Go home. Pretend you’re sick. Don’t get on that plane today. Those were the words a flight attendant I didn’t recognize whispered to me. She placed a small piece of napkin in my hand. I was baffled because I felt perfectly fine. But she came back. Her face was as pale as a ghost. Please, I beg you, trust me.

That morning, the air in Terminal 4 of Adolfo Suárez Madrid-Barajas Airport was buzzing with its usual energy. Thousands of people moved about, each toward their own destination, dragging suitcases, hugging their families, rushing to catch a flight. In the midst of this chaos, Carmen sat down, feeling an overwhelming joy.

She adjusted the impeccable cardigan that matched her pastel blue blouse. Beside her stood her husband, Javier. This was a moment she had long awaited, a business trip together. For years, they had both worked hard at different companies, but this major collaborative project had finally brought them together as a team.

 

 

For Carmen, this was proof that they weren’t just life partners, but also professional partners on equal footing. Javier smiled at her, but Carmen could detect a slight tension in his jawline. “This project is really important, isn’t it, darling?” Carmen asked softly, placing her hand on top of his.

Javier looked surprised for a moment, then nodded quickly. Of course, she’ll decide everything. You know that, don’t you? He stood up immediately. I’ll get some coffee. Do you want anything? A pastry. Carmen shook her head. Just a coffee. Not too sweet, as usual. Javier tried to force a more relaxed smile.

He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before turning and walking toward one of the busy cafes. Carmen watched him go. Javier was a good man, a supportive husband. He had always encouraged her career. However, in recent weeks, Carmen had noticed something subtly different about him. He was quieter, more engrossed in his phone. Carmen attributed it all to the pressure of this big project. It was only natural.

The project was worth millions of euros and would undoubtedly define their careers. Carmen sighed, trying to push away those ridiculous doubts. She shouldn’t ruin this moment with negative thoughts. She looked again at her neatly arranged suitcases. She imagined how fun it would be to explore a new city with Javier, working side by side.

Ten minutes passed, and Carmen began to get a little bored. She took out her phone to check one last work email before takeoff. Everything seemed in order. That’s when she felt it. Someone was standing too close to her. Slightly irritated, Carmen looked up. A woman in a flight attendant uniform was standing in front of her.

Her face was pale and her eyes darted nervously, as if searching for someone in the crowd. “Excuse me,” the flight attendant said. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yes,” Carmen replied politely. She thought the woman would ask for directions. The flight attendant didn’t ask; instead, she took a step closer. Suddenly, she seemed to trip over her own feet and bumped into Carmen’s knees.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said nervously. “It’s okay,” said Carmen, a little confused by the woman’s overreaction. “But the woman didn’t leave right away.” She bent down, pretending to straighten her uniform. Her eyes met Carmen’s. They held immense panic. “You’re Carmen, aren’t you?” she whispered very quickly.

Carmen froze. “Yes. I’m Carmen. What’s wrong?” With a swift movement, the flight attendant took Carmen’s hand. The woman’s hand was cold and trembling. She placed a small folded napkin in Carmen’s palm and closed it tightly. “Go home,” she whispered again, breathless. “Pretend you’re sick. Don’t get on that plane today.”

“Whatever happens, don’t get on.” Before Carmen could process the words, before she could ask why, the flight attendant straightened up, glanced toward the cafeteria where Javier had gone, and her face went even paler. “Please,” she said, almost whimpering. And as quickly as she had appeared, she turned and disappeared into the flow of people heading for security. Carmen sat there, frozen.

The napkin in her palm felt like a burning coal. What had just happened? Who was that woman? Why did she know my name? Pretend you’re sick. Don’t get on the plane. Carmen’s head was spinning. Ridiculous. This must be some kind of sick joke. Maybe it’s someone from a TV crew filming a hidden camera prank. But the woman’s eyes, the terror in those eyes, was all too real.

Here’s your coffee, darling. Javier’s voice startled Carmen. She almost dropped the napkin she was holding. She quickly crumpled it and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. Javier was standing in front of her, offering her a cup of hot coffee. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Javier joked.

Carmen laughed, but the sound seemed dissonant to her own ears. Nothing, she was just distracted. She picked up her coffee. Her hands were trembling slightly. Javier looked at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.” “I’m fine, darling. Just a little nervous, I guess. This business trip is important.” Javier nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. He sat back down next to her and immediately took out his phone.

Again. He seemed engrossed in writing something, his body slightly turned away from her. Carmen tried to calm herself. She took a sip of coffee. Everything’s normal, everything’s fine. The warning a moment ago must have been a mistake. Perhaps the flight attendant mistook me for someone else. Even though she said my name clearly, maybe she had personal problems and took them out on someone at random.

Carmen tried to focus on other things—the flight information board, the murmur of the crowd—but the cold sensation it had left on her palm lingered. Pretending to tidy her bag, Carmen slowly took the napkin out again. Hiding it behind her purse, she carefully unfolded it.

It was an ordinary, crumpled white napkin, but in the center was something written. In red marker, in shaky, hurried capital letters. Just two words. He lies. Carmen’s heart seemed to stop for three seconds. He lies. Who? Who was the woman referring to? The flight attendant had glanced toward the cafeteria where Javier was. She meant Javier.

Impossible. The idea was so monstrous that Carmen wanted to laugh. Javier, her husband, lying. About what? About this project, about this trip? Carmen glanced sideways at Javier. Her husband was still busy typing on his phone. His fingers moved quickly. His jawline was tense.

He didn’t look like the loving husband who had kissed her forehead just minutes before. He looked like a nervous stranger. Carmen quickly folded the napkin again and put it in her pocket. She had to ignore this. It’s crazy. Today is an important day for us. I’m not going to let some ridiculous joke or some crazy woman ruin this moment for me.

She stared at the boarding gate in front of her, but the image of those two words, “he lies,” was seared into her retina, turning the joy she had felt an hour ago into a knot of ice in her stomach. The next hour was the longest torture of Carmen’s life. Time seemed to drag on. The departure and arrival announcements alternated like a strange buzzing in her ears. The coffee in her hand had gone cold.

The napkin in her pocket felt heavier and heavier, as if it were made of lead. She tried to act normal, but every cell in her body was on high alert. She kept glancing at Javier. Her husband had already put his phone away and was reading a business magazine, or at least pretending to. The paper trembled slightly in his hands.

“Honey,” Carmen called. Her voice sounded harsher than she intended. Javier lowered the magazine. “Yes, I haven’t been feeling very well lately,” Carmen said, testing his reaction. “My stomach feels a little queasy.” Javier’s eyes sharpened instantly. The awkward smile from before had vanished. “Queasy.”

“Did you eat something that was off this morning?” Her tone was more irritated than worried. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just indigestion,” Carmen continued. “Have some hot tea on the plane,” Javier said quickly. Too quickly. He slammed the magazine shut. “We can’t cancel this, Carmen. Everyone there is waiting for us on this project. You’re just nervous. Breathe.”

Carmen swallowed hard. Javier’s reaction made her stomach churn even more. Normally, if Carmen complained of the slightest ailment, Javier would become the most attentive husband. He would buy her medicine, massage her neck, or at the very least ask her how she was doing. But what she had just received was a sharp glare and an order to suck it up.

This wasn’t the Javier she knew. He’s lying. The words echoed in her head again. What was he lying about? Was the project less important than he’d said, or was it something worse? Carmen tried to dismiss the idea. I’m overreacting. I’ve read too many mystery novels. I’m just tired. But then she saw Isabel again.

Now she knew her name because she had glanced at the name tag on her uniform as she was leaving. Isabel was talking to a ground staff member near another gate. She seemed anxious. She kept glancing toward the gate where Carmen and Javier were waiting, as if she were keeping an eye on them. Carmen’s thoughts raced uncontrollably.

What should she do? Trust a panicked stranger or her own husband? Obviously, she should trust Javier. But why did her heart feel so heavy? Last call for flight IB 5127 to Málaga. Gate 12 is about to close. It was her flight. Javier stood up immediately and held out his hand to Carmen.

Come on, darling, it’s time to go. Carmen looked at that hand, the same hand that had held hers at her wedding, the hand that had helped her when she was sick, but now that hand felt strange. Carmen took Javier’s hand and stood up. Her legs felt like jelly. They started walking toward the check-in counter, where the line was already getting shorter. Each step was like walking on nails.

