Chapter 47

Sebastian could feel everyone’s eyes on him, and he suspected that as he walked by, people pointed at him. Claudia had turned him into the laughingstock of the town, a joke for years to come. But he had to go on with his life, unlike his mother, who’d spent the last two days self-sedated, too abashed to step outside.

He lit another cigarette—he hadn’t stopped smoking since he left his house—and crossed the street toward El Heraldo. The guard greeted him without looking at him, as if he wanted to spare him the shame of being seen, or maybe he was trying to hide the amusement in his eyes.

Sebastian walked by the elevator. He didn’t stop, but was acutely aware of it—more so than ever.

He climbed up the stairs and sighed before entering his office.

Behind her desk, Pamela greeted him while burying her nose behind the typewriter, her cheeks bright red, as if she’d been the one stood up at the altar. Sebastian didn’t know which was worse: this attempt at normalcy or people mocking him in the street.

“Pamela,” he said. “Tell Cesar to come to my office.”

He shut his office door and sat behind his desk, pressing his forehead with his fingers. He didn’t feel like talking to Cesar today, but the sooner he took care of that problem, the better. All the drinking from the past two days wasn’t making matters any easier.

After a couple of minutes, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said.

“Hello, Sebastian.”

He raised his head.

“Here’s the cover.” Cesar set a paper on the desk. “For tomorrow.”

Sebastian held his stare. Cesar broke eye contact first.

“Is that all you have to tell me?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m sorry about your wedding?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Cesar picked up a stapler from the desk.

“You want to explain to me your situation with Hugo Sevilla?”

Cesar’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never met that man. I don’t know why that crazy woman is making up stories about me.”

Sebastian banged the surface of his desk. “Don’t call her crazy!”

Cesar took a step back. “All I’m saying is she must have me confused with someone else. I’ve never been friends with Manuel Paz.”

“I know. Manuel Paz is not her father. Hugo Sevilla is.”

Cesar’s eyes widened. “I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re making a big mistake.”

Sebastian removed a manila envelope from one of his drawers and tossed it on top of the desk. “Maybe this will refresh your memory.”

Cesar eyed the envelope.

“My mistake,” Sebastian said, standing up. “You must remember him by his real name—Enrique Hidalgo, correct?”

Cesar stared at the name written on the envelope.

“Or are you going to deny that the envelope is yours?” Sebastian said. “I found it in your office.”

Sebastian removed its contents: the newspaper article with Hugo’s picture, the man’s address in Guayaquil.

Cesar’s hand clung to the stapler. “That damn woman must have put it in my drawer.”

Sebastian clenched his fists. “I told you not to call her names.” He took a deep breath. “I just want to know exactly what happened. Were you blackmailing him?”

Cesar seemed to age in front of Sebastian. “I told you. I’ve never met that man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A man is dead, Cesar.” He picked up the phone. “But maybe you’d like to talk to the police about what really happened?”

Before Sebastian could dial the first number, a cold, hard object hit his forehead before it landed on the floor. He dropped the receiver, bringing his hand to the fresh cut above his eye. The tips of his fingers stained with blood. He glanced at the object on the floor, the stapler, and then looked up. Cesar ran for the door, fumbling with the doorknob. Sebastian darted toward him and seized his shirt, turning him around. Holding his collar with both hands, he slammed him against the door.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

“No!”

“I want the truth.”

“I swear I didn’t kill him.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because it’s the truth. Enrique was a coward. I didn’t have to do anything. He jumped all by himself. He would have done anything not to go to jail.”

“You piece of shit.”

Cesar pushed Sebastian off of him. “Why do you even care?” He adjusted his collar. “Oh, I know. You’re sweet on his daughter, aren’t you? That’s why your bride stood you up yesterday.” He laughed bitterly. “Too bad I didn’t see that coward’s daughter earlier, or else I would have made other arrangements with him. She’s a doll, isn’t she? And I’m sure old Enrique would have given anything for my silence. Money is not everything, you see.”

The match inside Sebastian’s gut turned into a full flame expanding all over his chest. He clenched his fist and swung, but before launching a punch on Cesar’s jaw, he stopped his arm in midair.

“I can’t believe my father trusted a low-life like you.” Sebastian dropped his arm. “I used to admire you. What a fool I was.”

Cesar tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

“You’re fired, Cesar. I never want to see you again.”

Cesar glared at him, fixing his tie, before he left the office.

Sebastian removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and brought it to his tender wound. It throbbed, but he was most concerned with his twisted life. In a matter of two days, he’d lost his bride, his respectability, and now his editor and right-hand man.