Chapter 6 - MY BEST FRIEND WORE MY NAME
Claudia had not simply betrayed me with my husband.
She had pretended to be me.
Rebecca advised me not to contact her directly.
This was now potentially bigger than divorce.
Documents had been forged.
Identity had been misrepresented.
Money had moved.
The smartest thing I could do was stop giving them warnings.
So I stayed silent.
Claudia did not.
She texted constantly.
Camila, please talk to me.
You don’t know the whole story.
Alejandro pressured me.
You’re going to destroy innocent children.
That last sentence infuriated me.
The children were innocent.
That was exactly why their parents should have thought about them before building their lives on fraud.
I was discharged from the hospital six days after surgery.
I did not go home.
Under Rebecca’s advice, Sofia took me to my father’s old penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan, a property held entirely inside my separate trust.
Alejandro had no key.
No ownership.
No access.
When we arrived, the building manager handed me an envelope.
“Your husband left this yesterday.”
Inside was a letter.
Not romantic.
Not apologetic.
Strategic.
Alejandro wrote that I was “clearly overwhelmed” and suggested delaying financial decisions until doctors could evaluate my cognitive capacity.
I read that sentence twice.
Then I started laughing.
Sofia looked worried.
“What?”
“He’s changing strategies.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before surgery, he hoped I’d lose my memory.”
I handed her the letter.
“Now he wants everyone to think I lost my judgment.”
Rebecca agreed.
Alejandro’s attorney had already sent correspondence questioning whether decisions I made immediately before and after surgery were reliable.
That could have been intimidating.
Except Dr. Hayes documented my neurological testing thoroughly.
Dates.
Times.
Answers.
Orientation.
Memory.
Decision-making capacity.
Alejandro had no idea how carefully hospitals document patients undergoing brain surgery.
Then something else arrived.
Security footage from the notary’s office.
Grainy.
No audio.
But clear enough.
Claudia walked into the office wearing sunglasses and a scarf.
She signed documents.
Alejandro entered ten minutes later.
They left separately.
Sofia stared at the screen.
“That’s her.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca remained calm.
“We let investigators authenticate it.”
My anger had evolved beyond shouting.
I wanted facts so clean nobody could rewrite them.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A little girl’s voice said:
“Is this Camila?”
Every part of me froze.
“Yes.”
“My name is Lucia.”
I closed my eyes.
Alejandro’s daughter.
“I know.”
She hesitated.
“Dad said I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
Of course he did.
“Then why are you calling?”
Her voice became smaller.
“Because Mom is crying, and Dad said you’re taking our house.”
I gripped the phone.
I chose every word carefully.
“Lucia, adults are dealing with adult problems. None of this is your fault.”
She was quiet.
Then she asked:
“Did you really not know about me?”
My throat tightened.
“No.”
Another pause.
“I thought you did.”
“Why?”
“Because I have pictures of you.”
My skin turned cold.
“What pictures?”
“In my baby book.”
I sat upright despite the pain in my head.
“What kind of pictures?”
May you like
Lucia answered:
“Pictures of you holding me when I was a baby.”