As they approached the door, the queue suddenly slowed down. A woman hurried out in the opposite direction of the line, trying to get out. It was Isabel. She was clearly doing it on purpose. She passed Javier, who didn’t notice her, but when she passed right by Carmen, their eyes met.

It was a moment when time stood still. Isabel’s face was pale, covered in cold sweat. Her eyes opened wide in a desperate plea. She said nothing, simply shook her head. A very slow tremor, a very loud no.

And then Carmen saw Isabel’s lips move silently, forming two words that pierced her heart. Help me. Then Isabel hurried away, disappearing around the corner of the hallway. Carmen stopped walking. Her whole body trembled violently. This isn’t a joke, this isn’t an act. That woman’s terror was 100% real, and now that terror had infected her. “Carmen, why are you stopping?” Javier’s voice sounded impatient.

She squeezed his hand harder than necessary. “Come on, the agent is calling us.” Now they were standing in front of the gate staff’s desk, just a step away from handing over their tickets and passports. One more step and they would be on the jetway to the plane. Carmen looked down the dark corridor leading to the aircraft and then at Javier’s face.

Her husband wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the airplane door with a strange expression on his face, like a predator eyeing its prey. In an hour. The premise of a mystery novel she’d read suddenly came to mind. But this was real.

What will happen in an hour if I get on this plane? That’s when Carmen made her decision. She didn’t care if it was ridiculous. She didn’t care if Javier got furious. She didn’t care if he made a fool of himself. She preferred to risk embarrassment rather than ignore such a powerful warning. Just as Javier was handing out passports to the people, Carmen let go of her husband’s hand.

“Honey,” she moaned. Then she clutched her stomach with both hands. She didn’t have to act much because she was so nervous that her stomach really felt awful. She let her body go limp and collapsed to the floor, dropping her bag with a thud. “Carmen!” Javier shouted. This time there was panic in his voice. “What? What’s wrong?” The doorman was also startled.

“My stomach hurts so much,” Carmen moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. She curled up on the floor, clutching her abdomen. There was a small commotion. People stopped. The agent immediately radioed the airport medical team. “Passenger fainted at Gate 12. Carmen, Carmen, what’s wrong?” Javier knelt beside her. His hand shook Carmen’s shoulder. Carmen let him shake her. She continued moaning. “It hurts.”

I can’t. I can’t do it. Airport paramedics arrived running with a wheelchair. Within minutes. They quickly examined Carmen. “Her blood pressure is normal, but she’s in a lot of pain,” said one paramedic. “She can’t fly in this condition,” said the other. “We have to take her to the airport clinic.”

“I don’t want to say, ‘What about the plane?’” Javier sounded desperate. “I’m sorry, sir. Your wife is not authorized to fly. Passenger safety comes first,” the gate agent said firmly. “You will both have to cancel this flight.” “But, but the project,” Javier muttered. Carmen felt herself being helped into the wheelchair.

She deliberately lowered her head. As they began to lead her away from the door, she opened her eyes only slightly. She needed to see her husband’s reaction. She expected to see a worried face, or at least one disappointed by the failure of an important project. But that wasn’t what she saw. Javier wasn’t looking at her.

He froze for a moment, thinking Carmen was completely unconscious. He turned toward the glass wall overlooking the rink. His shoulders were bobbing. Then, with a slow but furious movement, Javier slammed his fist against the wall. Not a loud, attention-grabbing punch, but a controlled blow, full of frustration and pure rage.

He wasn’t worried, he was furious. He was furious because his plan had failed. What plan? Carmen closed her eyes again instantly. The chill she’d felt in her stomach earlier now spread throughout her body. The napkin in her pocket. Isabel’s warning. He’s lying. Carmen’s heart pounded, not from her feigned illness, but from the terror that had just begun.

She had just escaped something, and the culprit was punching a wall because he had failed. The ride from the airport home was the most deafening silence Carmen had ever experienced. She remained seated in the back of the taxi, pretending to lean weakly against the window. Javier sat in the front seat next to the driver.

Carmen was grateful. She couldn’t have sat next to that man right now. She couldn’t have felt the warmth of the man she’d just seen punch a wall because he hadn’t managed to get her on a plane. Failed at what? At getting her on the plane. “How’s your stomach?” Javier asked in a neutral voice without turning around.

“It still hurts, it still hurts,” Carmen whispered, keeping her act. “I think it’s my acid reflux again. I’m sorry, honey. I know this project was important.” Carmen saw Javier’s face in the rearview mirror. The man sighed deeply. Not a sigh of relief that his wife was okay, but a sigh of profound frustration.

“Yes, very important,” she said coldly. “We’ve disappointed the customers. I’ll have to call them later.” Silence settled between them again. The taxi driver, sensing their attention, turned on the radio with a cheerful pop song that didn’t fit the car’s atmosphere at all. Carmen closed her eyes. The napkin was still in her pocket.

He’s lying. Flight attendant Isabel had risked her life to warn him. The terror in that woman’s eyes was real, and the fury she’d just seen in Javier’s eyes at the airport was real too. They arrived at his house, a cozy, minimalist apartment that Carmen had always considered her little paradise. Now it felt like a trap.

“Come on, I’ll help you up to the room,” Javier said. He got out of the taxi and opened Carmen’s door. His behavior had returned to that of a normal husband. He helped Carmen, who deliberately let herself fall. She didn’t want Javier to suspect for even a second that her illness was faked.

She had to continue with this role until she knew what was happening. “You rest, I’ll unpack the suitcases,” Javier said after putting Carmen to bed. He covered her up to her chin. His hand felt cold to the touch. “I’ll bring you some hot water and medicine.” Carmen just nodded. She closed her eyes. She heard Javier leave the room and the door close, but not completely.

There was a small crack. Carmen waited. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t sick, she was terrified. A few minutes later, Javier didn’t return with hot water. Instead, Carmen heard his footsteps heading not toward the kitchen, but toward the study downstairs. And then she heard the sound she feared most.

Javier was speaking on the phone in a low, hissing voice, very carefully, trying not to make a sound. Carmen shifted in bed, held her breath, and strained her ears. Yes, it failed. A complete failure. Javier’s voice was restrained and angry. I don’t know if he was pretending to be sick or if he really was. I don’t care.

Right at the boarding gate. Imagine, there was a pause. Javier was clearly listening to the other person. When? I don’t know. He’s in bed now. This is a disaster. You have to cancel everything there. The villa, everything. Leave no trace. Trace. What trace, Villa? No, don’t contact me for a while. Suspect something. No, impossible.

She’s too naive. But we have to be careful. I’ll find another way. A plan B. I’ll call you later. Goodbye. The call ended. Silence. Carmen lay motionless. She felt her blood turning to ice. Find another way. Plan B. She’s too naive. This wasn’t about the project, it was about her. Isabel’s warning was 100% true.

Javier was planning something for her, and he had an accomplice. The person he had just called… Carmen’s breathing became shallow. She had to calm down. Not panic. Panic meant losing. She had to keep pretending to be asleep, pretending to be sick. Javier returned to the room a few minutes later with a glass of water and some indigestion pills.

Her face had regained its composure. A fake smile was in its place. “Take this first, darling, to calm your stomach,” she said gently. Carmen slowly opened her eyes. “Thank you, darling.” She sat up reluctantly and took the medicine. The taste was bitter, but the bitterness in her heart was much stronger. She lay back down. Sleep.

I have to clean up this mess. Call the clients, reorganize everything. I’ll probably work late. Don’t wait up for me. Okay, Carmen whispered. Javier kissed her forehead. The kiss felt like a snake’s. Then he left, closing the door behind him. This time the door closed completely. Carmen didn’t sleep.

She lay in the darkness, listening to every sound. She heard Javier moving downstairs. She heard the clinking of glasses and bottles. He was pouring himself a drink. She heard Javier turn on the television. Then, after hours of tension, finally, toward dawn, there was total silence. Carmen waited another 30 minutes to be sure.

Then, with the stealth of a thief, he got out of bed. His legs trembled, but his determination was stronger. He had to find evidence. He had to know how deep this rabbit hole went. He tiptoed down the stairs. The living room was dimly lit only by the moonlight filtering through the windows.

