His gaze fell back to the crumpled document lying on the velvet cushion.

He reached down slowly, smoothed out the wrinkled corner of the paper, and stared at the dark ink stamped at the bottom.

There, plainly visible beneath the red seal of the commercial court, was my full maiden name: Elena Varela.

Alejandro stared in horror at my signature, stamped across his company’s lease default order.

Oscar set the navy blue folder on the long mahogany table, lining up its leather edge with the polished grain of the wood.

“The bank froze the commercial revolving credit line at eight forty-five this morning,” Oscar said.