The millionaire’s mother fell to her knees with her face full of fear. “Please, stop,” she pleaded through tears. The fiancée looked at her with contempt, enjoying the power, believing that she could break her in front of everyone, but she did not know that every word, every tear was being heard by someone who does not forgive. And when the millionaire entered, his gaze made the walls tremble and his fiancée too.

The silence in the mansion was a living, heavy, oppressive entity. Doña Isabel looked at herself in the monumental mirror of her new room, a space so vast and cold that it looked like a luxury mausoleum. The burgundy dress that Alejandro had insisted on buying her felt like someone else’s armor. The fabric is an insult to his hands accustomed to the roughness of work. She had been sitting on the edge of the bed for an hour, unable to decide whether going down to dinner was an act of bravery or the greatest of cowardice.

The sound of the door, opening without warning, made her startle. It was Valeria, who entered without knocking, a habit that Isabel was beginning to notice and detest. His son’s fiancée was already dressed for dinner, a tight, white model that made her look like a marble statue. Her eyes, however, did not have the warmth of a future daughter-in-law, but the analytical cold of an inspector. “Aren’t you ready yet, mother-in-law?” asked Valeria, her voice a syrup that couldn’t hide the poison.

His gaze swept over the simple cotton dress that Isabel was still wearing, a clean and dignified garment, but in that environment she screamed humility. Alejandro is about to go down. She doesn’t want me to see her in those faces. Don’t be embarrassed. Isabel felt the blood rise to her face. Embarrassed. It’s clean clothes. Valeria and it’s mine. Of course, of course, I didn’t mean to offend, Valeria said, approaching the closet and opening it wide, revealing the wine-colored dress. It’s just that Alejandro took so much care to buy this from him.

He wants you to shine, to look like a millionaire’s mother, not like, “Well, you know, put it on. Go ahead. It will be our little conspiracy to make him happy.” The phrase was a perfect trap. Refusing would be a direct insult to her son’s generosity. Isabel nodded silently, feeling cornered. While she was changing, Valeria remained in the room watching her, judging her. When Isabel finally put on the dress, Valeria surrounded her like a shark. Much better. Now he looks like someone. Come on, let’s go down.

Lean on me, don’t fall down the stairs. It would be a real shame to stain such an expensive dress before everyone sees it. Valeria’s grip on his arm was firm, almost painful, a reminder of who was in control. At the bottom of the stairs, Alejandro was waiting for them with a smile that could have lit up the entire city. But what a pair of queens. Mom, you look spectacular. Right, my love? What does a film artist look like?

A star, my life. I told her, I just needed a little push,” Valeria replied, giving Isabel a meaningful look before guiding her into the dining room. The dining room was a display of opulence that turned Isabel’s stomach. They sat down and Lucia, the employee who had been working in that house for years and who had seen Alejandro grow up, began to pour the wine. She was a discreet woman, with an observant gaze and the only person in that place who seemed real.

Lucia, Valeria intervened suddenly, just as the employee was going to serve Isabel wine from an elegant bottle. Serve the lady the house wine, please, the one we drink during the week. I doubt she will notice the difference and there is no reason to waste the reserve. Her palate is more traditional. Alejandro, who was checking a message on his cell phone, did not pay attention to the comment, but Lucia and Isabel did. It was a direct humiliation, a slap in the face of classism disguised as domestic efficiency.

Lucia, with an almost imperceptible tension in her jaw, nodded and withdrew to bring the other bottle. Isabel felt her cheeks burn, but she kept her eyes fixed on her empty plate. “Well, family, we need to talk about the wedding,” Alejandro said, putting the phone away. I was looking at flower catalogs. “What do you think, Mom? Did you like flowers?” Isabel saw a small opportunity to participate, to be herself. “Well, my son, I’ve always liked daisies.

They are simple flowers, but very cheerful. In the courtyard of our house I had a garden full of them. Valeria let out a crystalline and condescending giggle. Oh, how tender, mother-in-law. Daisies, what a picturesque memory, isn’t it, my love? For our wedding we are thinking of something more sophisticated. Orchids brought from Thailand, maybe some black tulips from Holland, something that shows our level, you understand? Daisies are beautiful, but for a baptism in a village. Alejandro, wanting to mediate, tried again. Well, but tell Vale a story from when he was a child, Mom, so he can get to know you better.

Tell him about the time I fell from the guava tree. Isabel smiled, a genuine memory at last. Oh, that time you were about 8 years old and you climbed to the highest branch. They had a guava tree in their house,” Valeria interrupted with a curiosity that sounded more like an interrogation. “Yes, a very big one in the backyard.” “Ah, then they had a yard. I thought their house was smaller. The roof was made of sheet metal or tile. I heard that in those neighborhoods the sun heats the sheet very much.” Each question was an excavation into her humble past, designed to expose her, to underline her with a fluorescent marker of poverty in front of her son.

