He closed his briefcase with a sharp metallic click.

“I suggest you call your personal lawyer,” Matthew added. “Though I doubt he will answer your call once he sees the news.”

Matthew turned and walked out of the frame, leaving the office door open behind him.

Alvaro remained frozen in his chair, staring at the empty doorway.

On my phone, the notifications were coming faster now.

A financial blog had just posted a headline: *Horizonte Capital Faces Internal System Collapse and Allegations of Fraud.*

Below it, a graph showed the pre-market indicators for the fund’s primary holding company.

The line was a vertical drop, plunging red into the bottom of the axis.

Lucía let out a low whistle.

“The shares,” she said. “They are tanking.”

“It is only the beginning,” I said.

My phone rang again.

This time, the caller ID showed a name I recognized instantly.

It was Beatriz de la Iglesia, one of the grand dames of La Moraleja’s social circle.

She was Alvaro’s neighbor, a woman who had hosted our anniversary dinners and called me her dearest friend.

I let it ring.