“I’m telling you, Lucia, it’s—”
“Hello, Beatriz,” Rodrigo said.
“Rodrigo! You should’ve told me you were coming back. I’d have prepared something special…”
He didn’t smile.
“I’m sure you would’ve—though you probably would’ve had Valentina do it.”
Her expression tightened briefly before smoothing again.
“She was just helping. Children need discipline.”
“Discipline?” He raised his phone, displaying a photo of Valentina’s blistered hands. “These are injuries. On an eight-year-old.”
Beatriz swallowed.
“You’re misunderstanding—”
“No,” he cut in. “I heard you. I heard you call her a servant. I heard you call me a fool.”
“That was taken out of context.”
“Then explain,” Rodrigo said coldly. “Why did you fire Rosita and María? Why is my daughter doing housework, gardening, hauling trash?”
“They were wasting money,” Beatriz snapped.
“They were protecting my daughter,” he replied. “Her job is to be a child—not your labor.”
She shifted strategies.
“You’ve always spoiled her. She’s dramatic.”
Rodrigo looked at her as if seeing a stranger.
Silence.
“How many times?” he demanded.
“…Sometimes,” she whispered.
He didn’t move.
Continue reading…