It was from Teja, Isabel replied, curtly. The dinner continued with that tone. Every attempt by Alejandro, to include his mother, was sabotaged by Valeria with an innocent question or a sophisticated comment that left Isabel out of place. The tension was so thick that it could have been cut with the silver knives. Then came the main course, a fish in a red chili sauce. This is my favorite dish, Alejandro exclaimed. Mom, you have to try it, but be careful, it stinks like hell.

Your mommy doesn’t care, does she, mother-in-law? You brave ones,” Valeria said, pouring Isabel a generous portion and making sure she brought an exaggerated amount of sauce. Isabel, not to snub, took a bite. The spiciness was an explosion of liquid fire in her mouth. She felt like she was choking, that the air was not reaching her lungs. Her eyes filled with tears and she blindly searched for the glass of water. It was at that precise moment that Valeria, in the midst of a laugh at something Alejandro said, stretched out her arm and with the elegance of a dancer slid Isabel’s glass just a few centimeters, just enough so that her fingers could not reach it.

The gesture was so subtle that Alejandro didn’t notice anything at all, but Lucia, who was serving more bread, saw it. She saw the intention, the calculated malice. Her face hardened like a stone. Isabel was panting, her hand clumsily tapping the tablecloth. Panic was beginning to take hold of her. Lucia, water for the lady. Quick, Valeria ordered, feigning a sudden alarm. Oh, mother-in-law, for God’s sake, how sensitive it was. I told Alejandro that this was very stingy. Lucia hurriedly filled the glass and put it in her hands.

Isabel drank desperately. The fresh water a heavenly relief for her burning throat. When she was able to catch her breath, she looked up and saw Valeria looking at her. In her eyes there was no concern, but a spark of victory. The pure pleasure of having tortured and humiliated her in front of everyone and having gotten away with it. Later, when Alejandro got up to take a business call in his office, Isabel was left alone with Valeria in the huge room. The silence was heavy, charged with the undeclared battle that had just been fought.

You saw how easy everything is when you cooperate, mother-in-law,” Valeria said, filing her fingernail indifferently. You smile, nod, eat what is served to you and remain silent. That way we are all happy and no one gets hurt. It is a very simple role for you. I suggest that you learn it well and get used to your new place in this family. Now, if you will excuse me, I will see what is offered to my fiancé.” Valeria got up and left, leaving Isabel alone on the brocade sofa, with the taste of chili and humiliation in her mouth.

and with an icy certainty in her heart. This was not a dinner. It had been the first of many battles, and she was losing them all. The next morning, sunlight filtered through the mansion’s windows, painting golden pictures on the Persian carpets. It was a scene of peace and wealth that contrasted violently with the storm brewing inside Isabel. Breakfast was a meticulously rehearsed play. Alexander, brimming with energy, talked about his agenda for the day while Valeria poured him coffee and spread jam on his bread, playing the role of the perfect bride-to-be.

He gave Isabel sweet smiles and asked her if she had slept well, questions whose answers did not interest her in the least. Well, my loves, I have to go. I have a meeting with some Japanese investors that could change the future of the company,” Alejandro said, standing up and adjusting his tie. He approached Valeria and gave her a long, deep kiss. Then he took out his wallet. “Here, my queen,” he said, handing her a platinum credit card.

“So that you can go shopping with your friends and start looking at things for the decoration of the house. Buy what you want, there is no limit. You deserve it for making me so happy. Valeria’s eyes shone with a greed that she skillfully disguised as gratitude. Oh, my life, you wouldn’t have bothered, but thank you. I’ll use it wisely. Then Alejandro approached his mother and gave her a strong and genuine hug. Behave yourself, mom. Rest, read a book, walk in the garden.

This is also your home, I want you to enjoy it. I love you very much. And I will do very well with you, my son, Isabel replied, clinging to that embrace like a castaway to a board. Alejandro left. The sound of the front door closing resounded in the silence and with that sound the spell was broken. Valeria stood in the middle of the dining room with her credit card in her hand. The smile faded from her face as if it had never existed.

Isabel, who was picking up her plate to take it to the kitchen, felt a chill run down her spine. I knew what was coming. Valeria didn’t follow her right away. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number, speaking loudly enough that Isabel from the kitchen doorway could hear her perfectly. Brenda, friend, you don’t know. Alejandro has just left me an unlimited card. Yes, without limit. No, of course not. I need it to buy some things for the house and maybe a new bag, the one we saw in the boutique.

Hey, see you for lunch? I need a break from this house. Yes, it’s just that it’s a bummer to have to entertain the mummy all day. Yes, to his mother. Oh, it’s a hopeless case, my friend. But hey, it’s all to ensure the future, don’t you think? See you at one o’clock. Kisses. Every word was a poisoned dart. Mummy. Securing the future. Isabel entered the kitchen with her heart pounding in her chest. He went straight to his little corner, his sanctuary, looking for the normalcy of his soluble coffee and cookies.

