Chapter 1 - The Blood-Stained Monogram
The five-word message that turned a perfect marriage into a living nightmare.The paper in Valeria’s hands was high-grade cream parchment, the kind used by the most prestigious law firms and private banking estates in Las Lomas. But the ink was uneven, written with a shaky, desperate hand.
The note read:
"He knows. He's making me wear it tonight. If I don't make it back, look under the floorboards of the guest house."
Valeria stared at the initials embroidered in black silk thread: N.K.
"N.K.," Valeria whispered, her voice barely a breath. "Natalia... Natalia Kramarenko?"
Natalia Kramarenko was not just anyone. She was the beautiful, elusive Ukrainian-Mexican socialite who had vanished from Monterrey's elite circles six months ago. The official story, whispered over mimosas in Polanco’s high-end cafes, was that she had abruptly returned to Europe after a messy divorce.
But looking at Natalia—her sister-in-law, who was currently curled into a fetal position on the hardwood floor, hyperventilating—Valeria realized the truth was far more sinister.
"Why did you react like that?" Valeria demanded, kneeling beside her. "Natalia, look at me! Why did you scream when you saw yourself in the mirror?"
"Because..." Natalia choked out, her manicured nails digging into her own palms until they bled. "Because that dress wasn't bought in a boutique, Valeria. It was commissioned. I helped design it. But it wasn't for me. It was for her."
"Who?"
"Natalia Kramarenko. She was... she was Alejandro’s mistress, Valeria."
The world seemed to tilt. The luxurious apartment, with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline of Mexico City, suddenly felt like a gilded cage.
"You're lying," Valeria said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Alejandro loves me. He was in Monterrey on business."
"Business?" Natalia let out a hollow, bitter laugh, wiping tears and smeared mascara from her face. "He was at the Kramarenko estate in San Pedro. Valeria, that dress... Natalia Kramarenko was wearing it the night she disappeared. I know because I saw her wearing it in a photo Alejandro sent me. He asked me if I thought you would like the cut. He was planning to give it to you after she was gone."
Valeria’s phone suddenly buzzed on the kitchen island.
The screen lit up with a message from Alejandro:
May you like
"Just left the office in Santa Fe. Traffic is terrible on the Constituyentes, but I’m bringing your favorite dessert. Can’t wait to see you in that blue dress tonight, mi amor."
Valeria looked from the phone to the crumpled blue silk on the floor. The dress no longer looked like a masterpiece of haute couture. It looked like a shroud.
