PART 2
The master of ceremonies, pale and visibly shaking, tried to intercept her on the first step.
“Ms. Valentina, please allow security to call a doctor. Perhaps you’d like a moment alone…”
With chilling composure, Valentina took the microphone from him, her calm so sharp it seemed to lower the temperature in the room.
“I don’t need a moment alone,” she declared, her voice projecting through all 20 speakers of the venue. “I need everyone in this room to listen very carefully.”
The background music was cut off instantly. Waiters froze along the walls. Diego, realizing his plan was collapsing, hurried toward the front of the stage, pretending panic and slipping into the role of a concerned husband.
“Honey, for God’s sake, don’t do this here! You’re having a medical crisis!” he muttered loudly enough for the front rows to hear.
Valentina looked down at him from the stage as though he were insignificant.
“Not here, Diego? But you did in my own bathroom this morning at 6:00 AM, when you replaced my shampoo with acid?”
A wave of shock moved through the 30 tables like a violent electric surge.
Camila turned pale and stepped back three paces. Doña Teresa tightened her grip on her pearl necklace, her jaw clenched. Diego let out a strained, nervous laugh, lifting his hands in denial.