He needed that little ritual to anchor himself, to remember who he was. Valeria entered the kitchen. seconds later, moving with predatory arrogance, he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. “You know, Isabel,” he said, “her voice was now a whip. I’ve decided that I’m not even going to call her mother-in-law anymore. It is a title of respect and affection, and you and I have neither one nor the other. You have not earned that right for yourself.

I am the lady of the house and you are the permanent guest. He approached the counter where Isabel was preparing her coffee. He looked at the chipped cup, the cheap glass jar. I really don’t understand how Alejandro could get out of so much misery. This takes this crap. He asked, pointing to the coffee. Before Isabel could react, Valeria took the jar of coffee, opened it and with an expression of deep disgust, emptied all the contents onto the freshly polished white marble floor.

The dark granules spread like dirty dirt. This smells of poverty, of conformism, he said as he walked to the trash can and dropped the empty glass jar that produced a hollow, sad sound. I hate conformism and I hate dirt. Isabel looked at her in horror. But why do you do that? It was my coffee, it was garbage, Valeria shouted, her face contorted with rage. And I don’t want trash in my house, I don’t want it on my countertops, I don’t want it in my cupboards and if I could I wouldn’t want it breathing my air.

Lucia, attracted by the scream, appeared at the kitchen door with a pale face. Valeria saw her. You snapped at him. Clean up this mess and then you’re going to have to disinfect the entire kitchen. Who knows what kind of bacteria this lady brings from her neighborhood? Then he turned to Isabel, his voice dropping to a dangerous sound. I’m going to give you a list of new rules, since it seems that last night’s rules were not clear to you. Rule number one.

You are forbidden to sit on the sofas in the main room. They’re Italian silk and I don’t want it to stink up to them. Rule number two, you are forbidden to talk to my friends if they come to visit. You will lock yourself in your room and not come out until I tell you to. Rule number three. The pool is for me and my guests, not for you. Rule number four and the most important, he is forbidden to speak to me unless I speak to him first.

Their opinion, their memories and their stories do not interest anyone. I was clear enough or it needs to be drawn with apples. Isabel, humiliated in front of Lucia, could not help but nod with tears of anger and helplessness burning her eyes. Valeria smiled satisfied. Perfect, I’m going shopping. Lucia, make sure the guest eats in the utility room. Today there are lentils for the staff. Take advantage. Valera left, leaving behind a thick silence and a mess on the ground.

Lucia looked at Isabel, then at the scattered coffee. Without saying a word, she went for a broom and dustpan and began to clean up. His movements were mechanical, but his eyes were filled with a contained fury. When he finished, he approached the luxurious espresso machine, the one that Valeria had forbidden Isabel to touch. He brewed a coffee, the strong, delicious aroma filling the air. He poured it to Isabel in a fine porcelain cup and handed it to her.

“Here, ma’am,” he whispered. “Sometimes a good coffee helps to withstand the poison. It was a small act of rebellion, a gesture that told Isabel that even though she was in a golden cage, she was not completely alone.” Isabel climbed the stairs clinging to the polished wooden handrail, as if it were the last lifeline in a raging ocean. His legs felt weak, gelatinous, and each step was a monumental effort. The assault on the kitchen had emptied it of all strength.

When he reached his room, he turned the latch and leaned against the door, breathing heavily. She felt like a fugitive in her own life, a prisoner in a luxury prison. He walked to the large window overlooking the garden, looking for some air, but when he tried to open it, he discovered that the handle was stuck or locked, an insignificant detail that at the time felt like a perfect metaphor for his situation. Trapped, with no escape. The feeling of claustrophobia was suffocating.

He needed to connect with something real, with something that would remind him that his life had not always been that hell of silk and cruelty. He knelt beside his old cardboard suitcase and pulled out his treasure box. He sat on the floor ignoring the softness of the carpet and opened it on his lap. The smell of old wood and stored paper transported her to another time. First she took out the blue worsted slipper that she had knitted for Alejandro when he was a baby.

It was so small that it would fit in the palm of his hand. He remembered his clumsy fingers struggling with the needles, the illusion of feeling his little kicks in the belly. Beside her she placed her husband’s old wristwatch. It hadn’t worked for decades, but he could still feel the warmth of his skin on the worn metal. He remembered his strong hands, his hoarse laugh, and the immense emptiness he left behind when he left. Alejandro was the only thing she had left of him, the continuation of her love.

Then came the photo of the graduation of elementary school with her toothless and proud child. and the drawing of the sun. Each object was an anchor, a reminder of a life of sacrifice and a love so vast that it knew no bounds. It was that love that filled her with a sudden, fiery surge of fury. How dare that woman trample on everything she stood for? How dare he threaten the only light in his life? The impulse was stronger than the reason.

He took his cell phone. I couldn’t go on like this. Alejandro had to know the truth. I had to open my eyes. His thumb trembled as he searched for his contact in the address book. He paused on the call button, his heart pounding with unbridled force. You have to, Isabel, he said to himself in a whisper. For your son. He has to know what kind of viper he’s going to marry. But a colder, more fearful voice answered in his head. And if he doesn’t believe you, and if Valeria, with her crocodile tears and well-rehearsed lies, convinces him that you’re crazy, that you’re jealous of an old woman who doesn’t want to let go of her son, you’ll lose him.

