The waitress listened to the Arabs and warned the millionaire. What he did next left everyone in shock. That night, like many others, Libia pulled her hair up in a tight bun. He adjusted the black apron that matched his perfectly ironed white shirt and took a clean notebook.

He arrived 15 minutes before his turn. As always, I knew that in that luxury restaurant neither a distraction nor a mistake was allowed, much less when it came to tables with important customers. The viewpoint had a reputation for being discreet, elegant and extremely reserved with the matters that were discussed there. Many times businessmen, politicians and even artists closed deals, discussed projects or simply ate in silence, knowing that the waiters did not ask questions or get into conversations.

That was just what made Livia special, always present, but invisible, fast, attentive, intelligent and without making a sound. night. However, something wasn’t going to go as usual. From the moment he walked through the door of the restaurant, he noticed something strange in the atmosphere. The main hall was already fuller than usual for that hour.

There was a group of men in suits sitting at table number six, all with foreign accents speaking in low voices, but with that attitude that tells you that they are discussing something big. Libya gave them a quick glance, as it did with everyone. It wasn’t out of curiosity, it was part of his job. Reading the table, knowing what kind of attention they needed, anticipating their requests.

At one of the tables at the back, number 10, he recognized Santiago del Valle. It was not the first time I had seen him there. He was a well-known businessman, one of the most powerful in the country, owner of several technology companies, hotels and even an airline. He was always accompanied by his lawyer, a guy named Mauricio Cota, very elegant, serious and somewhat arrogant.

The head waiter approached her and assigned her three tables for that night, including number six. He told her to be especially careful with them. that they should not ask questions, that they should be attended to quickly and without errors. According to the reservation registry, they were Arab investors who had asked for total privacy and spoke little Spanish.

Libia nodded without saying anything and went for the bottle of wine they had ordered. As she poured the glasses, she heard a few phrases that made her frown. His command of Arabic was not perfect, but he understood it better than anyone could have imagined. One of the men said something about figures, fake accounts, documents, hidden clauses.

At first he thought that perhaps he misunderstood the words, but when another mentioned the name of a Mexican company and a transfer operation, everything fell into place. They were talking about fraud. They were planning how to scam someone and that someone apparently was Santiago del Valle himself, sitting just a few meters away, relaxed, without imagining anything.

Libia felt a small blow to her chest. That weird feeling that comes when you know you’re about to do something that’s going to change everything. He looked around. No one seemed to notice anything. The other waiters followed their normal rhythm. The chef shouted orders in the kitchen. The diners were talking, laughing, toasting, but she was trapped between two tables and information she couldn’t ignore.

He knew that he shouldn’t get involved, that his job wasn’t that, but he also knew that if he didn’t do anything, someone was going to lose millions. And not because he was stupid, but because he trusted the wrong people. It was then that it occurred to her to write a note, nothing direct, nothing that could compromise her if someone else read it.

On a napkin, in his simplest handwriting, he wrote in English, “Review the contract before signing. There are hidden details that he has not been told.” It was as neutral as he could have thought. He did not mention names, or facts, or culprits, but he knew that with luck that would be enough to arouse Santiago’s attention.

He walked to table 10 with a new bottle of mineral water, poured it calmly and as he removed the empty glass he left the folded napkin next to the plate. No one noticed, or at least that’s what he thought. He returned to the kitchen trying to keep his face calm, but inside he was a bundle of nerves. It was not the first time that I heard strange things between businessmen, but it was the first time that I understood so clearly what was happening.

What she did not expect was that just 10 minutes later, Santiago’s head of personal security, Ramiro, a corpulent, serious man with an unfriendly face, would enter the kitchen and ask her to speak. He took her to the back hallway, where there were no cameras or other employees nearby. He asked what had happened to Mr. del Valle.

Libia pretended not to understand at first, but Ramiro insisted. He told him that they saw him leave a note, that it could be serious. She calmly replied that it was just a kind phrase, that sometimes customers leave comments or thanks and that it was nothing important. Ramiro didn’t seem convinced, but he had no way to prove anything. He let her go with a warning.

If she was into something, she had better say it now. She looked him firmly in the eye and told him that he was just doing his job. Then she returned to the living room as if nothing had happened, but now she knew that she was all the way in. Santiago, meanwhile, had the napkin in his pocket. I had read it once, then again.

And although he did not understand what it meant, something made a noise in him. He looked at Mauricio, who was standing talking to Arab investors and laughing with a drink in his hand. I had known him for years. He had always been her trusted man, but at that moment, for some reason, something inside him told her that she should be careful. Libia returned to table six with the next course.

As he placed the plates precisely, he heard another phrase that ended up confirming what he already suspected. One of the men said in Arabic that after the signing the Mexican could not back down because everything would be legally sealed. And then, laughing, they mentioned that they didn’t need him to know everything, just enough for him to sign.

That was enough. There was no longer any doubt. They were planning to trick him and she was the only one in that room who knew. I didn’t have much time. In less than an hour they were going to close the deal. She needed to think fast, find a way to stop it without being kicked out of the restaurant or getting in trouble. He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and made up his mind.

If no one else was going to do something, then she would do it. Because at that moment I wasn’t just a waitress, I was the only person in that entire restaurant who understood what was about to happen and wasn’t going to sit around watching it be destroyed without lifting a finger. Libia returned to the kitchen with her head full of ideas and her heart beating fast.

In her work she was used to hearing important things without saying anything, but this was different. This was a direct blow to a person who was right there. At that moment, a few meters from her. It was like watching someone walk straight into a ravine and not say anything to them. What he had done with the note was a quick attempt, a first step, but now he knew that was not enough.

If the guys noticed, they could speed up the signing. And if the lawyer, that Mauricio, was part of the plan, then any movement Santiago made was going to be watched. She had to do something else, something that no one expected of her, something that would dismantle the plan without arousing suspicion. He took a tray of bread fresh from the oven and walked straight to table six.

As he placed the pieces, he pretended to stumble a little, as if his shoe had gotten stuck in the carpet. The tray made a small metallic noise as it touched the table and one of the businessmen, who looked like the boss, looked up. He asked her in a dry tone if she was okay. Libia apologized in English with a friendly smile.

Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he asked a little question in Arabic. He told them that bread was baked in the restaurant, but that if anyone was allergic to nuts, it was better to avoid it. He said it in a low voice, as if he only wanted to take care of the customer, but what he really wanted was to see their reactions. The boss looked at her with half-closed eyes, he didn’t say anything at first, then let out a slight laugh, as if he didn’t care, he replied that there was no problem, that everyone ate everything, but it was already clear that now they knew that the waitress understood something about his

language. It was a subtle warning. Liia left with an empty tray, but now with the certainty that she could not continue listening without taking risks. At that moment, another group of people arrived at the entrance of the restaurant. They were not clients, they were part of Santiago’s legal team, three men dressed in dark suits who came straight from the office to deliver some papers.

Mauricio got up to greet them, spoke with them for a few minutes at the entrance, then returned with a folder under his arm. Libia watched them from the bar. I knew that folder had the contract. It was official. They were ready to close the deal. He had minutes left. he thought of going directly to Santiago, telling him everything, telling him the truth bluntly.

But that could end badly if he didn’t believe her, if Mauricio intervened, he could make her look crazy. And besides, in the middle of a place full of witnesses, that was not going to be easy. I had to find a way to stop the signature without having to talk so much, something more direct, more accurate.

He went into the employee bathroom, took out his cell phone and looked in his contacts for someone he hadn’t seen for more than a year. Her friend Brenda had worked together at another restaurant, but now Brenda was in the financial analysis area of a private bank. She was good, reliable and, above all, fast. He sent him a message with three names that he managed to hear at the table of the Arabs.

He just put, “Do these guys ring a bell? Urgent. They’re getting me into something weird.” Brenda responded in less than 2 minutes. One of the names was on a list of customers observed for suspicious transfers. Another appeared in an internal investigation into movements of unbacked money in accounts in Asia. The third, nothing. But with those two I had enough.

Libia thanked him, put the phone away and went out again as if nothing had happened. He washed his hands, took a deep breath, and prepared to make his next move. He returned to the living room just as Mauricio was handing Santiago the folder with the contract. Arab businessmen watched him carefully.

Some smiled, others pretended that nothing was happening. Santiago flipped through the folder calmly, but he didn’t seem to be reading carefully. Maybe he trusted Mauricio so much that he didn’t even check the details anymore. Libya could not stand by and watch. He took a bottle of white wine and went to Santiago’s table.

When he arrived, he said with a smile that he was bringing them a special complimentary bottle from the restaurant. Mauricio tried to say that it was not necessary, but Santiago accepted. As I poured the cup to her, Libia bowed slightly and said in a low but firm voice. Please refer to clause 4.6. Trust your gut. Santiago looked at her quickly, without saying a word, but now she was alert.

Mauricio realized that something strange was happening, he tensed up, asked if everything was okay. Santiago did not answer. He took the folder again, went straight to clause 4.6 and read it silently. He frowned, read again, then got up from the table and said he needed a quick call. He took the folder and went to the back hallway.

Mauricio tried to go after him, but Santiago told him that he did not need it. Investors looked at each other confused. Libya took advantage of that moment to withdraw. He went to get the tray of desserts, but instead of taking it to his assigned table, he left it on a side bar and walked away. He knew that he had stirred up the hornet’s nest and now anything could happen.

Ramiro appeared again. This time he didn’t call or question her, he just looked at her from afar with a different expression, as if he understood that she was doing something more than what was seen. She held his gaze for a second. It was not a challenge or fear, it was a decision. Minutes later, Santiago returned to his table.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t smile, he just put the folder away. he ordered another glass of wine and told Mauricio that he had changed his mind, that he would not sign anything that night. Mauricio was cold, he tried to argue, but Santiago cut him off with a gesture. I want to review the contract more calmly. Tomorrow we will see him. The Arabs said nothing, but their faces said it all.

