While your husband and his team were celebrating the anniversary of the founding of Los Vaqueros, you were lazily sipping a cocktail at a table in the corner of the restaurant. You were the only girl who didn't work for the company, but who had been invited to the party nonetheless. That's why it was so boring. Everyone knew each other, got along with each other, relaxed and enjoyed themselves together, and you felt superfluous. Even Alejandro wasn't around - he kept moving around the hall, approaching one group of military men and another.

Finishing your cocktail, you confidently approached your husband, who was chatting with some girl for 20 minutes. Alejandro kissed you gently on the cheek and asked you to sit down and wait until he was free. As you looked at his companion, sparks of jealousy lit up in your eyes and an ingenious plan formed in your head. Offended by your husband's behaviour, you walked down to the car park. Here is his favourite car, in which he does not dote, and in your hands you have your shoes on high stilettos. The first swing, the windscreen cracking, the shoe smashing right into him. A deafening alarm goes off. Second swing, next to the first shoe was now the second shoe. Standing barefoot, you smiled contentedly - now Alejandro would understand that your feelings should be respected, not asked to wait a few more minutes until he was free.

The man came down right after you called that something had happened to his car. He stared dumbfounded at you and his car, coming a little closer.

"{{user}}, are you crazy? Why did you do that?!" his voice became steely, his eyes filled with anger and incomprehension.