He will kick you out of his house and his life, you will be left with nothing, completely alone and he will stay with her, trapped forever. The dilemma was tearing her apart inside. He was about to press the button, to risk it all in a desperate act when the phone screen lit up with a notification. It was a message from Alejandro. He opened it. It was a photograph. Alejandro and Valeria were in a jewelry store, both smiling at the camera. On Valeria’s finger shone an engagement ring even bigger and more dazzling than the one she already had.

Below the photo, a text. Hi, Mom. Valeria and I decided to bring forward the purchase of the rings. Isn’t it beautiful? We are choosing the symbol of our eternal happiness. Thank you for always supporting us and for loving us so much. Ok. We love you. The message was a blow to the heart. Every happy word, every sign of love for Valeria was a shovel of dirt on his hopes. She saw the photo, the radiant, undeniable happiness on her son’s face.

He saw how she looked at Valeria. She saw the future he had chosen, a future in which she, Elizabeth, was only a spectator. Telling him the truth now would not be an act of salvation, it would be an act of destruction. It would be like dropping a bomb in the middle of his paradise. With a soyo, which broke in his throat, he dropped the phone on the carpet, hugged his knees and let himself be overcome by the pain. There was no choice. Her silence was the price of her son’s happiness and as she had always done, she was willing to pay it without complaining.

She would stay, endure and become the best actress the world had ever known. Later, a gentle knock on the door roused her from her lethargy. It was Lucia with a small tray in her hands. Madam, I brought you chamomile tea and some cookies that you like. I bought them this morning at the corner store. Isabel looked at her with her eyes swollen with tears. On the tray, next to the tea, was a small packet of animal biscuits.

He profited and left the tray on the table. His voice was a knowing whisper. Sometimes in this house the walls hear and see many things, ma’am, but there are also loyal hearts. If you need something, anything, to let off steam, a glass of water that someone believes for you, don’t hesitate to look for me. She is not as alone as they want her to feel. Lucia gave him a small, respectful bow and carefully closed the door. Isabel looked at the cookies, a small beacon of kindness in the midst of overwhelming darkness and for the first time in many hours she felt that maybe, just maybe there would be a way to survive.

The afternoon became a silent battlefield. Isabel, following Lucia’s nonverbal advice, decided to go down to the living room. She was not going to be intimidated or locked up like a prisoner. She sat in one of the individual armchairs, a little way from the main sofa with a book on her lap that she couldn’t read. Their mere presence was an act of defiance. Valeria, who was planning her afternoon of shopping on the phone, noticed her and her tone of voice became more curt.

He hung up the call and went to Isabel. Wow, wow, I see that she finally came out of her cave,” he said, examining her from top to bottom. “Is the morning tantrum over or does he need us to throw another of his treasures in the trash so he understands the rules?” Isabel looked up from the book, her gaze steady. “This is also the house of my son, Valeria. I have a right to be here.” Isabel’s calm angered Valeria more than any scream.

He has a right to what I allow him to have. Don’t forget. Now, if you will do me the favor of not stinking the atmosphere with your martyr’s air, I would appreciate it. I’m trying to have a nice afternoon. Just at that moment Alejandro’s car was heard. Valeria’s transformation was instantaneous and amazing. His face softened. His posture relaxed and an expression of sweet melancholy appeared on his features. By the time Alejandro walked through the door, Valeria looked like a suffering saint.

“My love, you arrived,” she said, running into his arms. But instead of kissing him, she rested her head on his chest and sighed dramatically. Alejandro, worried, pushed her aside a little to look at her face. What’s going on, my life? Why that face? Valeria looked over to where Isabel was and then looked down as if it was hard for her to speak. It’s nothing, really, just that I don’t know what to do with your mommy. With my mom, what did you do? No, she didn’t do anything, Valeria lied with her voice trembling on the verge of crocodile tears.

It’s what it doesn’t do. I tried to talk to her, to encourage her. I offered to take her with me shopping. I asked Lucia to make her favorite tea, but she turned it all down. He doesn’t even look at me. I feel that you don’t like me, Alejandro. I feel that she hates me and that my presence in this house makes her unhappy. And I can’t stand that. It was an Oscar-worthy performance. It presented Isabel as the passive aggressor and herself as the heartbroken victim who only wanted to give love.

Alejandro, completely deceived, turned to his mother, his face a mixture of confusion and frustration. Mom, but why? Why do you treat Valeria like this? She just wants to love you, to be your friend. She goes out of her way to serve you and you despise her. I don´t understand you. Isabel was speechless. The trap was perfect. Anything he said would sound like an excuse or an attack. Son, isn’t that it, isn’t it that mother-in-law, please don’t force yourself to say something you don’t feel?