They knew something had gotten out of control. Liia felt a slight tremor in her hands. I didn’t know if I had done the right thing, but at least I had prevented the signing from being done that night. He had bought time. He walked away from the room and went to the staff area to get a glass of water. His legs trembled, not out of fear, but because of everything that had happened in such a short time.

It was incredible how a decision as simple as listening, understanding and acting could change the course of something so great. At that moment she understood that she was no longer just another waitress. And although no one knew it yet, she had just saved millions of pesos from a man she didn’t even know. Ramiro was not just any bodyguard.

He had a serious guy’s face, but it wasn’t just about his face. The man had a history. He had trained in Israel. He had worked with politicians, businessmen, even with private security forces in Colombia. Santiago trusted him as if he were his shadow, because on more than one occasion he had already saved his skin, and not from small things.

That night, although I didn’t quite understand what was happening, I knew something was wrong. She had seen the gesture that Santiago threw at her from the table, the fleeting glance at the waitress, the movement of the closed folder and the sudden change of decision. All that for Ramiro was a clear signal. There was a problem in the room. While Santiago returned to his place with a suspicious calmness, Ramiro was already moving around the restaurant, checking faces, observing behaviors.

It didn’t take much to notice that Mauricio was uncomfortable, nervous, taking long drinks from his drink and asking questions of the businessmen in disguise. But what caught his attention the most was that the waitress, the same one who had brought the wine to Santiago, was now at the back of the room, drinking water with trembling hands.

Something had happened between her and her boss, and Ramiro was determined to find out. He approached her with a firm step, without raising his voice or attracting attention. he asked her to accompany him to the service hallway. Libia looked at him for a few seconds, as if she was already waiting for that to happen. He didn’t say anything, just nodded and followed him.

Upon reaching the hallway, he closed the door carefully. The place was quiet. Only the distant noises of the kitchen could be heard. Ramiro crossed his arms and looked her straight in the eye. What did you say to Santiago? He asked bluntly. Libya did not blink. He thought about it carefully before speaking. Nothing I didn’t need to know, he replied.

How do you know what you need to know? He insisted. Because if I didn’t tell him, no one else was going to do it. She blurted out. Ramiro stepped forward. He didn’t touch her, he didn’t raise his voice, but his presence felt heavy. Where did you get that information, he asked. I listened to her. I work here. I walk between tables. I speak Arabic, English and Spanish.

It wasn’t that hard to put the pieces together. Ramiro narrowed his eyes. Until that moment, no one knew that she spoke Arabic. Not even in human resources did they have it registered. That made it dangerous or valuable, depending on the angle from which it was viewed. “And why did you do it?” he said. Because they were going to scam him.

Because they are using him, because the lawyer next to him is with them, not with him. Ramiro did not react immediately. He was silent processing what he had just heard. He looked at the door, then at the floor. Libya kept its eyes steady. He was not going to back down. What I had done was not a game.

He had risked his job, his safety, and probably his future, but he had no regrets. Look,” Ramiro said after a few seconds. “If you’re lying, even a little, I’ll take you out the back door myself, but if you’re telling the truth, then I need you to help me.” Libya did not expect that response.

She thought he was going to shut her up or even run her out of the restaurant, but that last sentence changed everything. “What do you need?” she asked. Ramiro took out his cell phone, opened a notes app and asked him to write down exactly what he had heard in Arabic. Every word, every phrase, even the names, if I remembered them. She did.

He wrote as detailed as he could, including a part where one of the Arabs talked about moving the money to a phantom account in a country without a tax treaty with Mexico. Ramiro read everything carefully, he didn’t say anything, he just put the phone away and put it in his coat pocket. Don’t tell anyone that we talked, he told her at the end. Not your teammates or anyone else.

This is serious. Libya nodded. Ramiro left the corridor first. She followed him a couple of minutes later, as if nothing had happened. When I returned to the living room, the atmosphere was colder. Mauricio was standing next to Santiago, speaking in a low but quick tone, as if he wanted to convince him of something. The Arabs looked at their watches.

One of them was talking on his cell phone, but in a very low voice. The head waiter paced back and forth, uncomfortable, as if he sensed that something was getting out of control. Santiago didn’t say much, he kept his face calm, but now his gaze swept around the restaurant as if it were a scanner. Not only did he observe, he analyzed and although he did not show it, his mind was already at 1000 per hour.

Libya returned to its tasks, but now everything was different. Every step I took, every dish I served, every word I heard had another meaning. He had gotten into the middle of a dirty play and knew that had consequences. But the strangest thing was when an hour later, when she went to pick up a forgotten tray near the bar, she found a small folded envelope, with her name written in capital letters.

He hadn’t seen it before. No one had left it in plain sight. He took it quickly and went to the kitchen to open it. Inside was a single sheet, printed return address. It was bank details, an account in Switzerland, a number, a recent movement of funds and at the end a handwritten phrase. They are not the only ones.

Libia felt a chill run down her spine. Someone else inside the restaurant was aware of everything. Someone who knew what was going on and who had left that information with her. But who? Why? Before she could think about it any longer, her boss called her to tell her that a new table had just arrived. She had no choice.

She put the envelope in the inside pocket of her apron and returned to the floor. It wasn’t just about saving a signature, now it was something much bigger. Libia left the kitchen with her head full of noise. The envelope was still folded in the inside pocket of her apron and her mind couldn’t stop thinking about that handwritten phrase. They are not the only ones.

She didn’t know who had left him, or when, or with what intention, but she did understand what it implied. There were more people involved in that dirty game. Maybe inside the restaurant, maybe at the same table in Santiago or maybe among her own. That thought was the one that made her most uncomfortable. And if any of her colleagues at the restaurant were involved and if someone was watching her beforehand, she stopped for a few seconds in front of the dessert refrigerator and pretended to check a tray.

Actually, he was thinking. Ramiro was already aware. He already had the phrases she had translated and the names that Brenda helped him confirm. Santiago, although he didn’t know everything, had already received the first warning, but that wasn’t enough. The Arabs were still there, Mauricio too, and the signing of the contract, although stopped for now, was still a threat if Santiago let his guard down.

Something else had to be done, something that would make all those people exposed without her having to shout it in the middle of the room. It was a game of pieces like chess, only here if you made a mistake you didn’t lose a point, you lost your job, your security and maybe something worse. She went to the back of the restaurant and asked to go to the manager’s office for a moment, who was not there at the time.

There they had a computer that all the waiters used to report special orders or check inventory. Libia turned it on quickly, entered her employee password and entered the system. She knew that the computer could access the list of reservations for that night with names, telephone numbers and emails of VIP customers.

He had seen it before when his boss used it. He quickly looked up the last name of one of the Arab investors, Alza. Adi, there it was. Full name, foreign phone number, email with the domain of a company that didn’t ring a bell at all. He took a photo of the screen with his cell phone, he did the same with the data of the other three men at table six.

Then she logged out, turned off the screen, and left without anyone seeing her. She returned to the room and saw that the investors were no longer so smiling. Something made them uncomfortable. Maybe the fact that Santiago hadn’t wanted to sign the contract, maybe the doubt about whether anyone else knew what they were up to. Libia walked over to the bar and noticed one of the cooks talking on the phone in a low voice.

Normally that wouldn’t get her attention, but the strange thing was that the cook had only been there for a short time. His name was Arturo. He had come in that same week and hardly spoke to anyone. He seemed reserved, shy, but now he looked restless. Libia tuned her ears. She could hear him say, “Yes, he already handed you the note. No, he didn’t say anything else.

“Yes, they gave it to him in time. Someone else was following in his footsteps. Someone knew about the note to Santiago. His heart raced. She walked away carefully, without him noticing, and went straight to the bathroom. Once there, he locked himself in the last cubicle and sent Brenda a quick message. I need you to check this company, it’s urgent.

Ileat gathered the photos of the Arabs’ data and also the name that came in the email. It didn’t take long for her to receive a response. That company does not exist in any official registry. It has a website, but it is fake. They cloned the design of another one. This is big, Libya. Where are you going? She didn’t answer, put her cell phone away and took a deep breath.

She was so involved that there was no turning back. She returned to the room with a new idea. She couldn’t make another note. She couldn’t say more to Santiago at that moment, but she could force investors to reveal something on their own, something they didn’t have prepared. She approached table six with the inbox for the next dish and before leaving the dishes she told them in Arabic that there was a mistake with the reservation, that apparently someone else had ordered the same private room for a similar meeting and that they would come to confirm shortly. It was a

A lie, of course, but a well-thought-out one. The objective was simple, to make them think that someone else knew what they were doing, that someone else could be listening to them or even worse recording. The reaction was immediate. One of them stood up and took out his cell phone. He made a quick call and began to speak in Arabic with an alarmed tone.

Another took a USB stick from his briefcase and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. That’s what Libia wanted to see, that they felt in danger, that they made a mistake. She walked away with the empty plates and went to the kitchen again. Ramiro was there, talking to someone on the radio. When he saw her, he cut off the communication. Are you okay?, he asked.

Yes. But I need you to get something,” she said bluntly. What? A way to copy the contents of a USB without them noticing. Ramiro frowned. And how do you know there’s one? Because I just saw one of them keep it like gold. That file must have all the information about the fraud.

False contracts, scanned signatures, money movements. And if they have it here, it’s because they don’t trust anyone else. Ramiro thought quickly, told him that he had a contact nearby, a technician who worked in security systems called him from his cell phone, explained in code what he needed and asked him to arrive at the restaurant through the service door, without a uniform, as if he were a supplier.

It would take about 20 minutes. 20 minutes was too long. If it was about doing something without raising suspicion, Libia didn’t stop. She asked a colleague to cover her tables and went back to the manager’s office. This time with another idea. She went inside and went straight to the forgotten objects cabinet. There they kept wallets, scarves, keys and other things that customers left without realizing it.

