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.

I’ve lived here too. I’ve put things in this house too.

“We’re not talking about drinks or chairs,” I said.
“We’re talking about five hundred thousand pesos…
and a week in Mexico City at my expense.”

Medina asked to see the watch.
Hector hid the face with his sleeve.

—It’s mine.

—Paid with the company card at 6:42 p.m. on Tuesday, at a jewelry store in Polanco, —I replied. —I also have the hotel, the suits, the dinners, the airport purchases… even the invoice where you gave me my agency’s email for the warranty.

The silence that followed was… the first honest moment we’d shared in years.

The officers informed him he had to accompany them to give a statement.
No handcuffs. No need.
His pride was enough to keep him in line.