It was 9:04 p.m., and I was still sitting in my Santa Fe office after thirteen hours of work. A freshly signed $48 million contract lay on my desk—the deal that could save the family company my husband loved to brag about as if he had built it himself. Family
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Julián had told me he was in Guadalajara meeting investors.
Then I opened Facebook.
There he was, dressed in white linen, smiling beneath a flower arch at a hacienda in San Miguel de Allende.
Beside him stood Karla, my youngest assistant, wearing a simple wedding dress with one hand resting on her belly.
The post was from Doña Elvira, my mother-in-law.
“Finally, my son made the right choice. Welcome to the family, Karla. A sweet young woman with the blessing Sofia could never give him.” Family
My phone slipped from my hand.
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