He rummaged quickly until he found what he was looking for, a pen with a camera. It was a promotional item that a customer left weeks ago. The manager had said that if they didn’t claim it in a month, it would go to the trash. It was the exact day the deadline expired. He put it in his pocket and returned to the living room. At that moment, Santiago got up from his table and went to the bathroom.

Libia took advantage of the crossroads and spoke to him as she passed by him. In 5 minutes I passed by the table. Six. Look at what they have in their jacket pocket. The one in gray Santiago did not answer, but he looked at her with that mixture of surprise and respect that only comes when someone has already shown you that they deserve to be heard.

Mauricio Cota had learned to hide things from a young age. His greatest talent was not oratory, nor legal knowledge, nor even his brutal memory for figures. It was his ability to cheat without anyone noticing. His specialty, moving between grays, manipulating agreements, always winning without getting his hands dirty.

He had started as a junior lawyer in a renowned law firm and at 30 he was already handling the most important contracts of the Valle group. Santiago trusted him as a brother, not out of affection, but because of results. Every time someone tried to rob or harm him, Mauricio detected it first. He always had the solution ready, he always seemed to be one step ahead.

That is why no one imagined that he himself was the one who had been digging the hole from the inside. That night, at the viewpoint, Mauricio was more restless than he let on. Santiago’s sudden change, the refusal to sign, the presence of those lawyers he had not summoned. All of that was not part of the plan. The contract had to be signed without problems.

He had already arranged everything, the investors, the documents, the dates, even the records that would make it seem that the investment was safe. If all went well, in less than 48 hours the Arabs would transfer the money to the phantom account. He would receive his secret commission and vanish from the map with a new surname in Europe.

He had been working on this for more than a year, getting his hands on small details, modifying accounting records, gaining the trust of the legal team. And now, because of a waitress with a calm face and bright eyes, everything was falling apart. From his seat, Mauricio followed Santiago’s every move. I knew him all too well.

He knew when he was angry, when he was suspicious, when he had already made a decision. At that moment he noticed it clearly. Santiago no longer only had doubts, he was beginning to see with different eyes what he had previously blindly trusted. Mauricio tried to smile, stay calm, joke with investors as if nothing was happening, but inside he was already adjusting plan B.

If Santiago didn’t sign that night, I would have to pressure him tomorrow with another excuse or find a way to get him to sign without realizing it. But first he had to know who had made him hesitate and his only strong suspicion was the waitress. It was no coincidence that just as she approached with the wine, everything changed. It was not normal for a simple employee to speak three languages.

It was not normal for me to look at her so carefully. He said something to him, he showed him something, and that was enough to ruin everything. Mauricio decided to try it. She asked the head waiter to send her to wait on a new table near the bar. A group of four people who just wanted to drink coffee. It was a trap. He knew that area had an old camera with a perfect angle.

From his cell phone he entered the restaurant’s private application. He had access because he helped install the system. He zoomed in on the image, saw her take the order, smile, go for the tray. But at the bottom of the screen, through the bar mirror, something else was reflected. It was reflected in her receiving an envelope. Mauricio clenched his jaw.

Now he was sure, that woman not only knew more than she was saying, but that someone else was helping her. He decided to move. He got up from the table with the excuse of going to the bathroom. He actually went straight to the hallway where the staff lockers were. He opened one of the maintenance compartments with his master key, a copy he had gotten months ago when he started planning everything.

Inside he had a small briefcase with false documents, a USB stick and a cell phone without registration. He took it out, turned on the cell phone and dialed a foreign number. We will not be able to sign today. Something changed. We may have to bring forward the transfer. No, don’t trust the new lawyer and make sure no one else has a copy of the USB.

He hung up and turned off his cell phone, put everything back in the locker and went out. There were no nerves on his face, no sweat, no tic. He had done it so many times that it was already automatic. He just had to buy time. If he could get Santiago not to make hasty decisions, if he could stay calm until the next day, maybe he could still move pieces and save himself.

But what he didn’t know was that that same night someone had already begun to unmask him. Ramiro, from the other end of the restaurant, was watching him. He had seen how Mauricio veered off the path to the bathroom. He followed him from afar, long enough to see that he entered an area where only the staff had access.

When he went out again, Ramiro already had a suspicion. He had no proof yet, but he knew him well enough to notice that he was hiding something. Mauricio returned to his table with a forced smile. Santiago was already sitting down drinking his glass of wine as if nothing had happened. The investors spoke in their language and checked their cell phones.

Libia, from the bar, watched everything. She was waiting for Ramiro’s signal and it came. He slowly approached and dropped a napkin at her feet. She picked it up carefully. She only had one word written on it. USB. She understood instantly. Mauricio knew. He was starting to move and that meant things were going to get harder.

What they didn’t know, neither Mauricio, nor Ramiro, nor Santiago, was that Libya had also gone ahead. On his cell phone he already had a copy of the investors’ data, Brenda’s contacts with her investigations and also a photo he took when the Arab in the gray jacket put the USB stick in his jacket. That image had already been sent to Ramiro by secure mail.

Santiago looked Mauricio in the eye, asked him something direct. Did you bring these investors? Mauricio did not hesitate. Of course. I did the whole process. We investigated, we compared, we analyzed. Did you review the final contract? Of course, each clause, A4.6 as well. Yes. And there is nothing strange there. It is only an adjustment for fiscal issues.

Santiago didn’t answer, he just watched him. It was at that moment that Libia approached table 10 with a tray of desserts and said in a casual but firm tone, “Would you like to see a second opinion on that clause?” Maybe someone else read it from another perspective. Mauricio looked at her with contained anger. Santiago raised an eyebrow, said nothing, but accepted the dessert.

As she left, she dropped another napkin, this time next to Ramiro’s chair, which was closer. No one picked it up, but everyone knew that this game of silences and glances was no longer a coincidence. Mauricio knew at that moment that everything was at risk. He could no longer trust anyone, not even Santiago, least of all that waitress who, without saying much, was throwing down the biggest plan of his career.

Libia felt her stomach churn as she watched the investors’ table from behind the bar. It was no longer just tension from what she had heard or what she knew. It was that kind of pressure you feel when you’re seconds away from doing something that can change everything.

She had come so far without breaking the role of waitress that now she had to cross a line and if she did, there was no return, because that was the point. When someone like her, who always stayed on the sidelines, decided to get to the bottom. She did it to go all out. From table six, the Arabs were no longer relaxed.

One was talking on the phone without taking his eyes off Santiago. Another looked at the kitchen from time to time and the one with the gray jacket, the one with the USB, no longer had the same attitude as before. The false smile had faded since the conversation changed tone. It was clear that something was not adding up.

There was a problem and that problem had a name and an apron. Santiago, on the other hand, no longer played to trust. After what Libia told him about clause 4.6, he locked himself in the bathroom with his cell phone and dialed one of his trusted legal advisers. He asked him to analyze that exact point of the contract and compare it to the previous draft.

The lawyer, surprised, confirmed in less than 10 minutes that this clause was not in the version he reviewed last week. it was new and most seriously, it was worded ambiguously, as if it allowed a transfer of control over an important part of his company, without him being able to claim it later.

When Santiago returned to his place, he was no longer the same. His face was still calm, but inside it was boiling. Now I needed to see everything. He needed to know who was making fun of him. And more than that, I needed to expose them right there. At that moment, Ramiro approached her ear and told her that Libya had obtained an image of a USB stick in the hands of one of the Arabs, a USB that was not registered as part of the negotiation documentation.

They had something stored there and if they managed to get it, everything could fall. Santiago took a deep breath, looked at Mauricio, who was trying to keep talking as if nothing had happened, and told him in a low voice that he would go to greet the investors again. Mauricio, with his nerves hidden under that usual smile, accompanied him. When they reached the table, he greeted them with a dry and direct courtesy.

He asked to sit with them for a few minutes. The men accepted, although they were tense. Santiago looked at them one by one. He spoke in English, but slowly, as if measuring each word. I want to make sure everything is in order before moving forward. I have received information that makes me doubt some things about the contract.

One of the Arabs, the youngest, tried to interrupt him by saying that everything was clear and that the contract was legitimate. Santiago cut him off without raising his voice. I just need confirmation if the document was reviewed with the full legal team, because there is a clause that I do not recognize. And I would also like to know what is contained in the memory that your colleague keeps in the bag.

The bomb fell like thunder. The investor in the gray sack froze for a second. Then he tried to laugh saying that he didn’t know what they were talking about, that there was no memory. That’s when Liia showed up. He said nothing. he only approached with a tray of drinks, as if it were all part of the service.

But before he left, he left a note on the table, a folded sheet. Inside was printed the image that she herself took from her cell phone. When the man put the USB away, the tension rose like wildfire. Mauricio tried to intervene. Santiago, you shouldn’t get carried away by But Santiago fell on him with a dry gesture. Did you know about this memory, Mauricio? Of course, it’s not ridiculous.

Why distrust them? Because I’m beginning to distrust you, Santiago replied bluntly. Silence, not a single sound, just the sound of the air in the restaurant and the distant murmur of the other tables that still didn’t know what was happening. One of the investors stood up and said in English that the meeting no longer made sense, that if there was no confidence it was better to cancel.

Santiago got up too, took out his cell phone and dialed a number. Ramiro, bring it. In less than a minute, Ramiro arrived with a laptop in hand, put it on the table, turned it on and showed a copy of the contract with the digital signature prepared. And along with that, an image of the modified clause compared to the previous version, Santiago asked them to explain how that change was made, who authorized it and why it was worded that way.

None of them answered. Then Ramiro took out a small black box, connected it to a laptop and said, “If you have the memory, we can check its contents right here. We’re not going to touch anything, just read it.” The investor in the gray jacket refused. He said he didn’t carry any USBs. Santiago crossed his arms. Well, then I don’t sign anything.

Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. This smells like fraud and I am not going to let myself. Mauricio no longer had arguments. His face changed. For the first time you could see the fear in his eyes. His plan was collapsing. He tried to speak, but Santiago stopped him. I gave you everything. I entrusted you with my company, my dealings and you come out with this.

Libya, in the distance, did not take its eyes off them. I couldn’t hear everything, but I understood. I knew that at that moment history was changing, that the plan of the Arabs was falling and that Mauricio was exposed. What he didn’t know was that there was still more to go, that this was only halfway there, because just as Santiago and Ramiro were about to leave with the laptop in hand, the investor, who had not spoken until now, an older, bald, serious one stood up and said something in Arabic.

It was a short sentence, but the tone was different. It wasn’t a threat, it was like a confession. Libia managed to hear him. We are not the only ones interested. There’s someone else inside. And that changed everything again. Libia heard the bald investor’s phrase from the other side of the restaurant and her body froze.

That phrase, “Is there anyone else inside?” he blurted out with that calmness that only comes from knowing that no matter what happens they have a more hidden card. And that someone was not Mauricio, it was not the guy with the gray jacket with the USB, it was not the three who were on that table, it was another, one that neither Santiago nor Ramiro had detected, one that until that moment had remained invisible.

That detail, that piece of truth was what they lacked to understand why the movements of the contract were so well calculated. Mauricio was part of the game, but he was not the only one. At that moment, Santiago turned his head towards Ramiro. They didn’t say a word, but the look was clear. We had to find out who else was involved.

And quickly, the investors tried to get up from the table, but Ramiro stopped them with a dry phrase. He asked them to sit there while the legal team arrived at the restaurant. He had already called his people. In a matter of minutes everything that was happening was going to be documented.

Mauricio tried to hide it, he stopped, walked a few steps towards Santiago and told him that it was surely a confusion, that there was nothing strange, that this guy, the bald one, was just looking to intimidate them to force better conditions, but no one believed him anymore. His voice no longer sounded confident and the worst thing for him was when he saw Livia approaching with something in her hand.

The USB stick. Everyone looked at her at the same time. No one understood how he had achieved it, not even Ramiro. But Libia didn’t say anything, she just handed it directly to Santiago staring at him. He took it without asking. Then he looked at Mauricio with a mixture of disappointment and anger that needed no explanation. Ramiro took out his laptop, plugged in the memory and waited for the system to read it. The files loaded fast.

There were five folders, one with scanned documents, one with names and accounts, one with emails, one with draft contracts, and one called Backup MC. No one asked what those initials meant. Mauricio Cota was already sweating. She wiped her forehead with a handkerchief and took a step back.

Ramiro opened the folder of documents. The first thing that appeared was a copy of the original contract and then an edited PDF with clause 4.6 modified. Then, an email sent from a private address to one of the investors with precise instructions. how to present the changes without raising suspicion and at the end a spreadsheet with bank movements that linked a foreign account with a front company created two months ago.

The holder of that account, a name that froze Santiago, Esteban Villarreal, that was one of the financial directors of his own company, a guy who had been with him from the beginning, someone who had access to everything. It wasn’t just any name, it was part of his inner circle. That explained how investors had managed to squeeze in that clause without anyone noticing, how they knew exactly what words to use, how to adjust the legal language to make it seem legitimate.

And the worst thing, Mauricio was not the brain, he was the operator, the bridge. Santiago clenched his fists. Ramiro put the USB away immediately. I knew they now had real proof. Mauricio said nothing. His face was transformed. He was no longer trying to lie or justify himself, he just took a deep breath and looked at the ground as if he knew there was no way to clear his name anymore.

It was then that Santiago got up from the table, raised his voice without shouting, but enough for everyone nearby to hear him. This contract is cancelled. From now on all dealings with you are suspended and you, Mr. Cota, are officially out of my company. Ramiro, don’t let anyone leave this room until the police arrive.

The words fell like stone. Investors tried to protest, but there was no longer room for excuses. Mauricio did not move, he did not try to flee. He seemed more concerned about what was coming next, because he knew that if that name Esteban Villarreal had already come out, what was coming was much bigger than a simple ruined dinner.

And in the midst of it all, Libya was still standing there, not hiding. No one understood how he had done it, how he had gotten the USB, how he had read what others did not see. Only Santiago knew that without her everything would have gone to the Ramiro approached her. Where did you get the memory? On the jacket. I took advantage when one of the investors got distracted.

He had left his coat hanging on the chair. I just took it. I rushed to the manager’s office, made a quick copy, and got it back before he knew it. Ramiro looked at her as if he couldn’t believe it. Santiago, from his place, listened to the answer and let out a slight laugh, not of mockery, of admiration. Then he approached her. You knew from the beginning.

Not everything, I just knew that something didn’t add up. Then I put it together. And why did you get involved? because what they were doing was a mess and you didn’t deserve it. Santiago nodded. Do you know that it could have cost you your job? Yes, but I slept peacefully. At that moment, two plainclothes officers entered. Ramiro received them and explained everything in a low voice.

The police officers first approached the investors, asked them for identification documents, then approached Mauricio. He was told he couldn’t leave the restaurant until the digital information review was finished. Mauricio didn’t say anything, he just handed over his cell phone and wallet.

He allowed himself to be escorted to one of the private rooms where he would be interrogated while the experts arrived. Santiago stood in the center of the restaurant with the USB still in his hand. He looked around, saw his lawyers, the staff, the other diners, who were beginning to notice that something out of the ordinary was happening. And then he looked at Livia.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve already lost my hunger. She smiled relieved. And now, now it’s my turn to clean up my company and I think you’re going to help me with that. How do we talk tomorrow? Today you did what no one else dared, but what’s coming is another level. Santiago did not sleep that night. He arrived at his apartment after 2 in the morning with the USB still stored in the sack and a thousand things going around in his head.

Ramiro had accompanied him to the entrance of the building, but he did not go up. He stayed in the truck with his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, as if waiting for something else to happen. It had been a crazy night. Yes, but also a warning. The betrayal came from within and if Esteban Villarreal was involved, things were deeper than they seemed.

Meanwhile, Libia was also awake, sitting on the edge of her bed, her uniform still on and her cell phone in her hands. He had several notifications, but he did not review them. I was in a different way. That kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from the body, but from everything else, from what you carry inside when you know that your life is no longer the same as it was a few hours ago.

He knew he had crossed a boundary, but he didn’t regret it. If I had to do it again, I would do it without thinking. The next day, Santiago sent for her to his office. Not through Ramiro. He himself marked him. It was direct. You can come at 12. I have something to show you. Libya hesitated for 2 seconds before answering. Of course, I’ll be there.

When he arrived, the building where the offices of the Valle group were located seemed a completely different world from the restaurant where he worked for the last two years. Marble floors, huge windows, receptionists in elegant suits, glass doors, cold atmosphere, business silence. They made her go into a meeting room where Santiago, Ramiro, two lawyers and a guy with glasses who looked more like an engineer than a financier were already there.

No one looked at her strangely, on the contrary, when she entered, Santiago stood up, greeted her with a firm handshake and offered her a coffee. Thanks for coming. I swear this isn’t going to be normal, but I need you to be here. Libia sat down without letting go of her nerve. Santiago opened his laptop, plugged in the USB and projected the content onto the room’s giant screen.

One of the lawyers had already separated everything into folders, original contracts, modified versions, emails exchanged between Mauricio and investors, transfer receipts and most delicately, several forged digital signatures. All that was there. Orderly, clear, impossible to deny, the plan was perfect. They passed off the Arabs as new investment partners.

The contracts simulated a technological investment, but what they really did was to transfer property rights over the most profitable part of the group. A software company that worked with governments in Latin America. Esteban from the inside modified the accounting systems to hide the movements. Mauricio covered the legal part and made sure that the final contract passed without anyone reviewing it with a magnifying glass.

Until clause 4.6 appeared. Ramiro read it aloud in the same tone that someone reading a sentence would use. The lawyers had it underlined. At first glance it seemed like an exchange rate adjustment clause, like many others, but when analyzed well, what it did was open a legal door so that in the event of international structural changes, the receiving company, that is, the Arabs, could make decisions without needing direct authorization from the original owner. Translated.

Once signed, they could move assets, change managers or even transfer shares to a third party. All legal, all consented. When Santiago finished reading it, he looked at everyone present. You see what I almost signed. Libia looked at him in silence. I didn’t understand all the legal terms, but I did understand what it meant. They were going to take control of his company from him and the worst thing is that they were going to do it using his signature as if he had allowed it.

The engineer in the background took the floor. We also detected a series of emails that connect meetings with Esteban. They mention him with codes, but it is clear that it is him. They call it the canal or the one that cleans. And they knew that for how many years. He was always discreet, but now that we have access to his computer, there is a folder with backups.

The last few weeks he has been moving files. Maybe he suspected something might go wrong. Santiago snorted loudly, as if trying to get all the anger out of his body. Then he looked at Livia. Did you know anything like this? No, I’ve never heard that name before. I only saw what I heard that night. Well, thanks to that we are saved. One of the lawyers asked what they planned to do. Santiago was clear.

He was going to present everything to the tax authorities, but first he was going to clean house. And for that I needed new eyes. People who were not contaminated, people who were not afraid to see things that others overlook. Libia looked at him like, “Are you telling me?” And he confirmed it with a dry phrase, I want you to work with me by my side.

I need you to review conversations, meetings together, to listen, to see what others don’t see. And if you hear something strange, to tell me directly. “I,” she blurted out in surprise. You were more useful than half a room of lawyers. And all for paying attention. That’s the talent I want here. Libya remained silent.

a few seconds. Then he asked something that had been stuck since the night before. And what is going to happen with Mauricio? It’s finished. Just yesterday he resigned. Today we are going to denounce him for fraud, but what worries me is not him, it is what we have not seen. I want to know if there are more like him, if there are other channels inside. Libia nodded and when she said yes, it was a yes without half measures.

