Said one word.
“Alright.”
Lucía’s shoulders relaxed instantly.
Javier finally looked at me, relieved.
“We’ll bring you something from Rome,” he said.
I walked back to my car while they wheeled their bags toward a waiting taxi.
Before they even left, my phone buzzed.
Lucía: Please don’t come to the airport and embarrass us. We need space.
I drove home in silence.
Set the pastries on the kitchen counter.
Opened the blue travel folder.
And that’s when I saw what they had completely forgotten.
The Rome hotel lead guest: Carmen Ríos.
The private transfer required my personal confirmation.
The prepaid tours could only be canceled through my account.
The luxury suite was secured with my card alone.
Lucía had replaced me in her mind.
She had not replaced me on paper.
A minute later, Javier called. Casually. Like nothing had happened.
“Can you forward the Rome hotel confirmation to Lucía?”
“Of course,” I said calmly.
I sent one page. Just one.
The page that showed my name as lead guest and that ID would be required at check-in.
Her reply came in seconds.
Why is your name still on this?
Fix it before we land.
Then a photo arrived. The three of them smiling in the airport lounge. So confident Europe was waiting.
What they didn’t know was that I was already on the phone with the hotel manager in Rome.
And what he told me next changed everything.
He said a woman had called six days ago. Trying to transfer my suite to another name.
