While I slept, my husband emptied 500,000 pesos from my account. He went wandering across the city, shopping as though my life were his personal ATM.

The deposit for the apartment—150,000 pesos—was frozen as soon as the court processed the paperwork.
Héctor had intended to vanish in style: a new address, a polished appearance, a romantic story…
and an empty bank account.
His compulsive need to leave a trace when trying to impress someone backfired.

In the weeks that followed, part of the money was recovered through three channels.
First, the funds that hadn’t yet been spent were frozen.
Second, the items bought with the card were seized: the watch, two suits, a leather suitcase, and various accessories that were either still at home or located in an airport storage unit.
Third, disputes were filed for certain charges, and the apartment deposit was returned.

I didn’t recover everything at once…
but it was enough to stop feeling like my life had been completely drained.

Héctor, on the other hand, quickly ran out of options.
Candela distanced herself as soon as she understood the scale of the mess.
Her high-society friends stopped responding when she shifted from discussing glamorous plans to asking for specific favors.

He attempted to negotiate through his lawyer:
to drop the criminal complaint in exchange for a swift divorce…
and giving up any compensation.

Marisol didn’t even let me reply immediately.
She read the proposal, barely smiled…
and returned it.