Chapter 53 Chapter 53
Chapter 53 Chapter 53
At four in the afternoon, Cavalier went up to the room in the west wing and knocked twice, with two sharp knocks that sounded like those in the early morning but without the same intensity.
“Laura.”
“Cavalier.”
“May I come in?”
“Five minutes, Cavalier, no more.”
She opened the door. Laura was sitting on the edge of the bed with her robe buttoned up, her hair hastily braided, and the bottle of vitamins that Vargas had left for her on the nightstand, still unopened. The test kit was still lying face down next to it.
Cavalier closed the door behind him and stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets and jaw clenched.
“Laura, I came to talk to you.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“I shouldn’t have asked about Vargas without telling you first and without waiting for you to bring up the test. That was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Fine, I accept your apology.”
“Laura.”
—Cavalier.
—Is that all?
“That’s all I need to say to you for today.”
Cavalier took a step toward her; she raised her left hand and stopped him in his tracks a meter from the bed.
—Cavalier, I’m going to tell you something, and I’m only going to say it once because I can’t bring myself to repeat it.
—Go ahead.
“I don’t want to see you for three days.”
“Laura.”
“Three days, Cavalier—not in the suite, not at the clinic, not at breakfast, not in the studio hallway, and not in the covered garden. If we run into each other on a corner, you turn around and avoid me, and if I run into you, I’ll do the same. Okay?”
—Laura.
—All right, Cavalier, I’m not asking you—I’m warning you.
—Three days?
—Three days.
—Why three?
—Because three is how long I need to think without having your face right in front of me—no more, no less. If I need more time, I’ll let you know on Tuesday. If I need less, I’ll let you know sooner.
—All right.
—“Okay” as in no discussion?
—No arguments, Laura. I’ll give you the three days.
—Okay.
Cavalier didn’t move for three seconds, then turned toward the door, but before leaving, he paused with his hand on the doorknob.
—Laura.
“Cavalier.”
“Just one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“The child?”
Laura held his gaze for five seconds.
“The child is with me, Cavalier, twenty-four hours a day, for the next three days. If Vargas says anything, you’ll hear it from Vargas. If anything happens to me, you’ll hear it from Marcela. But don’t ask me anything during this time.”
—All right.
He left.
He closed the door behind him with the same calmness with which he had entered.
Cavalier slowly descended the staircase in the west wing, the scar on his chest tugging at him as if it knew he wouldn’t be sleeping in his own bed that night. When he reached the landing on the second floor, Marcela was waiting for him, standing by the railing with her arms crossed.
“Son.”
“Mom.”
“Study. Now.”
They went downstairs together without speaking.
Marcela closed the study door, locked it, and walked over to the armchair in front of the desk, but she didn’t sit down.
“Son.”
“Yes.”
“Sit down.”
Cavalier sat down.
“Mom.”
“Son, I’m going to tell you what I have to say just once, so listen carefully.”
—Go ahead.
“You’ve been married for forty-one days to a woman who saved your life without knowing you’d become her husband. You’ve been awake for thirty-seven days by her side. You’ve spent the last two nights sleeping in a hotel because you saw a kiss you didn’t know how to interpret, and since last night, you’ve been dealing with a pregnancy that you found out about before she did because you just felt like knowing sooner. Is that what’s going on?”
—That’s what’s going on, Mom.
—All right. And now you’re going to explain to me, son, what made you think that woman was going to keep putting up with you as if nothing had happened.
—Mom.
“Be quiet, Ethan, I’m not done yet. I put up with your father for thirty-two years, son. Thirty-two. And I put up with him because your father, with all his flaws, never—not even once in those thirty-two years—hid anything of mine from me before it was time. My body, my children, my home, my friends—he made sure I knew about those things first. We argued about everything else a hundred times, but not those things. And you, in thirty-seven days, have already done it three times.
—Mom.
“Three times, Ethan. Once in the contract, once on the balcony, and now this. Three times you’ve deprived that woman of her right to be the first to know about her own affairs. If you want that woman to stick around, learn. And if not, son, tell me now so I can get her a passport and personally give her a clean way out of this family, because I’m not going to watch her rot in here while you learn to respect people at the Cavaliers’ pace—which is the devil’s pace.
—Mom.
—That’s all, son. Now it’s your turn to answer me.
Cavalier stood there for three seconds, staring at his hands.
—I’ll learn, Mom.
—Are you learning now, or will you learn later?
“I’m learning now.”
“Good. And the three days he asked for—treat them as if they were three months.”
“I’ll respect them.”
—And for those three days, you’ll sleep alone in the suite and won’t send anyone there—not Vargas, not Gloria, not even me.
—I won’t send anyone.
—Good. Get up.
Cavalier stood up.
“One more thing, son.”
—Yes.
“If, within these three days, you’re tempted to spend another night in a hotel, I swear by the scar on your chest that I won’t open the door to this mansion for you that night.”
“All right, Mom.”
“All right.”
Marcela opened the study door for him and nodded for him to leave, without further farewell.
That night, Laura had dinner alone in her room in the west wing, eating from a tray that Gloria had brought her. Broth, boiled chicken, a chopped apple, and a glass of warm milk—exactly what Vargas had ordered for a pregnant woman with unstable blood pressure after forty hours without a proper meal.
Cavalier had dinner alone in the small dining room with Manuel and Alonso. Marcela didn’t come down; she stayed in her suite with Gloria. The two women had formed a silent pact on Laura’s side.
At 11:30 p.m., Cavalier went to bed in the master suite for the first time in forty-one days without his wife by his side. He left the tracking device on the nightstand. The green dot on the screen was still in the west wing of the mansion, thirty meters away and a world apart.
At 7:10 a.m. on Sunday, Gloria went up to the room in the west wing with a breakfast tray and an envelope on top.
Laura opened the door in her robe, her hair in a braid, sleep still clinging to her eyes.
“My love.”
“Gloria.”
“This arrived twenty minutes ago.”
“What is it?”
“An envelope addressed to you. A courier brought it. No return address. I signed for it.”
—Okay.
Gloria set the tray on the side table and placed the envelope on the tray.
“Anything else, honey?”
“Nothing, Gloria, thanks.”
Gloria left.
Laura closed the door and locked it. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding the envelope in both hands.
The envelope was made of manila paper, with no sender’s name, sealed with gray tape. Her name was typed in the center: Laura Mendoza Cavalier—Private.
She opened it.
Inside was just one thing.
A USB drive.
Silver, unbranded, unlabeled, about the size of a small lighter.
And at the bottom of the envelope, a folded note.
He took it out. He opened it.
A single typed sentence, unsigned.
Laura, listen to this when you’re alone. Don’t tell your husband yet.
Laura stared at the USB drive in the palm of her left hand and the note in her right for three seconds, then four, then five.
She stood up.
She walked to the closet where Gloria had put her laptop the day before. She opened it. She turned it on. She waited the twenty eternal seconds it took to boot up.
When the screen lit up, she inserted the USB drive into the port on the side.
A single folder appeared.
Inside, a single file.
Audio.mp3 — duration 02:47.
Laura placed her finger on the play button and hesitated for three seconds before pressing it.
“Mom.”
Pause.
“Mommy, I don’t know what’s on the other side of this button, but I don’t think it’s anything good.”
She pressed it.