I knew it wasn’t just any job, it wasn’t a change from restaurant to office, it was getting into a world full of secrets, traps, lies, but I also knew I could do it. He had already shown it. Mauricio woke up with swollen eyes, a dry throat and a heart like a stone that did not finish falling.

He was not in his apartment or in a hotel. He was in a gray room inside a government office, with a half-filled statement sheet in front of him and an officer sitting to his right waiting for him to speak. The night before he had been held for a special check-up, no handcuffs, no screaming, no scandals.

But he knew well what that meant. He was no longer a professional in trouble, he was a guy sunk up to his neck. There was no lawyer by his side. The one who had been his defender for years, his buddy in shady dealings, sent him a message that same morning. I can’t represent you. We are no longer part of the same team. Cold, sharp.

Mauricio understood. No one wanted to be stuck to him. No, now he looked at his cell phone. 37 missed calls. Most of them were unknown, five voicemails, all with the same tone. It is urgent that we talk. They are investigating everything. Don’t mention my name. But it was too late for that. The USB with the documents had ruined it.

The emails, the movements, the contracts, everything pointed to him. His signature was on papers that, although illegal, were real. He had footprints everywhere and the worst thing was that he had underestimated everyone. To Santiago for trusting in his loyalty, to Ramiro for thinking he was just a brute bodyguard, and above all to Livia, that waitress he didn’t even know, who had passed by him 1000 times without him noticing what was in his head.

He thought he could control the move, that they were all pieces on his board, but it turned out that someone else was playing better. In the middle of the morning they moved him to another room, this time with a view of the city from a high window. A prosecutor was waiting for him there. He was young, with a light suit and sharp eyes. He was carrying a thick folder in his hand.

He sat down in front of Mauricio, opened the folder and began to speak bluntly. You are involved in a network of business fraud, use of false documents, money laundering, and forgery of electronic signatures. We have direct evidence. The only thing you can do now is cooperate. Mauricio listened to him without moving. The prosecutor continued.

We know you didn’t work alone, and if you give us names, if you give us access to your personal emails and accounts, we can negotiate something better for you. Mauricio took a deep breath. The play was there. He knew that the only thing that could save him, at least a little, was to throw the others away. But that had consequences, not with the law, but with the people I had worked with.

These people did not send demands, they sent warnings that came in the form of envelopes, anonymous calls or accidents. “I’ll think about it,” he finally said. “You don’t have much time,” the prosecutor replied. Today at 6 o’clock the request for arraigo comes in. They left him alone again and in that silence for the first time Mauricio felt really lost.

He had no escape, he had no power, no one was going to reach out to him. Meanwhile, in the offices of Grupo del Valle, Santiago was preparing to show his face. It convened an extraordinary meeting with its core team, including area directors, strategic partners, and board members. The room was full. Libia was sitting in a corner without wanting to attract attention, but without missing a single detail. Santiago took the floor.

He didn’t mince words. Last night we discovered a fraudulent operation within our company. Mauricio Cota was directly responsible for contract manipulation that would have put the control of one of our most valuable subsidiaries at risk. People looked at each other in surprise.

Some already knew it, but others barely knew about it. Santiago continued. The investors involved are already under investigation and the most serious thing is that there are indications that Esteban Villarreal, our financial director, was involved as an internal contact. His office has already been secured. All the information will be handed over to the authorities.

The atmosphere became dense. Nobody said anything. Santiago looked at them one by one. This is not going to be swept under the rug. I don’t intend to protect anyone. And whoever has something to confess, this is the time. No one spoke. Ramiro took the floor afterwards and presented a folder with the technical findings. Then they projected part of the contents of the USB with key names, dates, figures.

And finally Santiago looked down and said, “And if all this was known, it was thanks to a person who didn’t have to do it, but he did. Libya, can you stand up? She froze, she never expected that. He stood red-faced, not knowing what to say. Santiago looked at her seriously. I want everyone to know that this woman saved the company because she listened, she paid attention, she connected the dots, because she saw what no one else saw.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then one of the members began to applaud, another joined in and in seconds the whole room was applauding, not with scandal, but with respect. Libia didn’t know what to do, she just looked down and sat down again. This afternoon the news began to come out. Mauricio Cota, former lawyer of Grupo del Valle, under investigation for business fraud.

Photos of the restaurant appeared in some places, but none showed relief. No one knew who she was, and that made her feel calm. I wasn’t looking for fame, I just wanted to do the right thing. Although it was too late to go back, he was now part of that world. In his old restaurant, El Mirador, the rumors did not take long.

Some colleagues congratulated her secretly, others looked at her with suspicion. The manager called her to offer to come back when everything calmed down, but she had another path. Santiago wanted her by his side, not as just another employee, as a key player. And while Mauricio signed his statement with trembling hands in a windowless room, knowing that his career was over, that his name no longer meant anything out there, the woman who ruined him was still moving, not making a sound, not shouting victory, but leaving her mark on him.

every step. It was almost 11 p.m. when the head waiter at the viewpoint received a call he did not expect. At first he answered in the same friendly voice as always, thinking that it was a last-minute reservation or a special request from some heavy customer. But on the other end of the line, the voice sounded different, direct, official, cold.

He was from the financial intelligence area of the police. They informed him that that same night a discreet investigation team was going to show up at the restaurant with an order to review documentation. recordings and entry records. It was not a raid. They didn’t want to make a fuss. They only needed to confirm certain information and take statements from some employees.

The head waiter hung up and stood in the middle of the corridor that connects the main living room with the kitchen. He was sweating. His instinct told him that all this had to do with what had happened days before, with that strange night in which the Arab businessmen left without signing. in which Mauricio disappeared and in which Livia, his quietest waitress, became the center of everything without anyone understanding it.

He called the manager, explained everything. The manager, who was at home half asleep, put on his shoes without hanging. He told him not to talk to anyone until he arrived, not to say anything to the employees, to keep everything normal. Outside, on one of the side streets of the restaurant, two black vans with tinted windows were already parked.

Inside, plainclothes officers reviewed documents on tablets, checked lists, names, photographs. The protocol was clear, enter without visible weapons, do not raise your voice, do not intervene with customers who were dining, just enter, ask for what is necessary and leave. But they were ready to act if someone tried to escape or hide something.

Libia was at home when her cell phone rang. It was Ramiro, he said in a calm but firm voice. Libya, at this moment the police are going to the restaurant. They are going to talk to the employees who worked that night. You among them. Don’t panic. It is not against you, on the contrary, it is part of the closure of the investigation.

I have to go. Yes. If you can, arrive in less than an hour. You bring everything you have of information. We’re not going to let anyone entangle you. She didn’t hesitate. he changed quickly, put away his cell phone, the notebook where he had notes of what he heard that night and a USB copy of the data that Brenda gave him, not because they asked him to, but because he knew that it was better to have everything clear in case someone wanted to play crooked with him.

Upon arrival, the main entrance of the restaurant looked the same as always. Customers dining, soft music, warm lights, but inside there was tension. Two men in suits were talking to the head waiter at the reception. Another was going through a list next to the manager who had just arrived with a pale face. No one raised their voices, but the presence of the agents was felt in the air, as if the atmosphere had changed completely.

One of them saw her enter. He approached him calmly. Are you Libia Torres? Yes. Can we talk to you for a moment? Of course. They took her to a private room at the back. Two more agents were there with laptops, tape recorders and folders. They offered him water. She accepted it, sat down, and took a deep breath. We are going to ask you some questions about the night when the dinner with the foreign businessmen was held. Do you remember the date? Yes.

It was four nights ago. Perfect. Do you remember what exactly you heard? Yes, I have notes. He took out the notebook and put it on the table. He also took out the USB. This is a copy of the information I got myself. The original is already in the hands of Mr. Santiago del Valle’s team.

The agents looked at each other, surprised. One took the USB and connected it to his laptop. They began to check. Libya, meanwhile, told them everything calmly. The conversation in Arabic, the note he left for Santiago, the investor’s movement when he put the memory in his bag, how he recovered it, how he copied it, everything. He left nothing out.

The agents took note of everything. One of them even took off his glasses to get a better look at her. He asked, “How did you know that was important? Why didn’t you let it go? Because I understood what they were saying and because what they were planning was not a mistake, it was a robbery. I couldn’t stay silent. At that moment, one of the agents who was reviewing the files on the USB raised his voice. Here it is.

These documents were not in the system. This is proof that the contracts were manipulated outside the company. Does that mean that they already have enough to proceed? Another asked. Yes, with this there is no longer any doubt. Now we need what’s missing. Confirm if there was anyone else in the restaurant who collaborated.

Everyone’s eyes turned to the manager who had just entered the room nervously with his cell phone in his hand. I didn’t know anything. I swear to you. If anyone did anything, it was without my authorization. One of the agents stood up, stared at him. And Arturo, where is he? The manager blinked. Who? The new cook, the one who was there that night, the one who spoke on the phone from the kitchen.

Ah, Arturo didn’t come back after that day. He resigned by message. He answered no more. You have their data. Yes, they are in the contracting system. Bring them in. As the manager almost ran away, one of the agents looked at Livia with a mixture of respect and admiration. You’re good. Not just anyone does what you did. I didn’t say anything out of braveness, it just didn’t seem fair to me.

The officer nodded. That’s enough. Half an hour later, the police had collected testimonies, copied files from the restaurant’s system, reviewed cameras and left the place without making a sound. Customers were never interrupted. For them, that night was just another one. But inside the restaurant everything changed.

