Chapter 8 - THE SHADOW OF A COWARDInside the dim, cramped kitchen of their second-story tenement apartment, Mateo sat staring at a cold cup of instant coffee.
The television was playing a low-volume local news broadcast in the background. Without warning, the station cut to a live press conference featuring the city's new economic development council and the corporate executives spearheading the upcoming downtown modernization initiative.
On the screen, crystal-clear in high definition, appeared Valeria Ortiz-Navarro.
She was standing at the podium, flanked by municipal leaders and city officials, speaking with absolute poise, elegance, and unshakeable authority about sustainable urban architecture, financial transparency, and women's leadership in modern business.
Mateo’s hand shook so violently that he spilled coffee over the rim of his cracked ceramic mug.
The door creaked open, and Patricia dragged herself into the tiny kitchen, slamming the front door shut behind her. Her face was pale, her eyes wild and haunted.
"I saw her, Mateo," Patricia whispered, her voice trembling with lingering shock. "I saw her outside on the corner. She looked... she looked like a queen. And we are living in a pigsty."
Mateo didn't look up from the television screen. He watched his ex-wife smile brightly under the flashing camera lights of reporters asking for her autograph and her business card.
"She warned us, Mom," Mateo said, his voice completely hollow, stripped of every ounce of pride he had ever possessed. "On the night she left the hospital... she left us a message."
"Stop talking about that!" Patricia screamed, clutching her head. "We can fix this! We can call someone! We can file a complaint—!"
"With what money, Mom?" Mateo finally snapped, raising his bloodshot eyes to meet hers with a flash of bitter, corrosive fury. "With what lawyers? With what power? You pushed her into a shoe rack because you couldn't stand the thought of another woman sharing your precious control. You told me to text her that she deserved it. And in one single morning, she took everything we ever built and showed the entire world exactly who we are."
Patricia opened her mouth to argue, to launch into another tirade of insults and defensive justifications, but the words caught in her throat.
May you like
She looked around the tiny, peeling walls of the tenement kitchen. She looked at her son—broken, defeated, and reduced to a minimum-wage laborer. And then she looked back at the television screen, where Valeria’s image was already fading into a commercial break for a brilliant, prosperous future that would never include them again.
Mateo stood up slowly, walked past his mother without a word, and locked himself inside the tiny, dark bedroom, leaving Patricia standing alone in the kitchen with the ghosts of her own arrogance.
