Chapter 5: The Suit Jacket
The gray dawn light was just beginning to cut through the smog of the city when the heavy iron bolt finally slid back with a loud, metallic clatter. The door pushed open, and Alejandro stepped into the bedroom. He looked terrible. The sharp lines of his dark beard and neatly styled hair were unkempt, and the tailored black suit he wore was the same one from last night, creased at the elbows from a sleepless hours spent pacing his home office downstairs.
He didn't look at my face; his eyes were fixed heavily on the floor, as if he expected the torn photographs to magically reappear. He walked over to the armchair where his jacket hung, his movements mechanical and heavy with exhaustion.
"My mother spoke with me this morning," Alejandro said, his voice flat, devoid of the theatrical fury from the night before. He slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, buttoning the front with stiff, absentminded gestures. "She showed me Dr. Vance’s patient logs. Your chart... it dates back six months. She says your family has a history of these episodes."
I sat up against the pillows, keeping my face carefully neutral, masking the surge of bitter betrayal that threatened to break my composure. He was folding. Esther had spent the entire night feeding him the narrative, polishing the bars of his cage until he was willing to carry them himself.
"And you believe her, Alejandro?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "You believe your mother over your own eyes?"
He stopped buttoning his jacket, his hands resting on his stomach. He looked at me then, a long, agonizing look filled with doubt, fear, and a cowardly desire for things to be simple again. "Valeria, just... just cooperate with the doctor today. For the baby's sake. If you make another scene, I won't be able to protect you from the board, from the family trust, from..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
He turned toward the door, eager to escape the suffocating weight of the bedroom and retreat into the safe, structured world of his office towers where problems could be solved with a checkbook. He reached into his suit jacket pocket to grab his car keys and phone.
I watched in breathless silence as his fingers dipped into the deep inner lining. I saw his hand pause, his knuckles brushing against the crisp fold of the pharmacy receipt and the jagged edges of the polaroids I had tucked there just hours before. My heart stopped beating entirely. If he pulled them out now, if Esther was waiting just outside the door...
May you like
Alejandro frowned, pulling his hand out empty. He grabbed his keys from the dresser instead, casting one last, heavy look in my direction. "Dr. Vance will be here at nine," he said quietly, before turning and walking out of the penthouse, shutting the door behind him.
He hadn't pulled them out. The evidence was still tucked safely inside his lining, riding down the private elevator, walking straight out the security gates, and heading right into the heart of the city—carried by the very man who thought he owned me.
