Valeria Montaño’s piercing scream shattered the silence inside the armored SUV like a rusty blade. Emiliano Ferrer slammed on the brakes instinctively. The tires screeched against the broken asphalt and a cloud of dust rose around the black vehicle.
“Look over there,” Valeria snapped, leaning over the dashboard with eyes blazing with contempt. “That starving woman… your ex-wife.”
Emiliano turned his face toward the roadside.
And the world stopped.
A few meters away, under the relentless sun of a rural road in Hidalgo, stood Lucía.
She was no longer the radiant woman he had once loved. She was no longer the elegant wife he had escorted arm-in-arm through hallways of glass and marble.
The woman standing there looked like the reflection of a shattered life: worn-out clothes, sandals nearly falling apart, brown hair half-tied, sun-scorched skin, and exhaustion etched deep into her face.
But there was something more.
Something that made Emiliano’s hands begin to tremble on the steering wheel.
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