I sat up, pulling the silk sheet up to cover my bare chest. A heavy silence hung over the penthouse. I looked around, noticing my midnight blue dress had been neatly folded and placed on a chair nearby.
“Álvaro?” I called out tentatively. No response.
I got out of bed, wrapped myself in a plush white bathrobe left on the vanity, and stepped out into the living room. The penthouse was deserted. There was no sign of him.
But as I walked toward the kitchen, I noticed something resting on the marble island countertop.
It was a thick, manila envelope. Next to it was a fresh cup of coffee, still steaming, and a handwritten note in elegant, sweeping cursive.
I walked over, my heart beginning to race with a sudden, unexplainable dread. I picked up the note first.
Elena,
Our transaction is complete. The hospital bills are fully cleared, and your mother’s surgery began at 7:00 AM today. She is expected to make a full recovery.
However, during our time together, certain… realities became clear to me. I cannot allow you back into my office. Your employment with Montenegro Holdings is officially terminated, effective immediately.
Do not try to contact me. The contents of the envelope will explain everything.
— A.M.
I stared at the note, my breath catching in my throat. Fired? He had fired me? After promising that everything would return to a strictly professional relationship? The betrayal cut surprisingly deep, a sharp pain blooming in my chest that had nothing to do with financial security.
With trembling hands, I dropped the note and reached for the thick manila envelope. I tore open the seal and pulled out the stack of documents inside.
I expected it to be severance paperwork, or perhaps a legal warning. But as my eyes scanned the bold text at the top of the first page, the blood completely drained from my face. My knees buckled, and I had to grab the edge of the marble counter to keep from collapsing to the floor.
The document wasn’t a termination contract.
It was a certified copy of a Last Will and Testament, legally binding, alongside a series of corporate transfer deeds. And stamped across the top in bright red ink was a word that shattered my entire understanding of who Álvaro Montenegro was, and what had actually happened last night.
My eyes raced down to the final page, where a legal clause highlighted in yellow ink spelled out a terrifying, impossible truth.
I gasped, dropping the papers as they scattered across the floor.
“No…” I whispered into the empty room, my hands shaking violently as the true horror of my situation finally dawned on me. “Oh my god, Álvaro… what did you do?”
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