Valeria interrupted her, her voice drowned in feigned drowsiness. Okay, I get it. I am not the daughter-in-law you expected for your son, but I love him and for love of him I will bear his contempt in silence. I’ll learn to live with it. He had stolen his narrative. He had taken Elizabeth’s real suffering and put it on as a disguise. Alejandro, heartbroken by his fiancée’s pain, hugged her tightly. No, my love, you don’t have to endure anything.

You are an angel. Mom, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but this has to change. You’re hurting the woman I love. Isabel felt as if a dagger had been stabbed in her chest. Her own son, her adoration, was rebuking her to defend her executioner. I don’t, he tried to say, but his voice rose. Enough, said Alejandro. Okay, my love, I don’t want you to cry anymore. I’m going to show you how much I value your effort and your huge heart. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the blue velvet box Isabel already knew.

He knelt in front of Valeria. An absurdly theatrical scene. I bought this for you today as a surprise, but now I feel like it’s needed more than ever,” she said, opening the box to reveal the dazzling diamond necklace. To the most generous, patient and noblest-hearted woman in the world, so that you may never doubt that I do see who you are and how much you are worth. Valeria gasped, tears miraculously wiping to give way to an expression of ecstasy. Alejandro is perfect. He put the necklace on her and she threw herself into his arms giving him a long and voracious kiss.

It was a kiss of possession, an act of marking territory. And while her lips devoured Alexander’s, her eyes opened and fixed on Elizabeth’s. When the kiss ended, Valeria rose radiantly, touching the jewels that hung around her neck. He walked to Isabel, who was still paralyzed in the armchair. She bowed and in a whisper that only she could go, she told her, “Jewelry looks best when it’s paid for with someone else’s tears.” “Thank you for the gift, mother-in-law.” Then, out loud for Alejandro to hear, he added, “You’ll see that in time we’re going to get along very well.

It just takes a little effort” on his part. She turned around and took Alejandro’s hand smiling. Isabel was left alone with the echo of Valeria’s laughter in her ears and the cold of the imaginary diamonds burning her skin. The manipulation had been total. Not only had he humiliated and isolated her, but now, in her son’s eyes, she was to blame for all the unhappiness in that house. The week before the engagement party became a pressure cooker.

The mansion, which was already hostile territory for Isabella, was now the center of operations of a war that was not her own. Valeria was glued to the phone day and night, her voice a constant drill that coordinated floral arrangements, tasting menus and the guest list, a litany of important surnames that did not mean anything to Isabel. One morning, while Isabel was trying to enjoy a moment of peace in the garden, Alejandro approached her, his face lit up with emotion.

“Mom, it’s good that I found you.” Valeria and I were talking and we have everything ready to officially announce our engagement. We will have a party here at the house next Saturday. All the important people of the city will come, my partners, Vale’s family friends. It will be an incredible night. Isabel felt a cold knot in her stomach. A party, hundreds of rich and elegant strangers. He felt like a mouse being invited to a cat ball.

“How good, my son. It gives me a lot of joy for you,” he said, trying to make his voice sound convincing. “And I want you to look like the queen of the night,” Alejandro continues, oblivious to his blandness. You are the mother of the groom, you have to dazzle. At that moment, Valeria appeared, slithering across the lawn like a snake in paradise. That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, he exclaimed with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. Don’t worry about anything, my love. I will make sure that your mom looks spectacular myself.

I’ll take her shopping today and we’ll find her the perfect dress. It will be my gift to her. The offer on the lips of anyone else would have been a gesture of affection. Coming from Valeria it sounded like a threat. Isabel tried to refuse. No, no, it is not necessary. Really, I have a very nice blue dress. What a mother-in-law, please. Valeria interrupted her. with a tone of false exasperation. Don’t be modest. A little blue dress. No, no, no. You need something designer, something that is up to the event.

It’s a question of image, you know? Of the image of the family. It’s already decided. We leave after lunch. The trip in Valeria’s luxury car was a silent torture. As the chaer navigated the city’s most exclusive streets, Valeria chattered endlessly about the guest list. Senator Robles and his wife will come. You don’t know the diamonds that woman wears. I also confirmed the businessman Gastón Fernández, the owner of the largest construction company in the country.

You have to be especially nice to him. Mother-in-law is a possible investor for Alejandro. Oh, and most importantly, no telling his anecdotes about when Alejandro sold jellies on the street. Please, these people are not interested in these stories of overcoming, they find them in bad taste. You just smile and nod. Got it? Isabel did not answer. She just looked out the window, feeling smaller and smaller, more and more alien. The car pulled up in front of a boutique whose name was written in elegant gold letters.

It had no shop window, only a dark glass door that promised a world of exclusivity and exorbitant prices. Upon entering, a tall, thin saleswoman, perfectly made up, greeted them with a rehearsed smile. “Valeria, dear, what a miracle,” he said, giving her two kisses in the air. Brenda, how are you? Let me introduce you to Alejandro’s mother, her name is Isabel. We are looking for a dress for the engagement party. Something spectacular. This Brenda scanned Isabel with a quick, contemptuous look, pausing for a second at her comfortable shoes and simple purse.

