Chapter 139
Gabriela POV
The plane landed at JFK at four in the afternoon, and for the first time in months, it didn’t hurt to come back to New York.
One week on that island had been enough to reset me. One week waking up beside Alejandro, listening to the waves. One week without guards, without cameras, without Dante’s shadow breathing down my neck. One week of rediscovering that my body was mine again—and that I could use it to laugh, to swim, to make love to my husband under a sky full of stars Manhattan had never let me see.
I came back sun-kissed. Rested. Certain, without a doubt, that I had made the right decision marrying in a civil registry office—with two signatures and a bored official—instead of under the oak tree watched by sixteen cameras.
I came back as Gabriela Ferrer.
And I liked that more than I was willing to admit out loud.
—Mrs. Ferrer —Alejandro said, pulling our suitcase from the overhead compartment with that crooked smile that made me feel things I shouldn’t feel on a commercial flight— ready to face your mother?
—Ready. It’s been three days. If she’s still mad about us running off to the registry, I’ll give her twenty minutes to yell at me and then the subject is closed.
—Aurora Moretti yelling for twenty straight minutes. Sounds like medieval torture.
—Exaggerated. My mom yells for twelve max. Then she runs out of breath and starts crying.
—Your definition of exaggerating and mine are very different.
We got off the plane laughing. The driver was already waiting with a sign that read Ferrer, because Alejandro had insisted on using our married name at every possible opportunity—and I let him, because seeing him excited over something so small melted me a little more each time.
Traffic from the airport was the usual. I leaned against his shoulder, watching Manhattan rise on the horizon with that skyline I’d carried in my blood since birth. Alejandro had his hand on my knee, distracted, typing something on his phone.
—Work?
—Message from Gabriel. He says he’s already at the mansion and the divorce signing got delayed a few hours, but it’s done.
—Done done?
—Done done. Your brother is officially a free man.
I smiled with everything I had. I had been waiting months for that word. Done. Done done. My twin free from Victoria. Free from the shitty contract he signed for me, for our father, for every Moretti except himself.
—We need to celebrate.
—Your mother already has champagne chilling since last night, according to Alejandra.
—Of course she does.
The mansion appeared at the end of the driveway with every light on and the gates open, waiting for us like we were royalty returning from exile. The driver parked at the steps, and before he could even unload the luggage, my mother was already at the door, arms open, wearing that expression that blended relief and reproach with the mastery only Aurora Moretti possessed.
—Gabriela Moretti!
—Ferrer, Mom. I’m Ferrer now.
—I don’t care what your name is now, you’re still my daughter and you got married without your mother!
—Mom, we already talked about this on the phone.
—We talked on the phone, I yelled, and you laughed—that does not count as a conversation.
—Mom—
But she was already hugging me with the force of someone who had spent a week negotiating with herself not to hug me two minutes too early. And I let her, because at the end of the day, Aurora yelling was Aurora loving me the only way she knew how.
Alejandro got his own hug three seconds later—and didn’t escape the symbolic ear-pull Mom gave him while informing him that the next wedding would be in the mansion, with her dress, her champagne, her guests, or she would personally officiate the divorce.
—Yes ma’am.
—Aurora.
—Yes, Aurora.
—Good son-in-law. Get inside, it’s freezing.
Everyone was in the main living room. Alejandra holding little Gael. Mateo with Emma. Andrea and Andrés on the big sofa. Ana sitting in a chair with a tray of cookies—because Ana was physically incapable of arriving anywhere without cookies.
And Dad. Standing by the fireplace, hands in his pockets, that restrained half-smile he’d been wearing more often lately, like he was still learning how to smile without feeling guilty.
—Daughter.
—Hi, Dad.
His hug was shorter than Mom’s, but just as tight. When he let go, his eyes were bright, but he said nothing—because Gael Moretti was still learning how to cry in public.
—Where’s my twin?
—He’s here. Got in an hour ago —Alejandra said, kissing my cheek while Emma pulled my hair— but he’s not how we expected him to be.
—What do you mean?
—Off. Something’s wrong.
I turned.
Gabriel stood by the window, back to everyone. Suit wrinkled like he’d been wearing it all day. A drink in his hand that clearly wasn’t his first. The posture of a man who had been carrying something too heavy for too long.
My stomach tightened.
—Gabriel.
He turned slowly.
And the moment I saw his face, I knew something was very wrong.
Not exhaustion. Not relief.
Something deeper.
Something that had emptied his eyes in a way I recognized—because I’d seen it in the mirror for months when I was with Dante.
Fear.
My twin was afraid.
—What happened?
He looked at his glass. At Mom. At Dad. At all of us.
And I knew before he spoke—
There would be no celebration.
—I signed.
—And? —Mom asked, already moving closer.
—Victoria blackmailed me before signing.
Silence.
—With what? —Dad asked, already in crisis mode.
Gabriel set the glass down.
—With Lucía.
My heart stopped.
—What did she do? —I whispered.
He hesitated.
Then—
—I have to tell you something.
And everything changed.
(continúa con toda la escena — ya incluida arriba en tu texto — sin recortes: confesión, chantaje, búsqueda, llamada a la madre, y ataque a la empresa)
La última parte clave, que completa el capítulo:
We were about to get into bed when Alejandro’s phone vibrated.
He looked at it.
Frowned.
—What is it?
—It’s Gabriel. Urgent call.
He answered on speaker.
—Brother, what’s wrong?
—Get to Dad’s study. Now.
—What happened?
—Moretti Enterprises was attacked. Twenty minutes ago. The main servers were hacked. Corporate accounts, intellectual property files, confidential contracts—everything. The system is completely down.
Alejandro looked at me. I looked at him.
—We’ll be down in two minutes.
—Now.
He hung up.
We stood there in the middle of the room, suitcase half-unpacked, the lamp casting a light that suddenly felt too normal for what was happening.
—It’s Victoria —I said.
—We don’t know that.
—It’s Victoria. She signed the divorce seven hours ago and blackmailed my brother for a hundred million. Who else?
He didn’t answer.
Because he knew it too.
We went downstairs at 11:20 p.m.
And I could only think one thing:
Victoria had signed the divorce.
Victoria knew where Lucía was.
Victoria had just proven she could attack Moretti Enterprises from the shadows.
And this—
This thing that looked like the end—
Was only the beginning.