The location said Maldives.

The caption read: “Celebrating life with the most generous man in the world.”

One minute later, I received a message from Ricardo.

“Forgive me, Cami. I’m still stuck in a meeting with the executives in Monterrey. I wish I could be with you. I love you.”

I didn’t cry or call him. I took screenshots, downloaded Fernanda’s stories, and saved a video in which Ricardo appeared reflected in a glass door.

My name is Camila Herrera. I’m thirty-one years old, and I work in luxury real estate investment.

Three years earlier, Ricardo had become trapped in debt because of some reckless investments. He asked me to save him, and I did. But from then on, we kept our finances separate. The penthouse belonged to a real estate company in which I was the sole shareholder. The cars and additional credit cards were tied to my companies. He had also signed a notarized agreement stating that he had no rights to my companies or those properties.