Libia left through the back door. Ramiro was waiting for her in his truck. He opened the door for him without saying a word. She climbed up, closed it and sighed. And now what’s next? He asked. Now the good stuff begins, he answered. Libya had no idea what awaited him. The next day she thought that after the police everything was going to calm down a bit, that maybe they were going to call her again to testify or that Santiago would ask her to continue helping with some details of the case, but no, what happened was something else, something that not even in her best days would have crossed her mind

through the mind. That Friday, when he opened his eyes, he had more than 20 unread messages. Some were from his former co-worker at the viewpoint, others from numbers he did not recognize, all said similar things. You saw what came out, Libya, you appear in the news. You didn’t expect it, did you? He got up quickly, went to the living room, turned on the TV and looked for the news.

On two channels they were talking about the millionaire fraud case. They showed images of the night of the dinner, shots of the restaurant, the face of Mauricio Cota and in the background, in a corner of one of the recordings of the security cameras was her, blurred, half profile, but there they did not say her name. They only mentioned that a waitress at the restaurant had been key in preventing the scam from materializing, that thanks to her intervention, Santiago del Valle had stopped the firm and delivered strong evidence to the authorities. And although they didn’t say

moreover, the news was already everywhere. networks, in WhatsApp groups, in crossed messages between restaurant employees, in office corridors and, of course, he had also arrived in Santiago. Libia turned off the TV and thought about locking herself up all day, but at 11 o’clock she received a message from Ramiro.

You have to come to the restaurant, it’s not for work, it’s important. At first he thought it was something related to the investigation, but when he arrived he realized that it had nothing to do with it. Everything was different. It wasn’t a dinner or an event, it was something more intimate. A single table in the center of the room, decorated with white flowers, small candles and in the background Santiago waiting for her in casual clothes, without her typical dark suit, without the stress of the last few weeks.

Libia stood still for a few seconds, she didn’t understand anything. He approached slowly. Santiago got up, greeted her with a smile that she had not seen before in him. Don’t panic. It is not a trap. I just wanted to invite you to lunch. Calm, without contracts, without lawyers, without tension. She sat still with doubt painted on her face.

And all this, he said as he poured water into his cup, is a thank you. Why here? Because that’s where it all began. And because I wanted it to be in the place where you did what you did. It had to be here. Libia looked down for a moment as if she wanted to digest it all. Then he looked at him. And everything is over.

Mauricio is collaborating. Esteban is already summoned. There is a long way to go, but the main thing is underway. And are you okay? Better than I thought. They removed a bandage that I had been wearing for years. I didn’t like how they did it, but it was necessary. They ate quietly. They talked about simple things, about music, about places where they would like to travel, about what they liked to do when they were not working.

It was the first time that Libya saw Santiago as a normal human being, not as that powerful businessman that everyone respected from a distance. And he also discovered a woman who under her low profile had a brutal story, full of efforts, setbacks and difficult decisions. A woman who had learned to move on her own in life and who didn’t need anyone to save her.

After dessert, Santiago got up, went to the restaurant bar and returned with a folder in his hand. He put it on the table in front of her. What is that, Libia asked. Open it. He did it. Inside there was a work contract, but not like the ones I had seen before. This was another level. they offered her a full-time position in the financial intelligence team of Grupo del Valle with a salary that multiplied by 10 what she earned as a waitress with insurance, training, trips, everything.

But what caught her attention most was the name of the position. A special consultant for observation and strategic language, Libya looked up. What is this? It’s a place for you because you did something that not even our analysts saw coming, because you have something that is not taught in a university and because if you want you can help me prevent something like this from happening again. She swallowed.

I didn’t know what to say. “This is too much,” he muttered. “It’s not a favor. You earned it. And if you don’t accept it, I’m going to have to send you another offer, twice as good. So don’t waste my time.” Libia laughed for the first time all day. It wasn’t nerves, it was relief. And if I tell you I want to think about it, I’ll give you until tomorrow.

But if you’re not at the office tomorrow, I’m going to send Ramiro to pick you up.” “Fair deal,” she said. When they got up from the table, Santiago asked her to accompany him for a second longer. They walked together to the terrace of the restaurant. Outside, the sun was beginning to go down. Painting the sky orange. There, with the city in the background, he handed her a small box.

It’s not an expensive gift, it’s not jewelry or anything like that. It’s something I’d like you to have. She opened it. Inside was a pen. Not just any one. It was the same pen she used that night to write the note to Santiago. The manager had kept it without knowing it was important. Ramiro recovered it and had it restored.

Now she was clean with her name engraved on the side. Livia. Thank you, she said softly. Thanks to you, he replied. That night there were no promises, no toasts, no bombastic words, just two people who understood that sometimes the greatest thing one can receive is not a position, or a check, or a photo in the newspaper.

Sometimes the real prize is knowing that you did the right thing and that someone, someone with power, with resources, with influence realized and decided to play back. On Monday at 9 o’clock in the morning, Libia entered the main offices of Grupo del Valle for the first time as a formal employee. She was wearing simple but clean clothes, with a backpack on her back and her hair tied back as always.

She didn’t need heels, or a jacket, or exaggerated makeup. Her thing wasn’t to show off, her thing was to be ready. And she was. At the front desk, an assistant greeted her with a smile that seemed forced. At first, she didn’t recognize her until Livia said her full name. The girl asked her to wait a moment and quickly dialed on the inside phone.

He spoke in a low voice, but not so low that Libia could not hear when he said, “That girl is here, the one with the news.” Yes, the waitress’s. There he understood that the whole building already knew who he was. Although his name was not mentioned in the news, among Santiago’s employees things did not remain a secret for long.

In that world, rumors ran faster than elevators. Minutes later, Ramiro went downstairs to look for her. He was wearing a white shirt and dark jeans. He was relaxed, but attentive as always. He tapped her on the shoulder as a greeting and guided her to the elevator. “Ready?” “I was never more ready,” she replied.

They went up to the 17th floor. It was an open floor plan with glass offices, large desks and people with faces that lived more in that office than in their house. As soon as they entered, their eyes turned to them. Some looked at her with curiosity, others with distrust. There was one who looked down immediately, as if he didn’t want her to see him.

She noticed it, but she didn’t say anything. They took her to a small room where the head of the legal area, an accountant named Miriam and the same engineer who had checked the USB days ago were already waiting for her. The presentation was quick, everyone knew who she was. And although no one said it out loud, you could tell in the air that not everyone was happy with her arrival.

Después de las presentaciones, Ramiro la acompañó a la oficina que le habían asignado. No era grande, pero tenía una ventana, una laptop nueva, una credencial con su nombre impreso y una carpeta con los accesos al sistema. Todo formal, todo claro. Aquí vas a empezar. Esto es tuyo. No tienes que rendirle cuentas a nadie más que a Santiago.

Estamos, estamos. Ramiro le dio una palmada en el escritorio y se fue. Libia se sentó, abrió la laptop y comenzó a familiarizarse con todo. No pasó ni media hora cuando tocaron a la puerta. Era una mujer de unos cuarent y tantos, bien arreglada, con expresión dura. ¿Eres tú la nueva? Sí, mucho gusto, soy Libia. Ah, tú eres la observadora.

La pieza clave. Lo dijo con tono irónico, como si no creyera ni una sola palabra. Libia sonríó sin levantar la ceja. Solo soy la nueva, nada más. Bueno, bienvenida entonces. Cualquier cosa, estoy en contabilidad, aunque supongo que tú sabes más que nosotros. Y se fue sin esperar respuesta. No fue la última en hacer un comentario así.

Durante todo el día, varios empleados pasaron frente a su oficina, algunos saludando con cortesía fingida, otros sin disimular el desdén, uno incluso dijo en voz alta en el pasillo. Ahora resulta que cualquiera con libreta y oído se vuelve ejecutiva. Pero lo que nadie sabía era que Libia no se estaba tragando nada.

Cada gesto, cada frase, cada palabra mal disimulada la iba guardando en su memoria, no porque quisiera venganza, sino porque ahora era parte del equipo que necesitaba detectar riesgos y no había nada más riesgoso que un enemigo disfrazado de compañero. A la hora de la comida, bajó sola al comedor. No llevaba hambre, pero sí quería ver de cerca cómo se movía la gente fuera de las oficinas.

Ahí escuchó más cosas. Unos hablaban en clave, otros se callaban al verla pasar, pero el ambiente era claro. Algunos la admiraban, otros la envidiaban y otros no sabían dónde meterla. No era una de ellos, pero tampoco una extraña cualquiera. Era incómoda, inesperada, y eso, en un lugar como ese pesaba. Mientras tanto, en el mirador, los efectos de su paso por el restaurante también seguían vivos.

El gerente, que aún no sabía si debía sentirse orgulloso o traicionado, caminaba con más cuidado que nunca. Había llamado a los meseros a una reunión rápida. Les pidió que de ahora en adelante todo lo que escucharan en las mesas debía reportarse si sonaba sospechoso. Uno de los meseros soltó una carcajada.

Ahora qué nos vas a convertir en espías. El gerente no contestó, solo repitió que los tiempos estaban cambiando y que debían ser más cuidadosos. Algunos rieron, otros se lo tomaron en serio, pero todos sabían que después de lo que hizo Libia, el restaurante ya no iba a ser igual. Brenda, su amiga del banco, le mandó un mensaje ese día.

Ya me llegó tu chisme al correo. Te felicito, estrella, pero aguas, entre más subes, más te tiran. Libia respondió con un emoji y un simple. “Ya me di cuenta.” Esa misma tarde, al salir de la oficina, recibió una llamada de un número desconocido. Contestó con cautela. “Sí, Livia Torres.” “Sí, ¿quién habla?” “Mi nombre es Leonel. Trabajo en seguridad interna.

Nos gustaría hablar contigo. Es sobre lo que se descubrió en el restaurante. ¿Por qué no me hablaron antes? Porque apenas encontramos algo. No queremos hacerlo oficial todavía, pero creemos que alguien más del restaurante estaba filtrando información. ¿Quién? No estamos seguros aún, pero necesitamos tu ayuda.

