It’s not the first time he’s used that trick.”

Nadia snatched the keycard from Tomás’s hand, almost tearing it away, and ran toward the elevators.

Tomás wanted to follow her, but Jimena blocked his path with a single glance.

“Can we talk about this in private?” he asked, his throat dry.

“Of course,” she said, gesturing to the side door where the woman in the dark suit was waiting. “My office is this way.”

The other woman took a step forward.

“I’m Mariana Chen, Mrs. Briones’s lawyer,” she introduced herself with a slight nod. “Good evening, Mr. Briones.”

Jimena’s office was spacious, overlooking Paseo de la Reforma. There were hotel models on a shelf and framed blueprints on the wall. None of that existed in the life Tomás thought he knew.

Mariana sat in a corner, opened a leather folder, and remained silent.

“Since when have you known?” Tomás blurted out as soon as the door closed. “Since when have you known about… Nadia?”

“About her, two months ago,” Jimena replied, sitting down behind the desk. “About your infidelities in general… almost a year.”

Tomás blinked.

“A year?”

“The first was Estefanía, the one from accounting, remember?” she listed, like someone going over a list of suppliers. “Then the woman from the conference in Cancún. After that, another one I didn’t even bother to identify. I stopped counting after the fourth.”

He slumped into a chair.

“If you knew all that… why didn’t you say anything?”

Jimena clasped her hands on the desk. Her nails were perfectly manicured. He’d never noticed.

“Because I needed time,” she replied. “To think. To document everything. To make sure that when I decided to end this marriage, I’d do it from a position of strength.”

Tomás swallowed.

“What are you talking about?”

“Our life, Tomás.” “The assets, the accounts, what’s mine and what you think is yours.” She looked directly at him. “The house is in my name. My parents insisted when we bought it, remember? I started the investments we have with my inheritance. The car you drive is registered in my name. And since Monday, I own this hotel and two others in the city.”

His head began to swell.

“You used your inheritance without telling me?”

“It’s my inheritance,” he replied without blinking. “The same one you wanted to use a thousand times for your ‘great business ideas.’ The difference is that my investments work. Yours… were hotels, but only just.”

Mariana spoke for the first time.

“Mr. Briones, you will be formally served with the divorce petition tomorrow morning,” she said in a neutral tone. Given the overwhelming evidence of adultery and the record of shared resources used for your trysts, I suggest you hire a good lawyer.

“Evidence?” he repeated.

Jimena opened a drawer and placed a thick folder on the desk.

“Hotel receipts, bank statements, messages, emails, photos,” she listed. “Six months’ work by a private investigator whom, by the way, I paid out of my own pocket.”

Tomás felt exposed.

“You hired an investigator…”

“And I consulted with three different family law firms,” ​​she continued. “I reviewed twelve years of finances, calculated exactly what I’m entitled to and what I’m not. And I came to a very simple conclusion.”

“Which is?”

“That I don’t need you. That I never needed you.”

The sentence hit like a slap in the face.

“You made me believe,” she continued, undeterred, “that supporting your career was more important than mine.” That “the wife of an executive” was a full-time job. I studied hotel management, Tomás. I had job offers when we got married. I turned them down to follow you around the country. I took a chance on you. And while I was giving up my dreams, you were out partying with other women.

For the first time, he felt something akin to real shame.

“Jimena, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know I made a mistake, but we can try…”

“No,” she cut him off, sharply. “What happened last night wasn’t a ‘mistake.’ A mistake is forgetting an anniversary. What you did was a repeated choice. You chose to cheat on me again and again. That can’t be fixed with couples therapy or flowers.”

Mariana stood up and handed him a card.

“Here’s my contact information. When you have a lawyer, have them get in touch,” she said. “The terms are detailed in the lawsuit, but Ms. Briones can summarize them.”

Jimena took a deep breath.

“You keep your car, your retirement account, and your personal belongings,” she listed. “I keep the house, the investment portfolio, and my hotels. You’re responsible for your debts, including the credit cards you used for your getaways. And as for our ‘social circle,’ people will decide who they’re with when they find out why our marriage ended.”

“Are you going to tell everyone?” he asked, alarmed.

“No need,” she replied. “Hotels talk, Tomás. Receptionists, managers, concierges… everyone knows each other. By tomorrow morning, half the world will know you brought your mistress to your wife’s hotel. It’s too juicy a story to keep quiet.” Continue reading…