Javier was asleep on the sofa. A half-empty bottle of whiskey lay on the table. He was snoring softly. This was her chance. Carmen walked slowly to Javier’s study. The door wasn’t locked. She went in, closed the door very quietly, and switched on the dim light of a desk lamp. She stood in front of her husband’s laptop.

This was Pandora’s box. Her hand trembled as she clicked the mouse. The screen lit up. It wasn’t locked. Javier, in his arrogance, never imagined Carmen would go through his things. First, she checked the emails, searched for the project, and the name of the client they were supposedly going to see.

There were some normal work emails, but then she found a folder called Malaga Collaboration Project. She opened it eagerly. It was empty. No proposals, no schedules, no client details, no hotel confirmations. Empty. The whole business trip was fake. Carmen felt nauseous. This time it was real.

So why were we going there? Her mind went back to Javier’s words on the phone. La Villa typed “Villa” into the email search bar. Nothing. Then she checked the web browser history. She had to know what her husband had been searching for. She opened it. At first, it was normal. Stock market news, sports articles.

But as she scrolled down through the history of the last few weeks, her heart sank. Life insurance policy in the wife’s name. How to claim on spouse’s life insurance? Death benefit payment processing time. Carmen covered her mouth to stifle a scream. It can’t be.

It can’t be, Javier, it can’t be. She was trembling violently. She opened a new tab and logged into her bank’s website. She checked their joint account. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then she remembered something. Javier had a personal folder on his desktop called “administration.” He always said it was for tax matters. Carmen Labrio.

A few tax PDFs, invoices, and a file called “Carmen Policy, PDF Premium” opened it. It was a life insurance policy in her name, Carmen. Javier was the sole beneficiary. The policy’s value made Carmen’s eyes widen: 15 million euros. And the policy’s issue date was three days ago. Right after this project was approved, Carmen stumbled backward, almost bumping into a bookshelf.

She collapsed to the floor. She couldn’t breathe. This is the proof. This is the reason. Money. Javier was going to kill her for money, but he wasn’t finished yet. Horror drove her back to the laptop. She had to know everything. She went back to her search history. How to make an accident look natural? Lethal dose of sleeping pills. More remote islands near Málaga.

Best cliffs for watching the sunset on the Costa del Sol. Carmen felt a wave of overwhelming nausea. Vomit rose in her throat. She ran to the small bathroom next to the studio and vomited violently. The indigestion pills she had just taken came out along with everything else in her stomach.

She wept silently. Her body trembled violently on the cold bathroom floor. Her husband, the man asleep on the sofa in the next room, the man she had loved, with whom she had built a life, was planning to murder her on a cliff at sunset.

After a long time, her tears stopped, replaced by something else, something cold, hard, and sharp. Rage. She wasn’t going to die. She wasn’t going to let that man win. She wiped her mouth and went back to the study. With now steady hands, she picked up her phone and photographed the entire search history. She sent the PDF of the insurance policy to a personal email address Javier didn’t know about.

She photographed the empty project folder, gathered all the digital evidence she could. Then she deleted her own search history on Javier’s laptop. She cleared the browser history as if she’d never been there. She turned off the desk lamp, leaving everything as it was. She tiptoed back upstairs. She saw Javier still fast asleep on the sofa, snoring, unaware that his world was about to crumble.

Carmen went back to bed, crawled under the covers, but she wasn’t cold anymore. She was burning with rage. She clutched her phone under her pillow. There was only one person who could help her now. The only other person who knew part of the truth had to find Isabel. Carmen didn’t sleep a wink.

He lay in bed staring at the dark ceiling. His mind raced a thousand times faster than normal. All the worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind: Javier and his accomplice’s plan, the mysterious person on the phone, the cliff and the sunset, the 15 million euros from the insurance payout.

It all felt like a nightmare, but the evidence on her phone, now safely hidden inside a sock in her drawer, was real. At 5 a.m., Carmen got up. She continued pretending to be sick, walking deliberately slowly. She found Javier fast asleep on the sofa with a faint smell of alcohol still in the air.

She walked past him, washed her face, and prayed. She prayed while weeping, not tears of fear, but tears of supplication, asking for strength, asking for guidance. She wasn’t just fighting for her life; she was fighting for justice. After praying, she sat down at the kitchen table. She had to make a plan. First priority: contact Isabel. She remembered the name on the dog tag clearly.

Isabel didn’t know his last name, but she did know the airline. Javier finally woke up around 7 a.m., held his head, and walked into the kitchen, clearly hungover from the night before. “Good morning,” Carmen said, deliberately weakening her voice. “I’ve been…” Javier looked at her, surprised to see her already awake. “Oh, thank you.” He sat down across from her. There was an awkward distance between them.

How are you feeling? Better. My stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, but I still feel weak, Carmen lied. I’m glad, Javier said, taking a sip of tea. I have to go to the office for a while today to sort out yesterday’s cancellation. Will you be all right at home alone? Carmen’s heart raced. This was a golden opportunity. I’ll be fine, darling. I plan to rest in my room all day. Okay, don’t go anywhere.

“Lock the door,” Javier said protectively. But Carmen knew it wasn’t protection, it was control. She wanted to know where he was. “Yes, darling,” Carmen said, using the term of endearment that now tasted like poison. As soon as Javier left, Carmen sprang into action, locking the door from the inside and bolting it.

Then she rushed to her laptop, opened Instagram, typed in the airline’s name and the word “flight attendant.” Hundreds of profiles appeared. She scrolled through them, searching for a face that matched the pale one she remembered. Nothing. She switched to Facebook, typed in “Isabel” and the airline’s name, even fewer results. She clicked on each one, and on the fifth profile, there was her photo, smiling and posing in front of an airplane wing. It was her, Isabel.

Carmen’s heart skipped a beat. She clicked send message. What should she say? She couldn’t call. She didn’t know if Javier had wiretapped the house. She had to assume he was watching her. She typed quickly. Isabel. It’s Carmen from the airport yesterday. You were right. Please help me. My husband isn’t home. We need to talk. It’s very urgent.

She pressed send and waited. The minutes felt like hours. She paced the living room. What if Isabel didn’t see the message? What if she was flying and was scared and ignored her? Fifteen minutes later, her phone rang. Reply. Oh my God, Carmen, I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since yesterday. I was so scared.

Are you alright? Tears of relief welled up in Carmen’s eyes. She wasn’t alone. “I’m not alright,” Carmen replied. “I’ve discovered horrible things. My husband’s plan is far worse than I imagined. We need to meet. This house isn’t safe.” “No, Carmen, it’s not safe. He could come back at any moment.”

Let’s meet outside, somewhere busy, like the bookstore’s café on the fourth floor of the Príncipe Pío shopping center. In an hour. “I’ll try,” Carmen replied, “but I have to keep pretending to be sick. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this. Say you need to buy more medicine or sanitary pads, something he won’t want to buy you. Hurry, Carmen, we don’t have much time.”

Carmen immediately put her second plan into action. She ran to the bathroom, grabbed several sanitary pads from the cupboard, and threw them in the trash outside. She claimed she’d run out. She got ready. She didn’t put on her best clothes. Instead, she put on an instant handkerchief, a headscarf, and a long jacket over her loungewear.

She wanted to look like a sick person who was forced to go out. Just as she was about to walk out the door, her phone rang. Javier appeared on the screen. Her heart sank. “Hello,” Carmen answered, her voice rasping. “What are you doing, Carmen? Are you okay?” “I’m in bed trying to go back to sleep.” “Why, honey?” “Nothing, I just wanted to check.”

Why do you sound so weak? I’m just weak. I still feel dizzy. Oh, okay, well, get some rest. I’ll probably be out a little late. I have a lot to do, Javier said. Okay, honey. The call ended. Carmen sighed. She couldn’t believe anything Javier was saying. A little late could mean in an hour.

It could mean he was watching her from the corner. Carmen didn’t care; she had to leave. She called a cab for a pickup point two blocks from her house to avoid being tracked from her doorstep. She walked quickly, constantly glancing over her shoulder. The street was quiet. She got into the car and said, “Quickly, please, to the Príncipe Pío shopping center.” The ride was tense.

