The Final Test

The Tuesday morning routine was sacred.

I unlocked the front door. Sofía started the coffee. Tony and Yulissa (who were now officially "dating," though they called it "beta testing a relationship") argued about bandwidth in the back.

I picked up the mail from the floor.

Bills. A flyer for a pizza place. And a thick, glossy magazine.

I frowned. I hadn't subscribed to this.

I flipped it over. There was a sticky note on the back in handwriting I recognized.

Thought you might want to see this. - Stevens (The Project Manager)

Stevens. The guy who had tried to kick me off the site. He must have sent it as a dig. Or maybe a warning.

I opened the magazine.

Page 42.

There she was. Catalina.

She was standing on a dune, wearing white linen, pointing at a rendering of a massive, glass eco-resort. She looked impeccable. Untouched.

The article described her "triumphant return" after "dissolving her previous partnership." It called her a "visionary of sustainable luxury."

I read the words.

“My previous work was constrained,” Ms. Sterling says. “Now, I am free to build without compromise.”

I waited for the anger. I waited for the bitterness to rise up in my throat. This woman had stolen my money, my car, and my father’s legacy. She was a fraud who had reinvented herself as a savior.

I waited for the rage.

But it didn't come.

I looked at her photo. I looked at the cold, perfect lines of her new glass tower.

I felt... bored.

It looked exhausting. The posing. The lies. The constant maintenance of the façade.

"Max?"

Sofía came up behind me, holding two mugs of coffee. She saw the magazine.

She went stiff. "Is that her?"

"Yeah," I said. "She's in Dubai now. Building glass castles in the desert."

Sofía looked at me, searching for cracks in my armor.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

I looked at the magazine one last time. Then I closed it.

"I'm fine," I said honestly. "Actually, I'm better than fine."

I tossed the magazine into the recycling bin under the counter.

"She looks lonely," I said.

I took the coffee from Sofía. I took a sip. It was strong, sweet, and hot.

"Tony!" I yelled to the back. "We need to order more cardstock. The Ministry wants brochures for the new museum project."

"On it!" Tony yelled back.

I turned to Sofía.

"I have a meeting with Raúl at ten," I said. "But are you free for lunch? I heard the chimi truck has a special."

Sofía smiled. It was the smile that had saved my life.

"I'm free," she said.

The ghost of Catalina Sterling vanished, buried under a pile of recycling and the smell of fresh coffee.