Leandro had a gentle voice, and he constructed sentences with poise. He chose words the way a perfume maker chooses fragrances for his formulas. Despite herself, Victoria discovered that she was beginning to relax; the fear that had seized her was slowly disappearing. The food, hot and delicious, the warm air issuing from the radiators, and the serene and fatherly presence of Leandro were making her want to let go. “How I wish all this were true.”

“Was I right, or wasn’t I? About the croissants, I mean.”

Victoria nodded timidly.

Leandro wiped his lips with his napkin, folded it slowly, and pressed a service-bell ringer on the table. A door opened instantly, and a waiter appeared. He removed the breakfast service without saying a word or looking at Victoria once. Alone with Victoria again, Leandro adopted a sorrowful expression, crossed his hands on his lap, and lowered his eyes. “I’m afraid I have bad news, Ariadna. Your husband, Ignacio, has passed away. I’m terribly sorry. We arrived too late.”

Ariadna felt her eyes filling with tears. They were tears of anger, because she had known that Ignacio was dead without having to be told by anyone. She pressed her lips together and looked at Leandro, who seemed to be considering her state of mind.

“Tell me the truth,” she managed to utter.

Leandro nodded repeatedly. “This isn’t going to be easy, but please listen to me. Afterward you can ask me whatever you like. But first I want you to see something.”

Leandro got up and walked over to pick up a folded newspaper lying on a small tea table in a corner of the room. He returned to the table and handed it to Victoria. “Open it.”

She took the paper without understanding. She opened it and looked at the front page.

DEATH OF MINISTER MAURICIO VALLS IN TRAFFIC ACCIDENT

Victoria let out a stifled scream. The newspaper fell from her hands, and she began to sob and moan uncontrollably. With utmost tact, Leandro approached her and gently put his arms around her. Victoria allowed herself to be hugged and took refuge in that stranger, trembling like a child. Leandro let her lean her head on his shoulder, stroking her hair while she shed the tears and the pain she had accumulated all her life.

3

“We’d been investigating Valls for a long time. We opened the case after a report from the compliance commission of the Banco de España detected some financial irregularities in the transactions of the National Consortium for Financial Restructuring—a consortium that had been presided over by Miguel Ángel Ubach, your father . . . or, I should say, the man who passed himself off as your father. For some time we’d been suspecting that the consortium was just a smokescreen, rubber-stamping everything that had been expropriated, or simply stolen, during and after the war, to be shared among a chosen few. Like all wars, ours ruined the country and further enriched a few who were already too rich before it started. That’s why wars are fought. In this case, the consortium was also used to repay favors, pay for betrayals and services, and buy silence and complicity. It was a means to attain promotion for many—among them, Mauricio Valls. We know what Valls did, Ariadna. What he did to you and your family. But that is not enough. We need your help to get to the bottom of this.”