Every car that resembled Javier’s sent her into a panic. Finally, she arrived at the mall. She hurried into the bookstore’s café on the fourth floor. It was packed, just as Isabel had said. Carmen looked around the room, and Isabel was sitting in the far corner. She wasn’t wearing a uniform, but a t-shirt and jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

She looked much younger and just as scared as Carmen. Carmen approached her. Isabel. Isabel looked up. Her eyes widened with a relieved smile. Carmen, sit down quickly. Carmen sat down. Her hands were trembling. Thank you, Carmen whispered. You saved my life. But why? Why are you helping me? And what exactly do you know? Isabel took a deep breath, looking at her hands on the table.

“I have to be honest, this is going to be hard to hear. Tell me,” Carmen said, her voice firm. “I found a life insurance policy for 15 million euros and a search history for how to kill me. It can’t get any worse than that.” Isabel’s eyes widened in horror. He really did it, that monster.

She swallowed hard. “See Carmen. The reason I know is because I had a relationship with Javier.” Carmen’s world seemed to stop for the second time in 24 hours. “An affair. Of course, it made sense. We were together for almost a year,” Isabel continued, her eyes moist. “She said she was unhappy in her marriage.”

That you were too focused on your career, that you were ignoring him. I was a fool. I believed him. Carmen listened without saying a word. The pain of betrayal was sharp, but the need to know was stronger. Then, about three months ago, he changed, Isabel said. He became cold, disappeared, and then just broke up with me via text message. Isabel wiped away a tear of anger.

I was devastated, but then I found out why. He didn’t break up with me to get back with you, Carmen. He broke up with me because he’d found another woman. Another woman, Carmen whispered. Yes, her name is Valeria. She’s richer, but I don’t know who she is, but I know she was poisoning Javier’s mind. And then, by chance, I overheard a conversation of theirs.

What conversation? Two weeks ago, I was working on a flight to Malaga. I happened to see Javier in the business class lounge, and he wasn’t alone. He was with that woman, Valeria. They didn’t see me. I followed him. I know it’s wrong, but I was hurt. I put a small tracking device in his bag when he wasn’t looking. Carmen was speechless. “I know it’s crazy,” Isabel said, “but I wanted to know where he was cheating on me.”

But what I got was far more horrifying. The device had a recording function. I listened to their conversation in their hotel room. Isabel trembled. That’s when I heard everything. Javier has enormous online gambling debts. Hundreds of thousands of euros. He was desperate, and that diabolical woman, Valeria, gave him the idea.

What idea? The idea of ​​the business trip. Valeria orchestrated the whole fake scheme. She said, “Your only valuable asset is your naive wife, Carmen, Javier, or more accurately, her insurance. She told Javier to take out a new insurance policy in your name.” Carmen closed her eyes. So Valeria was the woman Javier had been talking to on the phone last night.

The plan—Isabel’s voice trembled violently—was to take you to a secluded villa near Málaga that Valeria had arranged. Valeria would act as your tour guide or villa manager. She would suggest watching the sunset from a beautiful cliff. Carmen recalled the search history. Best cliffs for sunset viewing there. And there, Isabel whispered. He would push you.

Javier would be the distraught witness. Valeria would be the villa manager, confirming it was a tragic accident. The poor wife slipped. Javier would take the 15 million, pay off his debts, and start a new life with Valeria. A profound silence enveloped their table. Even though the café was full, Carmen looked at the coffee in front of her, but what she saw was herself falling off a cliff. “Why are you helping me, Isabel?” Carmen asked again.

Her voice was barely a whisper. You could have let it go. You hate him. Isabel looked straight into Carmen’s eyes. I hate him. I hate Javier, but I hate Valeria more. And I can’t let anyone die. I may have been a stupid lover, but I’m not a murderer, Carmen. When I heard his plan, my stomach churned. I knew I had to do something.

And when I saw your name and Javier’s on my flight manifest, I knew it was destiny. I had to warn you. I didn’t care if I lost my job. I had to try, Isabel said. Carmen reached out a trembling hand and took Isabel’s. Isabel, you didn’t just save my life, you gave me a reason to fight. Carmen’s terror had vanished. What remained was a cold, sharp focus.

She was no longer the victim; she was the woman who was going to destroy the man who had tried to destroy her. “You’re not alone, Carmen,” Isabel said urgently. “Don’t forget. Valeria is out there. She’s as dangerous as Javier, if not more so. She’s the mastermind. Good,” Carmen said, and for the first time, a thin, cold smile appeared on her lips. “Then we’ll have to catch them both.”

The bookstore’s café felt like a small, isolated island in the middle of the mall’s noisy sea. For a moment, Carmen and Isabel sat in silence, processing the horror that had just been revealed. Carmen was the target, Isabel was the unwitting witness, Javier was the puppet, and Valeria was the puppeteer.

“A deadly combination? What now?” Isabel asked quietly, breaking the silence. “You need to go to the police right now.” Carmen shook her head slowly. Her eyes, once filled with shock, were now hardened. “The police. And what do I tell them? It’s not illegal for my husband to get an insurance policy or to look up strange things on the internet.”

They’ll say it’s just a silly investigation. That you listened to a recording of his ex-lover. They’ll laugh at us, Isabel. They’ll treat it like some over-the-top infidelity melodrama. Carmen leaned forward. No, we can’t go after them with flimsy evidence. We have to give them what they want.

We have to let them get caught in their own trap. Isabel looked at her in horror. “Carmen, you’re not thinking of yourself,” Carmen said, her voice as firm as steel. “I’m going with him.” “Carmen, you’re crazy. It’s suicide. You’re going to that villa, to that cliff, with him and Valeria?” Isabel almost screamed. “Shh, lower your voice,” Carmen calmed her.

I’ll go, but this time I’m setting the rules. They want me to be the victim of an accident. I’ll make sure they’re caught red-handed. We need irrefutable proof. We need a recording of them trying to kill me. We need them arrested, literally, with their hands on the prize. The plan was insane. But Isabel saw a glimmer in Carmen’s eyes. She was no longer the naive woman she had met at the airport.

She was a woman who had been pushed to the edge of the abyss, and instead of jumping, she had decided to build a bridge. “Okay,” Isabel finally said. “What’s the plan? What do I do? I need you to be my eyes and ears outside. I’ll go back home and continue playing the role of the sick, submissive wife.”

But I’ll recover. I’ll feel guilty for ruining our business trip,” Carmen explained. The sarcasm was obvious. “I’ll convince him to reschedule the trip as soon as possible. Javier is stupid and arrogant. He’ll believe it,” Isabel said. “Exactly.”

Meanwhile, I need you to find out everything you can about Valeria: who exactly she is, where she lives, and most importantly, the exact location of that villa. We need to know the layout. That’s difficult, Carmen. I don’t know. Very much. You have the recording, right? Carmen interrupted. Listen to it again. See if they mention the name of the villa, the name of the area, a street, anything. And one more thing, I need something from you.

“What, Carmen? A prepaid phone and a new number. A number only the two of us know. I can’t risk Javier tracing my calls.” Isabel nodded quickly. “I can do that. There’s a mobile phone shop nearby.” They parted ways 10 minutes later.

Isabel went to buy the new phone, and Carmen, her heart pounding, called a cabify back to her neighborhood. She made a quick stop at a pharmacy to buy another box of antacids and some vitamins to complete her alibi. She arrived home; the door was locked, just as she had left it.

She went inside, closed the door again, and rushed to the bathroom to throw away the evidence of her shopping. She had to get back into character. She changed into her comfortable loungewear, tousled her hair under her headscarf, and washed her face to look pale and tired. Then she went back to bed and controlled her breathing, keeping it shallow. Javier arrived home that night. Carmen heard the front door open.

Carmen called Javier from downstairs. Carmen didn’t answer. She waited. Javier’s footsteps echoed up the stairs. Then the bedroom door opened. Javier stood in the doorway, watching her as she pretended to be asleep. Carmen felt his gaze on her, judging her, analyzing her. Carmen called her again, more gently. Carmen moaned softly and slowly opened her eyes.

“Darling, Javier, are you home yet?” Javier approached. “Have you been sleeping the whole time? Have you eaten? I’m not hungry. Are you still nauseous?” Carmen whispered. Javier sat on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to touch Carmen’s forehead. The touch made Carmen’s skin prickle, but she fought back. “You don’t have a fever,” Javier said.

