Chapter 3
Lucía did not leave after that.
She stood in the doorway like she owned the air.
I later learned she was Alejandro’s sister-in-law.
Isabela’s younger sister.
After Isabela died, Lucía had moved into the mansion “to help with Mateo.”
That was what everyone said.
But nobody said it warmly.
She wore grief like jewelry.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
Displayed when useful.
She stepped toward the bed.
“Poor angel,” she murmured.
Mateo’s eyes snapped open.
The change was instant.
His body went stiff.
His pupils widened.
A sound rose in his throat.
Not a cry.
A warning.
Lucía stopped.
“What now?” she said, irritation leaking through the sweetness.
Mateo pushed himself backward until his shoulders hit the headboard.
I turned to him.
“Mateo,” I whispered, “I am here.”
His eyes locked on mine.
The sound softened.
Alejandro watched.
Lucía watched harder.
“That is strange,” she said. “He usually hates new people.”
“Maybe he does not hate people,” I said before I could stop myself. “Maybe he hates what people do.”
Lucía’s smile turned thin.
“And what would a cleaning girl know about trauma?”
“Enough to know fear when I see it.”
Her eyes sharpened.
Alejandro’s voice cut in.
“That is enough.”
For one second, I thought he meant me.
Then he looked at Lucía.
“Leave him.”
Her face changed.
Only for a breath.
But I saw it.
A flash of anger.
Then she smiled again.
“Of course. I only worry for him.”
When she left, Mateo’s hands unclenched.
That stayed with me.
Children do not lie with their bodies.
Adults do.
Alejandro called for a doctor to examine my ribs.
I protested.
He ignored me.
The doctor said nothing was broken, only bruised.
Alejandro ordered one of the maids to bring me food.
I had not eaten since dawn.
I sat in the servants’ kitchen with a plate of chicken and rice while everyone pretended not to stare.
Doña Socorro sat across from me.
“You should be careful.”
“I know.”
“No, niña. You do not. This house eats soft hearts.”
I looked toward the ceiling, toward Mateo’s room.
“He is not dangerous.”
She sighed.
“Dangerous? No. Damaged? Yes. But damaged children in powerful houses become weapons if the wrong hands hold them.”
“Lucía?”
Doña Socorro’s face went blank.
“I did not say that.”
“But you thought it.”
She stood.
“In this house, thoughts can get you buried.”
That night, I expected to be sent home.
Instead, Alejandro summoned me to his study.
The study was dark wood, leather chairs, and shelves of books that looked untouched.
Two armed men stood outside the doors.
Inside, Alejandro sat behind a massive desk.
A file lay open in front of him.
My file.
I recognized the hospital papers.
The debt notices.
My brother’s name.
My heart lurched.
“You investigated me?”
“I investigate everyone who enters my home.”
“My brother’s illness has nothing to do with this job.”
“It has everything to do with why you took it.”
I felt shame crawl up my neck.
Then anger.
“We are poor, señor. Not criminals.”
His eyes lifted.
“I did not say you were.”
“You looked.”
“I look because people lie.”
I thought of Mateo flinching from Lucía.
“Yes,” I said. “They do.”
He leaned back.
“Your brother needs surgery.”
I pressed my lips together.
“If you are going to use that to control me, I would rather leave now.”
For the first time, he seemed offended.
“I do not threaten children.”
“Powerful men threaten whatever works.”
Silence.
My own words scared me.
But Alejandro did not shout.
He looked at me for a long time.
Then he slid a paper across the desk.
“A private hospital. A surgeon from Monterrey. The bill will be paid.”
I stared at him.
The room blurred.
“No.”
His eyebrows lowered.
“No?”
“I will not sell Mateo’s trust.”
“You are not selling anything.”
“Then why?”
“Because today my son slept for the first time without sedation in weeks.”
My stomach turned.
“Sedation?”
His face closed.
“The doctors prescribed medication.”
“How often?”
He did not answer.
That was answer enough.
“You drug him?”
“Careful.”
“No. He is four. He is grieving. He is terrified. And someone is making him sleep instead of asking why he cannot rest.”
Alejandro stood so fast the chair scraped back.
“Do you think I have not asked why?”
“I think people around you answer before Mateo can.”
His hands curled on the desk.
I should have stopped.
I did not.
“When Lucía entered, he looked afraid. Not angry. Afraid.”
The room went colder.
“Do not accuse my wife’s sister without proof.”
“I am not accusing. I am telling you what I saw.”
He turned away.
For a moment, he looked at the wall behind his desk.
There was a painting of Isabela there.
Her smile was gentle.
Her eyes followed everything.
Alejandro’s voice dropped.
“Lucía was the only family Isabela had left.”
“Family can hurt family.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
That sentence carried a history I did not understand.
He pushed the hospital paper closer.
“Your brother’s surgery will be paid whether you stay or leave.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“Why?”
“Because Mateo held you like you were safe. If you leave because I frightened you, I will deserve his silence.”
I looked at the paper.
Then at him.
“I will stay,” I said. “But not as a maid assigned to floors.”
“What do you want?”
“To stay near Mateo. To see what makes him afraid. To clean if you want. But do not send me away from him just because others do not like it.”
His gaze sharpened.
“You negotiate like a lawyer.”
“I negotiate like someone who has nothing left to lose.”
Alejandro nodded once.
“Done.”
When I returned to the servants’ quarters, a folded note waited on my cot.
No name.
May you like
Only five words.
Stay away from the boy.