Of course. For the lady we have some beautiful things that have just arrived from Milan. Follow me. The interior of the store was intimidating, dresses hung like works of art, a deathly silence, and a carpet so thick that it looked like they were walking on clouds. Valeria began to take dresses off the racks with feverish energy. Let’s see, mother-in-law, try it. He gave her a gold sequined dress with a plunging neckline and a leg slit that would have made a twenty-year-old blush.

“Valeria, I can’t wear this,” Isabel whispered horrified. “Don’t be old-fashioned. Alejandro wants to see it modern, spectacular. Go to the fitting room. Isabel tried on the dress. It felt grotesque, a caricature. As she left, Valeria and Brenda looked at her and held back a laugh. M mmm. Valeria didn’t say, pretending to analyze her. Perhaps it is too juvenile. The good, the lack of firmness in the arms stands out a lot. next. The second dress was the opposite, a high-necked, long-sleeved design in a base color so bland it looked like a shroud.

This one is more discreet, more age-appropriate, don’t you think? We don’t want people to think that they want to hang on to youth at the expense of my fiancé. Isabel tried it on. She felt invisible, erased. The color made her look sick. “I look pale,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror with discouragement. “It’s the light of the store, don’t worry. Let’s see, the next one.” The third dress was made of black velvet, elegant, but with a price that made Isabel’s stomach turn.

Valeria made sure Isabel saw the label. “Ugh, this one costs more than my first car,” he commented aloud. Are you sure she’ll feel comfortable wearing something so valuable, mother-in-law? With that sometimes his hands tremble to see if he doesn’t throw the punch on him and ruin it. It would be a tragedy. At that moment, two other customers, women from high society entered the store and greeted Valeria. Elizabeth’s humiliation was about to become a public spectacle.

After trying on two more dresses, each one more inadequate, Valeria sighed with the force of a hurricane, making sure that the newcomers heard her. “Oh, it can’t be, Brenda,” she said with a tone of frustration and sorrow. “Nothing seems to work. My mother-in-law has a complicated body and a very particular taste. I think I made a mistake in bringing it here. Maybe we should try a more modest store, you know, one of those department stores in the center where they sell clothes for simpler ladies.

The words fell like stones in the silence of the boutique. The other customers turned and looked at Isabel with a mixture of pity and mockery. Isabel felt the heat of shame rise up her neck to her ears. She wanted the earth to swallow her. It was a calculated humiliation, executed to perfection in front of an audience. She was exposed as a stranger, the poor girl whom the rich daughter-in-law tried unsuccessfully to polish. The return trip was an ordeal.

Isabel looked out the window, struggling to hold back the tears that burned her eyes. Valeria, on the other hand, hummed a fashionable song, visibly satisfied with her work. When they arrived at the mansion, Alejandro received them at the entrance. So, did they find Cinderella’s dress? He asked smiling. Oh, my love, you have no idea, Valeria replied with a sigh of exhaustion. We went through all the luxury stores, but your mom didn’t feel comfortable with anything. She’s very specialized for her clothes, but don’t worry, I didn’t give up.

from an unbranded plastic bag. She pulled out a simple dress, made of a shiny polyester and an old-fashioned cut. We passed by a little store in the center and I found this one. It’s much more his style, don’t you think? Simple, comfortable, so that she does not feel disguised. For Alejandro, who did not understand brands or qualities, the gesture seemed a sign of consideration and affection. He saw his fiancée, tired after a day of fruitless shopping, proudly presenting a humble dress for her mother.

“You are an angel, my life, always so considerate,” she said giving him a kiss. She turned to her mother, “Right, Mom? which is perfect. Elizabeth looked at the dress, the final symbol of her humiliation, and then at her son, her eyes filled with blind happiness. He nodded, unable to speak. Yes, my son, he’s perfect. She went up to her room with the cheap dress in her hands and the weight of a new defeat on her shoulders. The days following the disastrous shopping excursion became a nightmare of preparations.

The mansion was a hive of people, florists, banqueters, decorators. Valeria was in her element giving orders with the precision of a general, her voice a constant and metallic echo in the large rooms. For Isabel, every corner of the house had become enemy territory. He was trying to make himself invisible. seeking refuge in the quietest places such as the library or the furthest corner of the garden. But even there she felt the presence of Valeria, a shadow that watched over her and judged her.

One afternoon, while thirst forced her to venture into the kitchen, she met Lucia. The employee was finishing cleaning, her face tired, but her eyes always alert. At the sight of Isabel, his expression softened. Good afternoon, Mrs. Isabel. Is anything offered? Just a glass of water, Lucia. Thank you. Lucia not only poured him water, but from a small paper wrapper she took out a sweet bread, a walnut polvoron, still warm. Save this one.