“I went to the pharmacy a little while ago,” Carmen said. “When you left, I ran out of pills. I also bought some vitamins. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Javier’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “You went out alone. I told you to rest for just a little while, darling. The woman across the street also ran out of sanitary pads,” Carmen added. The excuse she had prepared.

Javier’s face relaxed instantly. Of course, that was a subject she wouldn’t ask any more questions about. “Oh, okay, call me next time. I’ll bring them to you.” He stood up. “I’m going to make chicken soup. You have to eat something.” That night was a tortuous performance. Carmen ate some of the chicken soup, praising her husband’s cooking.

They watched television in silence. Javier seemed nervous, constantly checking his phone. Carmen was sure he was contacting Valeria, letting her know that their asset was still safe at home. Carmen had to start playing games. “Honey,” she said softly during a commercial break. “Yes, about yesterday’s business trip. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Javier turned to her. “It’s okay, Carmen. It wasn’t your fault. You were sick.” “But the project—were the clients really upset?” Carmen asked, putting on her most guilty face. “I feel like I’ve ruined your career. Our careers.” Javier was silent. Carmen knew she had struck a nerve. His ego.

“It’s true things have gotten complicated,” Javier said heavily. “The clients in Málaga were a bit disappointed. Could it affect our cousins?” “No!” Carmen exclaimed, a little too loudly. She calmed down. “I mean, it can’t be. It’s all my fault.” Overcome with heartburn, Carmen took Javier’s hand, an act that almost made him vomit. “Darling, I feel much better now.”

Honestly, the new medicine I bought at the pharmacy is working. The nausea is gone. I’m just weak from not eating. Javier looked at her, his eyes narrowed. Really? Yes. Listen. Carmen took a deep breath. What if we reschedule it? As soon as possible. When I feel better. Silence filled the room. Carmen could see the gears turning in Javier’s head.

Surprise, disbelief, and then greed. “When?” Javier asked, trying to sound cautious. “Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, when the customers are ready. I don’t want to let you down, darling. I’ll take my medicine. I’ll eat regularly. I promise I won’t get sick again. Let me make amends,” he pleaded with Carmen. Javier’s face slowly changed.

The tension in her shoulders vanished. A delicate smile. The first genuine smile Carmen had seen since the day before appeared on her lips. A smile that sent a chill down her spine. She thought her plan had been saved thanks to her wife’s stupidity. “Really, darling,” her voice now tender. “I don’t want you to force yourself. I’m 100% sure.”

“For us, for this project,” Carmen said firmly. Javier hugged her tightly. “You’re the best wife, Carmen. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “Me neither, darling,” Carmen whispered against his shoulder, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. “Me neither.” “Okay.” Javier broke the hug. “Then I’ll take care of it. I’ll call the clients tomorrow morning.” “Maybe.”

Yes, we could go the day after tomorrow. I have to make sure everything is ready again. Everything, Carmen thought to herself. The villa, the cliff. Valeria, do what you have to do, darling, Carmen said. Javier stood up, his face beaming. He looked like a man who had just won the lottery. Good, very good.

I’m going to the study for a moment to check some emails. She practically trotted to the study. Carmen knew she wasn’t going to check emails; she was going to call Valeria. As soon as Javier disappeared, Carmen pulled out the prepaid phone Isabel had given her, hidden in her houseclothes pocket. She sent a quick message to Isabel’s number.

The day after tomorrow, she’d taken the bait. She glanced at the screen and then deleted the message. The game had begun. She was no longer a sheep waiting to be sacrificed. She was the shepherdess, and she held the knife. 48 hours. That was all the time Carmen had. 48 hours to transform herself from victim to hunter. To arm herself before entering the lion’s den.

The next morning, after Javier left for work with a much lighter step and a smile he couldn’t hide, Carmen sprang into action. She already knew she couldn’t do this alone. Isabel was a great ally, but they were both amateurs. Their plan to trap Javier at the cliff was too risky. What if Valeria brought a weapon? What if Javier became violent? They needed professionals.

Carmen picked up the new phone and dialed a number she had found online the night before. It was the number for lawyer Morales, a well-known and competent criminal and divorce lawyer in Madrid. “Morales’s office. Good morning,” the secretary greeted. “Good morning. I’d like to speak with lawyer Morales, please. It’s urgent. It’s an attempted murder.” There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “Just a moment, please, ma’am.”

Carmen waited, her heart pounding. Three minutes later, a deep, calm voice came through the line. “This is Morales. He says it’s urgent.” Carmen recounted everything quickly and clearly, without pausing. About her husband Javier, the fake business trip, the flight attendant Isabel, the 15 million euro insurance policy, the laptop’s search history, and the cliffside murder plot orchestrated by his new lover, Valeria.

She recounted how she had manipulated Javier into rescheduling the trip for the day after tomorrow. This time the silence was longer. “Mrs. Carmen,” the lawyer Morales finally said in a grave voice. “You are in grave danger. You shouldn’t have returned to that house. You must go to a safe house immediately.” “No,” Carmen said firmly. “I’m not going to run away. If I run away, he’ll get away with it. He’ll hunt me down.”

The only way to catch him is to catch them in the act. I have less than two days to catch both of them. I need your help to gather evidence he can’t deny. Attorney Morales was silent again, clearly weighing the situation. “Are you a very brave woman, or a very reckless one, Ms. Carmen? I hope it’s the former.” He sighed. “Very well.”

The evidence from the insurance policy and the search history is good, but it’s still circumstantial. We need something that directly links him to the intent to kill. We need his confession. We need him to talk about his plan. How do we do that? Carmen asked. I’m going to send someone.

A professional will be at your house in an hour. His name is Marcos. He’s the best private investigator I know. Trust him and do as he says. And Mrs. Carmen, don’t turn off that new phone. Stay in touch with me. An hour later, the doorbell rang.

A man of medium build who looked like an air conditioning technician stood at the door. Mrs. Carmen, “Mr. Marcos,” Carmen whispered. The man nodded briefly, entered, and got straight to the point. He opened a toolbox that, instead of screwdrivers and pliers, contained sophisticated electronic mini-ops. “Attorney Morales has briefed me,” Marcos said in a quick, efficient voice. “We don’t have much time.”

“We need to install recording devices throughout this house.” “Will you be able to find them?” Carmen worried. “You won’t,” Marcos said. “These are state-of-the-art.” He showed her a small shirt button. “This is a transmitter.” He showed her a sticker as thin as paper. “This is a microphone. We’ll put them in the study, in the living room, and in your bedroom.”

For the next 30 minutes, they moved quickly. Marcos worked with the skill of a surgeon. He placed one device behind a calligraphy painting in the living room, another under Javier’s desk. And for you, Marcos handed you a beautiful, simple silver pendant with a small sapphire. This piece of jewelry is a highly sensitive microphone. It will record everything you say and everything anyone says about you.

It’s connected directly to our secure servers. Never take it off. She won’t suspect a thing. Carmen shook her head. This is similar to one my mother gave me a while ago. She won’t suspect a thing. Good. And finally, Marcos pulled out a small, coin-sized device. This is a GPS tracker and audio recorder. You have to put it in your luggage. Suitcase. Briefcase.

Something he knows he’ll take with him, Carmen said. He’ll definitely use it again. Perfect. Put it deep in a drawer where you won’t find it, and only pack clothes, Marcos instructed. Now your part is the hardest, Carmen. You have to provoke him. You have to get him to talk about the trip, about Valeria, about the money.

“Make him feel conceited, make him think he’s got it made. Understood,” Carmen said, clutching the pendant in her hand. After Marcos left, Carmen grabbed the coin tracker and went up to her room. Javier’s suitcase was in a corner, not completely unpacked since the first cancellation.

His heart raced. He unzipped his suitcase, his hands trembling, but he slipped the tracker inside and taped it between the suitcase frame. It was done. Now he just had to wait. That night was the last night before his fateful flight. Carmen helped Javier pack. She seemed cheerful and excited. “I’m so eager to relax after our big presentation, darling.”

A villa on the beach sounds perfect. Javier smiled. It was his predatory smile. Oh, it’ll be a trip you’ll never forget, Carmen. I promise. I know. Carmen thought to herself. The pendant around her neck felt warm against her skin. The climax came around 10 p.m.

