My Husband Gave Me 1,500 Pesos for the Entire Month and Demanded Meat Every Night… But One Dinner Exposed What He Had Done with 74,000 Pesos

He shoved Mariana violently to the floor and leaned out into the torrential rain, watching in absolute horror as the tiny silver key vanished into the murky, rushing floodwaters of the street below.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!" Óscar roared, turning back toward her, his face contorted in psychotic rage. He raised his gun, aiming it straight between her eyes. "THAT KEY WAS WORTH FIFTY MILLION PESOS!"

"Shoot me," Mariana gasped from the floor, blood trickling from her lip. "Shoot me and go dig through the sewers yourself!"

Óscar’s finger tightened on the trigger.

BOOM!

A deafening gunshot echoed through the apartment.

Concussion shattered the room. But it wasn't Óscar’s gun that had fired.

Óscar gasped, dropping his weapon as a dark red spot bloomed across his tactical vest. He stumbled backward, staring in shock at the doorway before collapsing heavily onto the floor.

Standing in the doorway, holding a smoking Glock 19, was Mateo Silva.

Mariana scrambled back, pressing herself against the wall in terror. "Mateo...?"

Mateo stepped over Óscar’s writhing body, unceremoniously kicking Óscar’s gun under the bed. He looked down at Óscar with a look of cold disappointment.

"You always were too loud, Óscar," Mateo said flatly.

"Mateo... you... you shot me..." Óscar wheezed, clutching his bleeding chest. "We had a deal..."

"The deal was that we share the ledger," Mateo said smoothly. "But why share fifty million pesos with a low-level car enthusiast who couldn't even control his own wife?"

Mateo then turned his attention to Mariana. He pointed his gun directly at her head.

"Now, Mariana," Mateo said softly. "Where is the real key?"

Mariana squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing fast and shallow. "I threw it out the window! You saw me!"

Mateo chuckled. "Mariana, please. You're a head cataloging clerk at the state library. You categorize thousands of tiny details every single day for a living. You knew Óscar was watching you. You wouldn't throw away your only bargaining chip."

Mariana slowly opened her eyes. The fear in her face vanished, replaced by an expression of cold, brilliant intelligence.

She slowly reached into her rain jacket pocket.

She pulled out a small piece of blue jeweler's molding clay—stamped clearly with the deep, perfect impression of key 709.

"I threw a fake brass key I found in Teresa's vanity drawer out the window," Mariana said, her voice dropping to a low, powerful tone. "I pressed the real key into this molding clay the second I opened the drawer, and hid the real key inside the lining of my boot."

Mateo’s eyes widened in genuine shock and admiration. "You made an impression... in five seconds?"

"I’ve spent six years working with archived key molds in the library's historical vault section," Mariana said, standing up slowly. "I can duplicate a key from a clay mold in twenty minutes using the library's 3D metal printer."

Mateo let out a low whistle. "Incredible. Absolutely incredible. Give me the mold, Mariana, and I’ll let you walk away with your life. I'll take the money and leave the country. You'll never see me again."

"No," Mariana said firmly. "You're going to give me something else first."

Mateo raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what is that?"

"Fifty percent of the offshore account," Mariana demanded. "Or I crush this clay mold right now under my heel, and neither of us gets a single peso."