Libia sintió una especie de vibración en el pecho. Otra vez esa sensación que conocía bien cuando algo grande está a punto de salir a la luz, no contestó de inmediato, solo dijo, “Está bien, avísenme cuándo y dónde.” Colgó y se quedó parada frente al edificio, viendo cómo la ciudad seguía su ritmo normal. autos, gente, ruido, pero para ella nada era normal.

Ya había pasado de servir copas a leer contratos, de limpiar mesas a detectar fraudes y ahora sin buscarlo, estaba otra vez a punto de meterse en algo que olía a trampa. Esa noche Libia no durmió bien. No era insomnio de nervios, era otra cosa. Era como si algo dentro de su cabeza no la dejara soltar el día. No paraba de pensar en la llamada de ese tal Leonel, en los rostros que había visto durante el día en la oficina, en las miradas incómodas, en los silencios de pasillo, en las frases disfrazadas de chisme que cargaban veneno. Sentía que

estaba otra vez caminando sobre terreno resbaloso, solo que ahora no era en una cocina ni con platos en las manos. Era entre gente que usaba trajes caros y sonreía de frente mientras te apuñalaban por la espalda. A las 9 en punto, Leonel la llamó de nuevo. ¿Puedes venir a la torre 3? Es donde está la oficina de seguridad interna. Sí, es ahora.

Sí, es mejor que hablemos antes de que la otra persona se entere de que estamos rastreando esto. No hizo preguntas, se vistió con lo primero que encontró, agarró su mochila y se fue. Cuando llegó, la torre tres parecía cualquier otro edificio de oficinas, pero por dentro el ambiente era distinto, más callado, más controlado.

En la entrada había cámaras por todos lados. Nada de recepcionistas sonrientes. Todo era más serio. La pasaron a una sala pequeña con una mesa de metal y una pantalla en la pared. Leonel la recibió con un café en mano y un gesto amable, pero seco. Gracias por venir, Libia. No voy a perder tiempo.

¿Qué encontraron? Leonel se sentó, conectó una laptop a la pantalla y abrió un archivo de video. Era una grabación de una cámara del restaurante de la noche en que todo pasó. El ángulo era raro, no era del salón, era del área de empleados. Mostraba un pasillo donde solo pasaban meseros, cocineros y personal de limpieza.

El video avanzó y de pronto se vio a alguien entrar a la oficina del gerente. Estaba solo. Revisaba algo en el cajón del escritorio. No sacaba nada, solo miraba rápido. Luego se iba. Eso fue 3 horas antes de la cena. ¿Quién es?, preguntó Libia. Leonel hizo sumen la imagen. La cara era clara. El uniforme también se llama Martín. Era garrotero.

Trabajaba en la parte de atrás limpiando mesas, cargando losa, pero lo que no sabíamos es que también tenía acceso a la computadora del gerente. ¿Y qué buscaba? Creemos que datos de reservaciones, nombres, contactos, correo de Santiago, tal vez. Lo peor es que después de esa noche también desapareció. Igual que el cocinero Arturo, ya no contestó llamadas ni regresó al restaurante.

Al parecer todo estaba más planeado de lo que pensábamos. Y ustedes no sabían nada de esto. Leonel hizo una mueca. Nos centramos tanto en Mauricio y Esteban que dejamos de mirar hacia abajo. Pensamos que solo era un asunto de ejecutivos, pero parece que hubo alguien más organizando detalles. Alguien que conocía el restaurante, que sabía cómo mover las cosas desde dentro sin levantar sospechas.

Libia se quedó en silencio unos segundos, luego dijo, “¿Y qué quieren que haga yo?” Leonel le mostró otra imagen. Era una captura de pantalla de un correo electrónico. No tenía nombre visible, solo un mensaje corto enviado desde una cuenta anónima. Entrega confirmada. La información llegó antes de la cena.

Ese correo salió desde la red del restaurante. El mensaje fue corto, pero fue enviado exactamente 2 horas antes de que tú pasaras esa nota a Santiago. Lo mandaron desde una laptop que estaba en el área del personal. Eso quiere decir que alguien ya había filtrado información. Alguien estaba jugando doble. ¿Y creen que fui yo? Leonel la miró serio.

No, si hubieras sido tú, no hubieras expuesto a Mauricio. Pero queremos que nos ayudes a encontrar al que sí fue y no desde la calle. Desde adentro. Libia cruzó los brazos. Desde adentro. ¿De dónde? Del equipo central. El grupo de confianza de Santiago. Él ya lo sabe y está de acuerdo. Queremos que sigas con tu puesto, pero que observes más de lo que haces.

que no confíes en nadie ni en los que parecen más cercanos. Si este plan se armó desde la cocina es porque alguien con recursos lo permitió y esa persona sigue libre. Libia no respondió de inmediato. Miraba la pantalla, los rostros congelados del video, los movimientos que pasaron desapercibidos esa noche, los minutos exactos donde alguien estuvo moviendo piezas sin que nadie lo notara.

Esa sensación de estar dentro de algo más grande que tú volvió a golpearle en el pecho. Y si esa persona ya sospecha que lo están buscando, entonces se va a mover y eso es justo lo que queremos. salió de esa oficina con una sensación extraña. No era miedo, era otra cosa. Una mezcla de adrenalina con expectativa, como cuando sabes que algo importante está a punto de pasar, pero no sabes cuándo, ni cómo ni quién lo va a provocar.

Volvió a su oficina como si nada, saludó, se sentó, encendió su computadora, empezó a revisar correos, reportes, actas de junta. Sabía que entre todo eso podía haber algo, un nombre. un mensaje, una pista. No era una investigadora profesional, pero sabía leer personas, sabía detectar cuando alguien estaba actuando y ahora todos eran sospechosos.

Al salir a comer, fue directo al comedor, no con hambre, sino con intención. Se sentó sola, observó, escuchó. A los 10 minutos vio pasar a uno de los analistas del área financiera. No la miró, pero llevaba el celular en la mano. Alcanzó a ver que lo bloqueó rápido cuando se dio cuenta que ella lo estaba observando.

Acto seguido, otro compañero se le acercó y le preguntó sin mucho filtro, “¿Qué se siente ser la favorita del jefe?” Libia sonrió. “No sé. Tú me ves muy feliz.” El tipo no supo que responder, solo se encogió de hombros y se fue. Al volver a su escritorio, tenía un sobre cerrado encima de su teclado sin remitente. Lo abrió. Adentro había una hoja blanca.

Solo decía una frase. Ten cuidado con lo que escuchas. No todo lo que oyes es real. No había firma ni sello. Solo eso. Libia no se alteró. Dobló la hoja y la guardó en su mochila. ya no estaba sorprendida por ese tipo de cosas. Lo que sí sabía es que el juego seguía abierto y que alguien en algún lugar de ese edificio estaba jugando sucio.

En menos de un mes, Libia había pasado de tomar pedidos en un restaurante con bandeja en mano a leer informes confidenciales sobre contratos millonarios, movimientos bancarios sospechosos y directivos con sonrisas falsas. Pero lo más extraño no era eso. Lo que realmente le costaba procesar era la soledad en la que se movía ahora.

Antes en el mirador era parte de un equipo, no amigos, pero al menos compañeros. Allá las cosas eran claras. Atender, servir, cobrar, limpiar. Ahora en Grupo del Valle todo era distinto. Cada saludo tenía intención. Cada correo llevaba doble fondo y cada silencio podía ser una trampa. A los pocos días de haber recibido aquella hoja anónima con la advertencia, “Ten cuidado con lo que escuchas.

” Su rutina empezó a cambiar. Primero fueron los mensajes extraños en su computadora, correos sin remitente, ventanas emergentes que se cerraban solas, notificaciones internas que duraban segundos y luego desaparecían. No tenía pruebas, pero sabía que alguien estaba espiando lo que hacía y más allá de eso, alguien quería que lo supiera.

Era una advertencia disfrazada. Santiago no le decía mucho. A veces le mandaba tareas concretas. Otra simplemente le pedía que estuviera presente en reuniones importantes, como si su sola presencia pusiera nerviosos a los demás. En una de esas juntas, un directivo de inversiones de los pesados soltó un comentario mientras revisaban una presentación.

Yo digo que mejor llamamos a la traductora de fraudes para ver si algo de esto está mal redactado. Todos rieron, menos ella. Santiago tampoco rió, solo lo miró directo y dijo, “Está aquí por eso, para que ustedes no me quieran ver la cara otra vez.” El tipo se acomodó en su silla incómodo. Nadie dijo nada más. Ese tipo de momentos se repetían más seguido.

La mayoría de sus compañeros no sabían cómo tratarla. Algunos la ignoraban como si fuera una planta. Otros la trataban con condescendencia, como si fuera una niña con suerte. Unos cuantos se acercaban solo para sacarle información o ver si podían usarla a su favor. Un día recibió una invitación a una comida informal con tres analistas del área legal.

Al principio pensó que podía ser buena idea para integrarse, pero algo no le cuadraba. Aceptó. Fueron a un restaurante cerca de la oficina, uno de esos que parecen casuales, pero donde todos terminan hablando en clave. La charla empezó tranquila, risas, anécdotas, preguntas sobre cómo llegó al puesto, pero a los 20 minutos uno de ellos soltó.

Y tú, ¿cómo supiste tan fácil que estaban haciendo trampa? Porque la verdad no cualquiera se da cuenta, ni siquiera nosotros, que llevamos años en esto. Libia lo miró sin parpadear. Escuché lo suficiente. Entendí lo que decían y luego todo se fue acomodando. Y no te ayudó nadie más porque, bueno, hay rumores, gente que dice que alguien te sopló cosas, que tú solo diste la cara. Libia sonrió.