I set it aside for you from the bread they give us. With so much hustle and bustle, maybe he hasn’t even eaten well. The gesture, so small and so significant, moved Isabel to tears. Thank you, Lucia. You’re very good. You have to take care of yourself, ma’am. The clerk whispered, looking nervously at the door. Be very careful today. Miss Valeria walks like a whirlwind. She is very upset because the candlesticks she asked for have not arrived. When he gets like this, he takes it out on whoever is in front of him.

Lucia’s warning turned out to be prophetic. A couple of hours later, Isabel was in the corridor of the second floor, heading to her room, when Valeria intercepted her. You, just the one I was looking for, said your sharp voice, since you are doing absolutely nothing useful, come and help me. In Trevejos’ room in the west wing there are some boxes with table linen that I need to check. Come with me. It wasn’t a request, it was an order. The west wing of the mansion was the oldest and least used.

The corridor leading to Trevejos’s room was long, narrow, and poorly lit. One of the bulbs on the ceiling flickered intermittently, creating a gloomy atmosphere. “Walk faster, mother-in-law, I don’t have all day,” urged Valeria, walking in front of her with impatient steps. Isabela continued to carry one of the smallest boxes that Valeria had foisted on her. The corridor ended in a small, steep service staircase that descended to a lower level. It was a dark and dangerous corner of the house.

Just as they were approaching the first step, Valeria stopped in her tracks. “Oh, my shoe, I think my heel got stuck,” she exclaimed. he bent down pretending to check his ankle and in a movement that seemed clumsy and accidental, he staggered backwards, colliding with the entire weight of his body against Isabel. The impact was brutal and surprising. Isabel, who did not expect it, lost her balance. Instantly he let go of the box, which rolled down the stairs with a clatter and let out a gasp as his feet tangled and his body rushed into the void of the stairs.

In a reflex act, he extended his arms and his fingers managed to hold on to the wrought-iron railing at the last second. He hung with his heart pounding and half his body over the abyss. The pull caused a sharp pain in his arm and shoulder, and his skin scraped hard against the rough plaster wall. “Mrs. Isabel!” Lucia’s voice echoed from across the hall. Alerted by the noise of the box, she had come running.

He arrived just in time to see the scene. Isabel, suspended precariously, her face pale with terror, and Valeria standing beside her, looking at her not with alarm, but with an expression of cold disappointment, as if she were annoyed that the fall had not been completed. Seeing Lucia, Valeria’s mask changed in a split second. “Mother-in-law, for God’s sake, I almost got killed,” she shouted with a perfectly acted anguish. How clumsy I am. I tripped and almost threw it away.

Excuse me, please. Lucia ran and together with Valeria who was now feigning excessive panic, she helped Isabel to regain her balance and stand up. Isabel trembled from head to toe, not only from fright, but from the certainty that this had not been an accident. His eyes met Lucia’s. In the employee’s gaze she saw the same certainty. Lucia had seen the split second of evil on Valeria’s face before the theater began.

And Valeria, in turn, watched them both and in her eyes there was an icy warning, a clear message for Lucia. You didn’t see anything. Lucia, ignoring Valeria’s menacing presence, put an arm around Isabel’s shoulders. Come on, ma’am, I’ll take you to your room. You need to sit down and drink some sugar water. What a terrible fright! As they walked away, Valeria followed her with her gaze, an almost imperceptible smile on her lips. The plan hadn’t gone perfectly, but the message had been sent.

Once in the safety of the room, Lucy helped Isabel to sit up on the bed. The old woman was still trembling. Okay, ma’am. He didn’t get hurt. The arm. My arm hurts, Isabel whispered, rubbing herself where she had scraped herself against the wall. He walked his arm and saw the reddened and scraped skin, a wound that would turn into a dark, telltale bruise the next day. “That woman is the devil,” Lucia said quietly, her face a mixture of anger and fear.

“This cannot continue like this, ma’am. What he did. That was not an accident. I saw it. I know, Lucia. I know that too. But what can we do? The fear in Lucia’s eyes was deep. If I speak, he puts me on the street in less than a minute. He will invent to Don Alejandro that I stole something, that I insulted him, anything. And he’s going to believe her. I have two children in school, ma’am. My mom is sick.

This job is all I have. I get it, Lucia. Do not worry. I won’t say you saw anything. I’m not going to get you in trouble. The alliance between them was solidified at that moment. An alliance forged in shared fear and impotence. Isabel had a witness, an ally, but she was an ally silenced by necessity, as imprisoned as she was in that golden cage. The next morning, the sun came through the window of Isabel’s room, but she did not feel its warmth.

He looked at his arm in the mirror, a large, dark purple spot stretching from his elbow to his wrist. A violet map of Valeria’s hatred. It was a physical and painful reminder of their vulnerability. She carefully put on a long-sleeved blouse, hoping that the fabric could hide evidence of the assault. The pain was dull and constant, but the pain of the soul was much deeper. She felt completely alone, trapped in a web of lies from which she saw no escape.