Carmen was in the bedroom pretending to be asleep. She was wearing the pendant. She heard Javier move and then enter the study. The recording device under the desk activated. Carmen, in her room, could also listen through her new phone, which was connected to Marcos’s system. She heard the sound of a call. Javier was calling someone. “Hello,” Javier’s voice said.

“Is everything ready?” A female voice answered on the other end. It was too quiet for Carmen to hear clearly, but the studio’s recording device would pick it up. “Good,” Javier said. “She doesn’t suspect a thing; on the contrary, she’s thrilled. She thinks it’s a real business trip.” Javier laughed. A laugh that made Carmen nauseous. “She’s as naive as you said,” Valeria said.

Valeria. And yes, of course I remember the plan. Javier continued, sounding a little irritated. We arrive tomorrow afternoon. We check into the villa, you greet us as the manager. Then in the evening you suggest the sunset tour to the cliff. Pause. Of course I’ll do it, Javier. You just make sure there’s no one around. Make sure the area is deserted. When I push her, I’ll scream for help. We’ll both be witnesses.

A tragic accident. Carmen closed her eyes. A warm tear rolled down her cheek. She was listening to her own husband detail his murder plan so calmly. “The insurance,” Javier said. “It’s covered. I have all the paperwork. Once the death certificate is issued and after that brief police investigation, we’ll be rich. Darling, 15 million.”

My debts are paid, and we can start a new life far from here. Another pause. I know, I know. There will be no mistakes this time. Tomorrow night, Carmen will be just a memory. The call ended. Carmen lay in darkness. Her body trembled uncontrollably, but it wasn’t a tremor of fear; it was a tremor of rage so pure and intense.

She took a deep breath, dried her tears, picked up her phone—the recording, everything had been recorded from the studio. She sent a message to Marcos and to the lawyer Morales; it was perfectly captured. Then she sent a message to Isabel. “All the evidence captured. I’ll send you the villa’s location soon,” she said, putting down her phone.

She heard Javier leave the studio, then the sound of water running in the bathroom. A few minutes later, Javier entered the bedroom. He lay down next to Carmen. Carmen felt the mattress move. She felt his arm encircle her waist from behind. He pulled her close in a hug. “Tomorrow is the big day, darling.

“Javier whispered into her hair, thinking she was asleep. “A great day for us.” Carmen held her breath, letting her killer embrace her, knowing this would be their last. And tomorrow, tomorrow would be a great day, the day of the trial. The morning of the second day of her departure was very different from the first. Where before there had been naive joy, now her heart was filled with a cold, sharp focus.

She woke early and said her morning prayers, praying with more fervor than usual. She wasn’t pleading for salvation, but for the strength to finish what she had started. She wore a simple blouse and a cream-colored scarf. Beneath the scarf, around her neck, the defiant pendant Marcos had given her rested against her skin, cold as a protective talisman. Javier, on the other hand, woke up with tremendous energy. He was humming in the bathroom.

He ironed his own shirt, something he almost never did. He looked 10 years younger, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Carmen knew what that weight was: his gambling debts. And she, Carmen, was the walking solution. “Ready, darling?” Javier asked. His smile was wide. He picked up his suitcases, the same ones that now held the tracker and the audio recorder. “Ready, darling,” Carmen replied, forcing a slightly nervous smile.

Her nervousness was real, but for a different reason. The trip to the airport was both real and surreal. Javier wouldn’t stop talking. He talked about the weather, how impressed the clients would be with her presentation, how understanding and kind he was to her for rescheduling the trip.

Every word he said fueled Carmen’s raging rage. The pendant around her neck was engraved with each of his lies. “You’re a blessing, Carmen. Truly.” Javier took Carmen’s hand in the car. Carmen looked at that hand. The same hand that would push her off the cliff. She suppressed a wave of nausea. “You are too. I would do anything for you.” They arrived at the terminal.

The same crowd, the same bustling atmosphere. But this time Carmen was no longer the prey. She walked through the sea of ​​humanity with a definite purpose. She looked around for Marcos or his team, but saw no one. Marcos had told her that his team would blend in, but that they would always be there. She had to trust him.

They arrived at the same airline’s check-in counter, and as if by fate or design, they found themselves in the exact same queue. Carmen’s heart raced. She saw a familiar face behind the counter. It was Isabel. She was assisting another passenger, her expression professional. Then it was her turn.

Javier stepped forward, placing his ID and tickets on the counter. “Two for Málaga,” he said cheerfully. Isabel looked up, and her eyes met Javier’s. Isabel’s professional smile froze for a moment. Her face instantly tensed. She clearly recognized Javier. Javier, for his part, took a few seconds.

He glanced at Isabel, and then a thin, arrogant smile appeared on his lips. He had recognized his former lover. “Isabel,” Javier said softly, with a hint of contempt. “So you still work here.” Isabel’s face flushed with anger, but she suppressed it. She looked at Carmen, who was standing behind Javier. Javier, in his boundless arrogance, turned to Carmen. “Darling, say hello.”

This is Isabel, an old acquaintance. Then he looked back at Isabel, deliberately putting his arm around Carmen’s waist and pulling her closer. And this is my wife, Carmen. It was a show of power, a slap in Isabel’s face. Javier was saying, “Look, I left you and now I have everything.”

“My submissive wife and soon her money.” Isabel glanced at Javier’s arm around Carmen’s waist. She looked at Carmen. This was the moment. Carmen’s eyes met Isabel’s. There was no longer panic in Isabel’s eyes. There was only a determination as great as Carmen’s. Isabel didn’t need to say anything. She simply looked at Carmen and then nodded—a small, almost imperceptible nod. The signal was clear.

Message received. The plan is underway. The team is ready in Malaga. Be careful, Carmen. Carmen responded with a slow blink. Understood. Isabel returned to her computer. Her hands trembled slightly as she typed. “Put the luggage here, please,” she said in a neutral voice, avoiding eye contact with Javier. “Thank you, Isabel.

“It was a pleasure seeing you again,” Javier said triumphantly. He had no idea he had just interacted with the two women who would be his downfall. They walked toward the waiting room. “An old acquaintance?” Carmen asked, playing her part. “Oh, nothing. Just someone I met a long time ago in the industry.” Javier waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

Let’s get something to drink. For the rest of the time, in the waiting room, Javier couldn’t stop smiling. He felt on top of the world. He’d escaped the first warning. He’d managed to fool his stupid wife and had just flaunted his victory in front of his ex-lover. His arrogance would be his downfall. They boarded the plane.

This time, no drama, no stomach aches. Carmen sat by the window. Javier beside her. During the two-hour flight, Javier continued his performance as the perfect husband. He offered Carmen a pillow and massaged her shoulders. “Nervous?” he asked quietly. “Just hoping this project ends soon,” Carmen said.

“Oh, it’ll be over much sooner than you think,” Javier said again, with a double entendre. He offered Carmen orange juice and hot tea. Carmen remembered her search history. Lethal dose of sleeping pills. “Just water, darling. Bottled water.” She made sure the bottle was sealed before opening it herself.

Javier seemed slightly disappointed, but he quickly hid it. Carmen pretended to be asleep. She rested her head against the window, but her ears were alert. The pendant under her scarf recorded everything. Javier’s sigh, him ordering another coffee, his fingers drumming nervously on the armrest. He was eager, eager to kill. Darling.

Javier shook her gently, whispering, “We’ll land soon.” Carmen opened her eyes. She saw the lights of the city of Málaga below. Her heart began to beat faster. This is the battlefield. They landed, collected their luggage—the suitcase, now a silent electronic witness. As they left through the arrivals terminal, Carmen saw a man in a blue jacket holding a sign that read, “Mr. Javier, Villa Acantilado.” That must be the man Valeria sent.

“There’s our car,” Javier said, relieved. They climbed into a dark luxury van. Carmen sent a quick message to Isabel and Marcos from the new phone hidden in her bag. Vehicle arrived. Cliffside villa. The drive from the airport to the villa took more than an hour. They left the splendor of the city behind, taking quieter roads and then a winding road along the coast.

Increasingly isolated. Carmen glanced back. A standard black sedan maintained a distance of about three cars behind them. Marcos’s team wasn’t alone. Finally, the van passed through large wooden gates and climbed a hill. Cliffside villa. It was beautiful, truly beautiful.

