“Rodrigo… and his mother. I found out he was going to introduce Valeria as his new partner at the Christmas dinner. When I confronted him, Beatriz held my arms, and he hit me with his father’s golf club.”
Teresa felt her blood run cold.
“They told me I was no longer necessary,” Mariana continued, her voice broken. “That a wife without children, without her own money, and without an important surname was easy to replace.”
Then she coughed, and a red stain appeared on her hand.
Teresa called emergency services with a calm that seemed impossible.
“I need an ambulance at the Central del Norte. A beaten woman, possible rib fracture, internal injuries. And I need police presence. This was not a family argument. This was an attempted femicide.”
While they waited, Mariana clung to her sleeve.
“Mom… they’re cleaning the house. Beatriz said no one would believe me.”
Teresa looked up at the gray morning sky. For years everyone had believed she was just a quiet widow who sold cakes and cared for plants in Coyoacán. No one in the Salazar family knew that for almost 30 years she had been a federal prosecutor.
And Rodrigo had just made the worst mistake of his life.
That Christmas was not going to end with carols, but with sirens.
PART 2
At the hospital, the doctors confirmed what Teresa already feared: Mariana had two fractured ribs, a severe blow to the abdomen, and bruises on her arms that matched violent restraint. There were also marks on her back, as if someone had shoved her against a table.
“She will need minor surgery and absolute rest,” the doctor said. “But she arrived in time.”
Teresa listened to everything without crying. Her face was serious, but inside, every word fell like a stone.
