Using a temporary code assigned by Paulina.
You looked at her.
She stared back defiantly.
“You were never home.”
That was not an apology.
It was an accusation.
Gabriel pulled you aside.
“Héctor, we need to call the police again.”
You looked toward the staircase.
“What about the boys?”
“We get them out first.”
You nodded.
Elena took Santi and Mati to your mother’s house with two guards and no explanation beyond, “Daddy is fixing a grown-up problem.” Santi cried because he wanted Rosalía. Mati asked if Mommy was going to jail too.
No one answered.
Some questions are too heavy for six-year-olds.
When the police arrived, they were not the same officers who had dragged Rosalía away.
Gabriel made sure of that.
He presented the footage. The threat audio. The access logs. The message from Rafa. The video of Paulina planting the bracelet. The evidence of unauthorized access to your private files.
Paulina tried to laugh.
“You people are insane. That bracelet is mine. I can put it wherever I want.”
The lead investigator looked at her.
“Not when you use it to accuse someone else of theft.”
Rafa began sweating.
Good.
Sweat makes cowards honest faster than speeches.
The first officer asked Paulina if she wanted to make a statement.
She looked at you.
For one second, you saw the woman you married. Beautiful, proud, untouchable. The woman who had once held your hand at a gala and whispered that together you looked unstoppable.
Then you saw Rosalía in handcuffs.
Your sons screaming at her feet.
The illusion died completely.
Paulina said, “I want my lawyer.”
By sunset, Rosalía was released.
You went to the station yourself.
Not with cameras.
Not with press.
With Gabriel, your driver, and a guilt so heavy it felt physical.
Rosalía emerged from the back room wearing the same uniform from the day before. Her eyes were swollen. Her hair had come loose from its bun. She looked smaller than you remembered, as if humiliation had folded her inward.
When she saw you, she stopped.
“Señor.”
You walked toward her.
Then you did something you had never done in front of staff, lawyers, or police.
You bowed your head.
“Rosalía, forgive me.”
She began to cry instantly.
You continued.
“I should have protected you. I should have questioned it sooner. My children told me the truth before I was brave enough to see it.”
She covered her mouth.
“I told them I didn’t steal.”
“I know.”
You held out the printed court statement clearing her pending further proceedings, along with Gabriel’s formal notice that your family would cover all legal damages, lost wages, emotional harm, and public correction.
But papers were not enough.
Not for what had happened.
“Santi and Mati are waiting for you,” you said.
Her eyes broke open.
“They still want to see me?”
You almost couldn’t answer.
“They never stopped.”