¿Tú crees eso? El tipo se encogió de hombros. Yo no digo nada, solo pregunto. Ella terminó su bebida, pidió la cuenta y se despidió con educación. Desde ese día no volvió a salir con ellos, no porque tuviera miedo, sino porque ya no le interesaba agradar. Ya no estaba para caerse bien con nadie, estaba para hacer su trabajo.

Y su trabajo, aunque no lo dijeran con esas palabras, era oler la podredumbre antes de que el resto sintiera el mal olor. Un miércoles por la tarde, Ramiro la buscó. Le pidió que lo acompañara a una junta fuera del edificio. Era en una oficina más pequeña donde trabajaba un grupo independiente de análisis de seguridad. Al llegar la recibieron con una carpeta marcada con su nombre.

Dentro había reportes de actividad sospechosa dentro de la empresa. Había correos reenviados a direcciones externas, documentos descargados fuera del horario laboral y conversaciones registradas en los chats internos. Todo eso apuntaba a alguien que aún no aparecía en los radares, un director de desarrollo de proyectos llamado Esteban Villarreal.

¿Ese no es el que estaba mencionado en los papeles de la USB?”, preguntó ella. “Él mismo,” dijo Ramiro, pero desapareció antes de que pudiéramos confrontarlo. Pidió licencia por temas personales y se fue a Costa Rica. Oficialmente está fuera del país, pero sigue activo en el sistema, sigue entrando a su correo.

Alguien desde aquí sigue usando su cuenta. Entonces, alguien le está cubriendo la espalda. Eso creemos y por eso te necesitamos alerta. Queremos saber quién, pero no podemos hacer una cacería. Tenemos que provocarlo. ¿Cómo? Ramiro la miró con esa cara que tenía cuando estaba a punto de pedir algo que no cualquiera aceptaría.

Vamos a filtrar información falsa, algo que parezca jugoso. Un contrato ficticio con datos alterados. Lo vamos a subir al sistema y queremos ver quién cae. Y si sospechan que yo lo filtré, ese es el punto. Libia no contestó enseguida. Sabía lo que eso significaba. Ella se iba a convertir en carnada.

El cebo, si alguien picaba, la iban a ver como la que traía los datos. Y con eso, quien estuviera moviendo las cosas desde adentro saldría por fin. Está bien, pero si esto sale mal, no va a salir mal. Confía. El archivo se subió al sistema esa misma noche. Un contrato falso con números exagerados y nombres alterados, pero redactado de forma tan realista que cualquiera creería que era legítimo.

Libia lo incluyó entre los documentos que revisaba como parte de su rutina. No lo escondió, no lo promocionó, solo lo dejó ahí como quien deja un billete en el suelo a ver quién lo levanta. Dos días después, el archivo había sido abierto cuatro veces, una desde su cuenta y tres desde lugares que no estaban asignados a nadie. Cuando revisaron los registros de acceso, encontraron que uno venía desde un IP interno oculto y ese IP coincidía con uno que había enviado un correo a Mauricio Cotas semanas atrás.

Ramiro casi rompió la pantalla de la emoción. Te dije, ya picaron. ¿Y ahora qué hacemos? Esperamos. Esa noche, al salir del edificio, Libia encontró una nota clavada en la llanta trasera de su coche. Era un papel doblado en cuatro con una sola frase escrita a mano. Jugar con fuego siempre termina mal. No firmaba nadie, pero el mensaje estaba claro.

Ella lo leyó, lo arrugó y lo metió en la bolsa del pantalón. Luego se subió al coche y arrancó. iba seria, silenciosa, pero en el fondo ya no era la misma de antes. No tenía miedo porque ahora conocía las reglas del juego y estaba lista para el último movimiento. El lunes comenzó como cualquier otro, café, correos, reuniones rápidas, pero desde temprano Libia sintió algo raro en el ambiente.

No era una amenaza directa, pero el aire dentro de Grupo del Valle se sentía espeso, cargado. Los pasillos estaban demasiado silenciosos, las miradas eran más cortas. Algunos empleados caminaban rápido con el celular pegado a la mano, como si esperaran una llamada urgente en cualquier momento. A las 11, Ramiro la buscó.

Estaba serio, más que de costumbre. Vente conmigo. Ya pasó lo que estábamos esperando. Subieron juntos al piso 20, un nivel donde normalmente solo se hacían juntas entre los directivos más pesados. Ella nunca había estado ahí. Al llegar encontró una sala grande con una mesa ovalada, paredes de cristal y varias personas ya sentadas.

Estaban Santiago, tres abogados, una mujer de traje gris que no conocía y en la esquina un hombre que no esperaba ver. Esteban Villarreal, el mismo que supuestamente estaba fuera del país, el que había desaparecido, el que figuraba como cómplice en la USB, estaba ahí vivo, presente y con una expresión tan calmada que parecía de otro mundo.

Libia se quedó de pie unos segundos. Santiago la miró y le hizo un gesto con la cabeza. Pasa. Esto también es contigo. Se sentó. No entendía nada. Nadie hablaba. Esteban la observó un segundo. Luego miró al resto como si estuviera esperando una reacción. Santiago tomó la palabra. Tenemos que escuchar algo y quiero que todos estén aquí cuando pase.

La mujer del traje gris sacó una laptop y conectó un USB. proyectó en la pantalla un video. No era reciente, era de una cámara de seguridad en una oficina. Libia tardó unos segundos en entender lo que veía. Era Esteban. Estaba hablando con alguien y ese alguien era Santiago. Ambos estaban en una oficina con poca luz cerrada.

La cámara estaba en una esquina alta. Grabación interna. ¿Esto es de cuándo?, preguntó ella en voz baja. Santiago no respondió. solo alzó la mano pidiendo silencio. En el video se escuchaba claramente a Esteban diciendo, “Si quieres salir limpio, necesito que me dejes manejar esto. Yo puedo encargarme de la parte interna, pero tú tienes que mantenerte al margen.

Y Mauricio, lo vamos a usar. Él cree que es parte del plan, pero no lo es. Vamos a dejar que firme los papeles y cuando todo esté armado, tú sales como víctima. Yo me encargo de filtrar la información a la persona indicada y eso va a funcionar si elegimos bien a la persona, sí, pero tiene que ser alguien que no parezca parte del juego, alguien de afuera, alguien que se lo crea.

Libia sintió un escalofrío. En la grabación Santiago preguntaba, “¿Y ya tienes a alguien en mente?” Esteban sonrió. “Sí, una mesera habla árabe. Es discreta. Nadie la ve. La voy a empujar poco a poco. Si escucha lo correcto, va a reaccionar. Solo hay que darle el material necesario. El video se detuvo ahí. Silencio. Libia sintió cómo se le helaban las manos.

Miró a Santiago. Él la miraba a ella, pero no con vergüenza, con algo más complejo, como si no supiera por dónde empezar. Esto es real, preguntó ella. Su voz se quebró. Santiago respiró hondo. Sí, es real. Libia se levantó. Desde el principio supiste todo. Todo esto fue parte de un plan.

No fue un plan para usarte, dijo él de inmediato. Fue una estrategia para desenmascarar algo más grande. Yo no sabía si iba a funcionar. Esteban me propuso hacerlo así, filtrar la información hasta ti, usarte como puente, pero lo que no sabía era que ibas a ir más allá, que ibas a arriesgarte tanto. No fue mentira todo, Libia, pero sí hubo una parte que tú no sabías.

Ella lo miró con rabia contenida. ¿Y qué parte fue verdad? ¿El agradecimiento, la oferta? ¿O solo era parte del show? Santiago se levantó también. Yo no fingí nada contigo, no estaba en mis planes. Pero cuando vi lo que hiciste, cuando vi que te enfrentaste a todo sin tener por qué, entendí que tú no eras parte del plan. Te convertiste en otra cosa.

Libia miró a Esteban. Tú fuiste el que me dejaste el sobre en la barra esa noche. Sí. Tú sabías que me estaban observando también, pero nunca estuviste en riesgo. Te protegimos todo el tiempo hasta que Mauricio mordió el anzuelo y el cocinero y el garrotero. Eso sí fue real. Esa parte se nos salió de las manos.

Alguien más quiso aprovechar el caos. No sabíamos que había otro grupo metido hasta que fue tarde. Libia bajó la cabeza, no sabía qué sentir. Una parte de ella quería salir corriendo, otra parte quería gritar, pero una voz interna, fría, firme, le decía que se quedara, que no bajara la guardia. ¿Y ahora qué quieren de mí? Santiago se acercó despacio.

Lo que hiciste fue increíble. Lo que descubriste fue real. Y eso no lo cambia nada. Pero ahora sabes lo que hay detrás. No te ofrecí el puesto como parte del juego. Te lo ofrezco porque lo mereces. Porque si pudiste con todo esto sin saber la verdad, imagina lo que podrías hacer ahora que sabes todo. Libia lo miró largo, como si lo escaneara completo.

Entonces, todo esto fue una jugada para atrapar a un grupo mayor. Sí, un grupo que lleva años escondiéndose dentro de empresas como esta. No podíamos hacerlo solos. Necesitábamos a alguien que actuara sin saber que estaba actuando y tú fuiste esa persona. ¿Y qué pasa si no quiero seguir? Nada. Te vas.

Te damos lo que te prometimos sin rencores. Y si me quedo, entonces te conviertes en la primera persona que entra a este círculo sabiendo toda la verdad desde el inicio. Libia se quedó en silencio. No respondió en ese momento. Salió de la sala con la cabeza a 1000. Caminó por los pasillos sin mirar a nadie, bajó sola en el elevador, salió del edificio y se sentó en una banca frente al parque más cercano.

Pasaron 15 minutos, luego 30, y cuando se levantó ya tenía la decisión tomada. Sacó su celular, marcó a Ramiro. Dile a Santiago que mañana estaré en la oficina. ¿Vas a seguir? Sí, pero ya no como antes. ¿Cómo entonces? como alguien que ya vio lo que hay detrás de la cortina y colgó. Ah.