Perched atop a hill with a direct view of the endless blue sea, its beauty was unsettling. There were no other houses around, only a dense forest and the sound of waves crashing into the sea below—the perfect place to make someone disappear. When the van pulled into a luxurious open-air lobby, a woman came out to greet them.

She was tall and slender, with long, flowing black hair that contrasted beautifully with her immaculate white linen dress. Her face was lovely, with a perfectly practiced smile. But her eyes were as cold as a shark’s. This was Valeria. Welcome to Cliffside Villa. Mr. Javier, Mrs. Carmen, she said in a voice as soft as silk. I’m Valeria, the villa’s hostess. We were eagerly awaiting your arrival.

Carmen felt Javier’s hand on her back tense for a moment. “Thank you, Valeria. This place is incredible,” Javier said in his professional voice, but his eyes couldn’t lie. There was a glimmer of admiration in them. “Please, come in, come in.”

“I’ve prepared some welcome drinks for you,” Valeria said, leading them toward a seating area with a sea view. As they walked, Carmen saw him. A fleeting glance between Javier and Valeria. A subtle smile shared between two accomplices. They thought Carmen was captivated by the scenery. Little did they know she was analyzing their every move. The pendant around her neck faithfully recorded the interaction. They sat down.

Valeria served coconut drinks. Carmen just licked her lips. “How was the trip?” Valeria asked. “It was peaceful.” “Very peaceful,” Javier said with a small laugh. “Much more peaceful than the first one.” He patted Carmen’s hand.

My wife was a little under the weather last week, but she’s completely recovered now, right, darling? That’s right. Carmen said, smiling at Valeria. I didn’t want to miss such a beautiful view. Oh, you’re right, Mrs. Carmen, Valeria said. And it’s come at the perfect time. Oh, why? Carmen asked. Valeria pointed west, where the sun was beginning to set. The sunsets here are legendary. Really, people say it’s one of the best on the island.

We have a special place at the far end of our property. A private cliff. The view. Ah, it’s like being at the end of the world. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat. She was saying the same words she’d heard on the recording. “Wow, that sounds amazing,” Javier said, feigning enthusiasm. “We have to see it, darling.” “Of course,” Valeria said.

Then she paused, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “Although I could guide you myself after you’re settled in your room, in about an hour.” She stopped. “You could also go yourselves. The path is very easy to find and very romantic, just the two of you.” There it was. Valeria was giving them the space for the accident.

He was ensuring his own alibi by not being at the scene. “That’s a great idea,” Javier said quickly. “We prefer privacy, of course.” Valeria’s smile widened. “Your accommodations are ready. Let me show you.” Their room was stunning, a private bungalow with a small pool and panoramic sea views. Javier immediately opened the glass doors and stepped out onto the balcony.

This is crazy, Carmen. It’s perfect. Carmen knew what she meant by perfect. It’s beautiful, darling, she said softly. She immediately went to the bathroom and locked the door. She took out her new phone. Her hands were shaking violently. She texted Marcos, “Cliff at the end of the property in an hour.” Romantic.

Just the two of us. The response was instantaneous. We’re already in position. We know the way. Don’t worry, his pendant is emitting a strong signal. Stick to the plan. We’ll move when he does. Carmen took a deep breath. She splashed cold water on her face. When she came out of the bathroom, Javier was waiting for her. He had changed his clothes. Come on, darling. He held out his hand.

The sun doesn’t wait. Let’s create a beautiful memory. Carmen swallowed. She took her husband’s hand. Let’s go. The walk to the cliff took 15 minutes. It was a beautiful path lined with tropical flowers. But as they walked, the sound of the waves grew louder, and the atmosphere more secluded. Carmen kept clutching the pendant under her scarf.

It was her only anchor to reality. She looked around. Where was Marcos’s team? She didn’t see anyone. She had to trust. Finally, they arrived. The place was just as Valeria had described. It was breathtaking. A grassy field that ended abruptly, giving way to a steep cliff that plunged down to the rocky sea below.

The waves crashed against the reefs with tremendous force, and before them, a huge orange ball, the sun beginning to touch the horizon. The landscape was as beautiful as it was deadly. There was no one else there, just the two of them. And the sound of the waves. “What do you think, Carmen?” Javier said softly. He was standing behind her.

I told you I’d give you a trip you’d never forget. Carmen gazed at the sunset. It’s breathtaking. “Good,” Javier whispered. Carmen felt the atmosphere shift. She turned slowly. Javier was a few steps away from her. He wasn’t looking at the sunset anymore; he was looking at her. And for the first time since they’d arrived, his smile was completely gone. His beautiful face had become a cold, lifeless mask.

His eyes were empty, devoid of love, warmth, and calculation. “You know, Carmen?” he said, his voice as calm as if they were having a normal conversation. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, about the best way to do it.” Carmen was sure her heart was pounding so hard Javier could hear it. “What do you mean, darling? What have you been thinking about?” Javier laughed softly, a dry, humorless laugh. “About this, about us, about you.” He took another step closer.

Carmen instinctively stepped back. Her feet were now just meters from the cliff’s edge. “Stop pretending you don’t know, Javier,” Carmen said, trying to keep her voice steady. Javier raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you did know. Because of that flight attendant. I should have known. Never mind. It makes it easier.” “What does it make easier?” Carmen challenged him.

Javier took another step. You should have kept pretending to be sick, Carmen. You should have kept being the stupid, submissive wife. Now he was right in front of her. Behind Carmen was the sunset. In front of her, her monster. “Too bad,” Javier said, his voice cold and hard. “Your journey ends here.” The edge of the cliff was whipped by the cold sea breeze.

The sun was now half-set, painting the sky orange, purple, and blood red. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below was like a roar. There, at the end of the world, Carmen faced the man who had just pronounced her death sentence. “Your journey ends here.” Carmen held her breath. This was the moment.

The pendant beneath her scarf weighed her down like an anchor in the storm. She had to keep him talking. She needed the recording to capture his intention beyond any doubt. “Why, Javier? Why?” Carmen whispered. Her voice trembled not just from acting, but from genuine terror.

After everything we’ve been through, just for money, Javier laughed. A dry, horrible laugh that was instantly swallowed by the sound of the waves. Just for money, just lunging forward. His eyes burned with madness and greed. Fifteen million euros, Carmen. Do you know what that means? It means freedom. It means a new life, something you could never give me. And Valeria, Carmen pressed, taking a small step back.

Her feet now touched the damp grass right at the edge of the precipice. “You’re doing all this for her? Valeria is smarter than you,” Javier shouted. “She saw your courage, a courage I haven’t seen in a long time. You’re worth more dead, Carmen. She planned everything. She’s a genius, and I’ll share her with her. You, on the other hand, will just be a sad story.” An accident in which the poor wife slipped while taking a selfie.

He took another step. Now they were only an arm’s length apart. He held out his hand. “Come on, Carmen, make it easy. Turn around and jump,” he heard. “No,” Carmen said. Javier stopped. “What did you say?” “No,” Carmen repeated louder. Her terror was replaced by burning anger. “I’m not going to die here. You’re the one who’s going to rot in jail, Javier.”

Javier’s face shifted from arrogance to confusion, then to fury. “How dare you?” He lunged forward without bothering to act further, grabbing Carmen roughly by the arms. “Who do you think you are to challenge me?” Carmen staggered backward. The edge of the cliff was now right behind her heels. Suar screamed. “She’s finished.”

“Give me my money,” Javier roared. He began to push Carmen back, toward the void. Carmen resisted, scratching, kicking. This was no longer a trap; it was a fight for survival. “Help, help!” she cried. “No one can hear you,” Javier bellowed. “Only us and the sea.” “Are you sure about that, Javier?” a third voice said.

A soft, cold female voice cut through the air. Javier froze, momentarily loosening his grip on Carmen. They both turned. Valeria was at the start of the path, about 10 meters away. She was no longer wearing the white linen dress; she was wearing black trousers and a jacket. Her beautiful face was contorted with impatience. “Javier, why are you taking so long?” Valeria called out.

“I’ve been waiting at the villa. Why is she still standing?” Javier looked surprised to see her. “Valeria, I told you to wait at the villa. You’re ruining your alibi.” “What alibi?” Valeria hissed, moving closer. “The alibi that she fell. Just push her already. Let’s get this over with.” Carmen backed away from Javier, panting, but now she was trapped between Javier and the approaching Valeria. “Did you hear that?” Valeria glared at Carmen.

