Jimena clasped her hands on the desk. Her nails were perfectly manicured. He’d never noticed.
“Because I needed time,” she replied. “To think. To document everything. To make sure that when I decided to end this marriage, I’d do it from a position of strength.”
Tomás swallowed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Our life, Tomás.” “The assets, the accounts, what’s mine and what you think is yours.” She looked directly at him. “The house is in my name. My parents insisted when we bought it, remember? I started the investments we have with my inheritance. The car you drive is registered in my name. And since Monday, I own this hotel and two others in the city.”
His head began to swell.
“You used your inheritance without telling me?”
“It’s my inheritance,” he replied without blinking. “The same one you wanted to use a thousand times for your ‘great business ideas.’ The difference is that my investments work. Yours… were hotels, but only just.”
Mariana spoke for the first time.
“Mr. Briones, you will be formally served with the divorce petition tomorrow morning,” she said in a neutral tone. Given the overwhelming evidence of adultery and the record of shared resources used for your trysts, I suggest you hire a good lawyer.
“Evidence?” he repeated.
Jimena opened a drawer and placed a thick folder on the desk.
“Hotel receipts, bank statements, messages, emails, photos,” she listed. “Six months’ work by a private investigator whom, by the way, I paid out of my own pocket.”
Tomás felt exposed.
“You hired an investigator…”
“And I consulted with three different family law firms,” she continued. “I reviewed twelve years of finances, calculated exactly what I’m entitled to and what I’m not. And I came to a very simple conclusion.”
“Which is?”
“That I don’t need you. That I never needed you.”
The sentence hit like a slap in the face.
“You made me believe,” she continued, undeterred, “that supporting your career was more important than mine.” That “the wife of an executive” was a full-time job. I studied hotel management, Tomás. I had job offers when we got married. I turned them down to follow you around the country. I took a chance on you. And while I was giving up my dreams, you were out partying with other women.
For the first time, he felt something akin to real shame.
“Jimena, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know I made a mistake, but we can try…”
“No,” she cut him off, sharply. “What happened last night wasn’t a ‘mistake.’ A mistake is forgetting an anniversary. What you did was a repeated choice. You chose to cheat on me again and again. That can’t be fixed with couples therapy or flowers.”
Mariana stood up and handed him a card.
“Here’s my contact information. When you have a lawyer, have them get in touch,” she said. “The terms are detailed in the lawsuit, but Ms. Briones can summarize them.”
Jimena took a deep breath.
“You keep your car, your retirement account, and your personal belongings,” she listed. “I keep the house, the investment portfolio, and my hotels. You’re responsible for your debts, including the credit cards you used for your getaways. And as for our ‘social circle,’ people will decide who they’re with when they find out why our marriage ended.”
“Are you going to tell everyone?” he asked, alarmed.
“No need,” she replied. “Hotels talk, Tomás. Receptionists, managers, concierges… everyone knows each other. By tomorrow morning, half the world will know you brought your mistress to your wife’s hotel. It’s too juicy a story to keep quiet.”
He stood up, flailing his arms in the air.
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