Raúl ended the call and turned back toward the group.
Fernanda grabbed his arm. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He pulled away. “The cards are temporarily blocked.”
“Temporarily?” she repeated. “The hotel said the honeymoon suite payment failed. The car rental called me too. They said the card on file was declined.”
Lupita spun toward you through the camera. “You vindictive woman!”
You opened the door halfway, chain still latched.
“I canceled cards in my name after receiving a text from my husband saying he married another woman. That is called financial hygiene, not revenge.”
Raúl stepped toward the door. “Mariana, stop acting like this. We need to talk.”
You looked at him carefully.
He still had sand on the edge of his loafers.
His hair was styled from the beach wedding photos he had probably taken hours before texting you. His shirt was expensive because you had bought it for his birthday. His sunglasses were the ones he claimed he needed for “client impressions,” which meant you paid for them too.
“No,” you said. “We needed to talk before you committed bigamy.”
Fernanda went still.
“Bigamy?” she whispered.
Raúl whipped around. “Don’t listen to her.”
You tilted your head. “Did you tell her we were divorced?”
Fernanda’s face turned pale.
Lupita gasped dramatically. “Don’t twist things.”
You opened the door a little wider, holding up your phone. “I have the marriage record. Travis County shows no divorce filing. No separation agreement. Nothing. I checked at 6:15 this morning while my coffee brewed.”
Fernanda looked at Raúl.
“Raúl?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”
You laughed once.
Not loudly.
Not happily.
Just enough for him to hear that the old Mariana—the one who softened everything to protect him—was no longer answering the door.
“It’s not complicated,” you said. “It’s illegal.”
Patricia lowered her phone a little.
For the first time, recording did not look fun anymore.
Fernanda stepped back from him. “You told me the divorce was finalized.”
“I said it was basically finalized.”
“No,” she said, voice rising. “You said finalized.”
Raúl looked toward you with pure hatred.
As if you had ruined his lie by being inconveniently married to him.
That was the moment the second phone call came.
This time, it was Fernanda’s.
She looked down at the screen.
Her face changed before she answered.
“Mom?”
Raúl closed his eyes.
You leaned against the doorframe, suddenly very interested.
Fernanda listened. Her free hand pressed against her stomach.
“What? No, we’re at his house— I mean, his ex’s house— No, I didn’t know. Mom, I didn’t know.”
She looked at Raúl again.
Whatever her mother said next made her mouth fall open.
“The venue called you?”
Raúl muttered, “Oh my God.”
Fernanda’s voice broke. “What deposit?”
There it was.
The second crack became a split.