This is the end for you, stupid girl. Now die. Valeria gestured to Javier. Now, Javier, or I will. Javier, as if emerging from a trance, focused again on Carmen. His face hardened. She’s right. I should have ended this sooner. He and Valeria began to move toward Carmen together. They were going to push her. Carmen looked at the two figures.

The monster she had married and the demon who had poisoned him had sealed his fate. The pendant around his neck had engraved it all: Javier’s intention, Valeria’s complicity, a complete confession. This was the moment.

Just as Javier and Valeria were two steps away from her, ready to swing, Carmen raised a hand, not to resist, but as a signal, and shouted, “Not a cry of fear, but a single command, full of rage.” Now there was a heartbeat of silence. Javier and Valeria stopped, confused. Then, from behind the dense bushes to the left of the path and from behind a large rock to the right, the darkness erupted into action. “Police, don’t move. Get down.”

Six figures dressed in black burst onto the lawn. Marcos was at the front, leading a fully armed team of local police. Powerful flashlights instantly illuminated Javier and Valeria’s faces, blinding them. Time seemed to stand still.

Valeria’s face went from arrogance to pure terror. She let out a high-pitched, terrified shriek and turned to flee. Two officers tackled her instantly, knocking her to the ground. She screamed and writhed. Javier’s reaction was different. He froze. He simply stood there, blinded by the lights, his mouth agape. He looked at Carmen, who was now standing tall, not backing down. Then he looked at the officers surrounding him.

“No, it can’t be,” she whispered. “Hands up.” “Now,” Marcos shouted. Javier slowly raised his hands. His face was a mask of disbelief, defeat, and immense hatred. Two officers handcuffed him behind his back. The click of the handcuffs was the sweetest sound Carmen had ever heard. It was all over in 30 seconds.

Marcos immediately ran to Carmen, who had begun to tremble violently as the adrenaline subsided. “Mrs. Carmen, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Carmen shook her head. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She touched the pendant around her neck. You have it. Marcos pulled out a small receiver. Blanket smile. Every word from your journey ends here until you push it all the way through.

Everything was recorded with crystal clarity. Irrefutable evidence. Carmen finally felt her legs give way. She almost collapsed, but Marcos caught her. “Take them away,” Marcos ordered. The agents began escorting Javier and Valeria back along the path. Valeria was sobbing hysterically. Javier remained silent, but his eyes never left Carmen, a look full of venom.

As they passed by her, Carmen stood tall. She looked Javier in the eyes. She no longer saw the man she had loved, only a defeated stranger. “Why, Carmen?” Javier whispered hoarsely. “Why didn’t you just die?” Carmen didn’t answer, she simply stared at him until Javier finally looked away.

Total defeat. Marcos handed Carmen a satellite phone. Call your lawyer. Call your friend. Let her know you’re safe. Carmen took the phone, looked up at the sky. The sun had completely set. All that remained was a faint red trail on the dark horizon. She looked up Isabel’s number. On the other side of the island.

In a small hotel room, Isabel’s phone rang. She answered it with trembling hands. “Hello, Carmen.” Carmen took her first breath of air like a free woman, the sea breeze fluttering the ends of her scarf. “It’s over, Isabel,” Carmen said. Her voice calm. “They’ve been caught. We did it.” News of the arrest shook the local media.

The story of a husband who, along with his lover, tried to murder his wife for the insurance money in a luxury villa. It was too dramatic a story to ignore, but for Carmen, it was a bitter reality she had to see through to the end. Lawyer Morales flew to Málaga as soon as he received the news. He took charge of the case with the coldness of a true professional.

The evidence Marcos and his team had gathered was overwhelming, almost perfect. “There’s no way out, Ms. Carmen,” said attorney Morales, as Carmen gave her official statement at the police station that night. “We have the recording of the intent in the studio, we have the recording of the attempted murder on the cliff, we have the flight attendant’s testimony.”

We have the insurance policy. This case is closed. In another interrogation room, Javier and Valeria’s alliance crumbled. As soon as they realized the game was over, they turned on each other. Valeria, the mastermind, suddenly became the victim.

“I didn’t know anything,” he told investigators. “It was all Javier’s idea. He was the one with the debts. He told me he was going to divorce his wife and marry me. He said it was the only way. He forced me. I was just the villa manager. I didn’t know he was going to kill her.” Meanwhile, in another room, Javier listened to the recording of his own voice on the cliff.

Her face was drained of blood. “It’s a trap!” she screamed. “She set me up. That woman, Carmen, she planned it all.” Then, when the investigators mentioned Valeria’s name, her fury exploded. “It was all that woman’s idea. That demon. She poisoned my mind. She told me to take out the insurance. Ask her. She’s the mastermind.” Blaming each other was useless.

The audio evidence from Carmen’s pendant clearly proved that both were equally complicit on the cliff. The trial began three months later. The courtroom was packed. Carmen sat in the front row with attorney Morales, wearing a simple cream-colored scarf. She had to testify.

As she walked toward the stand, she passed Javier and Valeria in the dock. Valeria kept her head down, weeping silently. Javier stared at Carmen, his eyes red and filled with hatred. Carmen looked at him emotionlessly. He no longer had any power over her. “Ms. Carmen,” the prosecutor said. “Could you tell us what happened on that cliff?” Carmen spoke. She recounted every word, every threat, every shove.

His voice was firm. The climax of the trial came when attorney Morales requested that the audio recording from the pendant be played. The courtroom fell into absolute silence. First the sound of waves, then Javier’s voice. “Your journey ends here.” A collective gasp rippled through the room.

They heard Carmen’s terrified voice. Then Javier’s furious voice. “15 million euros. Carmen.” And then Valeria’s voice. “Push her already. Let’s finish this.” Several people in the courtroom gasped. The judge closed his eyes for a moment, listening intently. The jury stared at Javier and Valeria with open disgust. Isabel was next to testify.

She approached the stand. Her flight attendant uniform stood out in the room. She told everything. Her affair with Javier, her guilt, the warning on the napkin. “It was wrong,” she said. Her voice trembled, but it was clear. “I had an affair with another woman’s husband, but I couldn’t allow that husband to murder his wife.”

Her credibility as a key witness strengthened the case. She was an unexpected heroine. The verdict was swift. The defendants, Javier and Valeria, were found guilty beyond a reasonable doubt of attempted premeditated murder and insurance fraud. The judge struck the gavel, sentencing them to life imprisonment. Valeria screamed hysterically and finally fainted in her chair.

Javier didn’t react; he simply stared straight ahead, his face blank as if his soul had left him. Then he turned his head toward Carmen. Carmen looked at him. Finally, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Not a tear of sadness, but of relief. Justice had been served. Months later, Carmen obtained a quick divorce using the evidence of Javier’s infidelity and crimes.

The court granted all her requests. The house and all the shared assets became hers. The €15 million insurance policy was, of course, canceled and annulled. Carmen’s life slowly returned to normal. She moved out of the house, which was too full of bad memories, and started her own small consulting firm, using her professional experience.

One afternoon, Carmen was sitting in a café in Madrid. Isabel, off duty, was sitting across from her. “So, what are your plans now, Carmen?” Isabel asked. Carmen smiled a genuine smile. “I’m going to Japan. A real business trip this time.” “Congratulations, Carmen,” Isabel said. “You deserve it.” “We both deserve it,” Carmen said, taking Isabel’s hand.

Thank you for everything. We saved each other. Isabel smiled back. A week later, Carmen was back at the airport. Terminal 4 was as busy as ever, but this time she was alone. She was dragging her own suitcase. Her scarf was a bright yellow, radiating a new energy.

She walked toward her boarding gate. She walked lightly, she walked freely. Far away, in a cold, dark cell, Javier received a letter. It was his first letter in months. There was no return address. He opened it with trembling hands. Inside there was no letter, only a piece of paper, a folded white napkin. Javier looked at the napkin.

It was an airport napkin, identical to the one he’d once seen in Carmen’s hand. He clutched the napkin in his hand. Finally, he understood. He hadn’t lost on the cliff. He’d lost in the terminal. He’d lost to the woman he thought was stupid, he’d lost to a scrap of napkin in a prison cell. For the rest of his life, Javier finally began to cry. Yeah.