That morning, Madrid looked grayer than usual. The sky hung low over the city, dull and heavy, yet my mood felt oddly bright.
My name is Sofia.
Standing in our luxurious suite in La Moraleja, I carefully smoothed the tie around my husband Ricardo’s neck while he stood straight before the enormous mirror.
For five years, that house had witnessed what I believed was a happy marriage.
At least… that was the illusion I lived in until that day.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to prepare anything for the trip?” I asked gently, patting his chest.
“Valencia is quite far.”
Ricardo gave me the reassuring smile I had always trusted—the one that could instantly quiet any doubt in my mind. Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on my forehead.
“No, darling,” he said warmly.
“I’m already running late. The client in Valencia needs an urgent meeting tonight.”
He adjusted his jacket and looked at himself proudly in the mirror.
“This project is important for my portfolio. I want to prove to your father that I can succeed without hiding behind your name.”
I nodded, feeling proud of him.
Ricardo was a hardworking husband.
Or at least… that’s what I believed.
In reality, the company he claimed to be building was funded entirely by me.
The Mitsubishi Montero he drove?
Mine.
The designer suits he wore so confidently? Also paid for with my money.
All of it came from the dividends of the company I had inherited—and now managed myself.
But I never complained.
Because in my mind, marriage meant sharing everything.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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