She decided to go down to the library, the only place in the house where Valeria rarely entered. because I consider it boring. I was sitting in a leather armchair trying to concentrate on the letters of a book when Alejandro entered. He didn’t have the usual hurry, nor his cell phone in his hand. His face showed a calmness that Isabel had not seen in weeks. Hi, Mom. I interrupt. No, millet. Of course not. Come in, sit down. He sat down at the coffee table in front of her.

a closeness that took her by surprise. “I wanted to ask you for forgiveness,” he said quietly. “I’ve been so wrapped up in work and party preparations that I have hardly spent time with you. I feel like a bad son.” Alexander’s words were a balm for Elizabeth’s wounded heart. Don’t say that, Alejandro. I understand that you are busy. I’m very proud of everything you’ve accomplished, but none of that matters if my mom isn’t happy, he replied with a sincerity that disarmed her.

Tell me something. Tell me about when we lived in the house in the Roma neighborhood. Do you remember the neighbor who had the dog that barked all night? Isabel smiled, a genuine memory surfacing her. Don Ramiro, of course I remember. And you were terribly afraid of that dog. They began to talk, to reminisce about old times. For a moment, the mansion, Valeria, and fear disappeared. It was once again the two of them, mother and son, connected by a bond of love and shared history.

Elizabeth felt a surge of hope. He was there listening to her, being her usual Alejandro. Perhaps this was the time. Maybe now, in this bubble of intimacy, he could hear her, he could believe her. As they talked, he came over to hold her hand in a gesture of affection. As she did so, the sleeve of Isabel’s blouse slid upwards, revealing the edge of the horrible bruise. Alexander’s smile faded instantly, replaced by an expression of alarm. “Mom, for God’s sake, what is this?” she exclaimed, carefully pulling her sleeve aside to see the magnitude of the blow.

“What happened to your arm? It’s horrible. The time had come. It was now or never.” Isabel’s heart began to beat with brutal force. His mouth went dry. She looked into her son’s worried eyes, gathered all the courage she had left in her body, and opened her mouth to tell the truth, to pronounce the name of her executioner. Son, I have something very important to tell you. What happened was Valeria. The words were about to come out, suspended in mid-air, burdened with the weight of weeks of suffering.

But at that very moment, the door of the library burst open with a force that made both of them startle. It was Valeria, her face ablaze with overflowing euphoria, waving an envelope in her hand. My love, my love, you won’t believe it. You have to see this. He screamed running towards them, completely ignoring the tension in the air. Alexander, bewildered, turned to her. What’s going on? Okay, what’s so much scandal? The country club, my life, the one that was on the waiting list for 2 years.

They just called me. There was a cancellation and they offered us the date we wanted so much for the wedding. On the first Saturday of June we got married in less than two months. It is a sign of destiny. The news fell on the room like a ray of sunshine. Alexander’s expression of concern changed into one of pure, incredulous joy. He jumped to his feet, forgetting his mother’s arm, his question, everything. Are you serious?

On the first Saturday of June? I can’t believe it. It is the perfect date. He picked up Valeria in his arms, spinning her in the air as she laughed out loud. The library, a haven of peace moments before, was filled with their cries of happiness. They kissed, a long, passionate kiss, sealing the promise of their future. Isabel watched them from the armchair, invisible, forgotten. The courage slipped from his body, replaced by a bitter and heavy resignation. The opportunity had vanished, the window had closed.

How could she? In the midst of so much happiness, to drop a bomb of poison and truth. How could he be the monster that took away the happiest moment of his life from his son? I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. After the celebration, Alejandro, still smiling from ear to ear, seemed suddenly to remember the unfinished business. What news. We have to start planning everything now. Hey, Mom, with so much emotion, you didn’t even tell me. What happened to your arm?

Are you ok? The question now sounded distant, a discordant note in a symphony of joy. Isabel pulled down the sleeve of her blouse, hiding the evidence again. The lie came out with an ease that frightened her. It was nothing, my son. Do not worry. Yesterday with so much hustle and bustle of boxes for the party, I tripped alone in the hallway and hit the wall. Pure clumsiness of mine. You know how I am. I’m really fine. Alexander, anxious to return to his fiancée’s arms and wedding plans, accepted the explanation without hesitation.

Well, but be more careful. Yes, don’t give me these scares. Now come, we’re going to open a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Valeria, who had watched the whole exchange with the eyes of a hawk, approached Isabel while Alejandro went to the cab. He gave her a hug that felt like that of a boa constrictor. Oh, mother-in-law, it almost scared me to death. He has to pay more attention to where he walks. He said aloud. And then, in a whisper that only Isabel could hear, he read in her ear.

Very good decision. I congratulate her on her intelligence. It seems that after all, he does learn. She stepped away smiling and went to join her fiancé, leaving Elizabeth alone with her lie, her pain, and the crushing certainty that she had missed her last chance. The lie about the bruise was a turning point. For Valeria it was the definitive proof that she was in total control. He had humiliated Isabel in public and in private, he had physically assaulted her and the old woman had not only not said anything, but had lied to protect her.

This submission emboldened Valeria in a terrifying way. He felt invincible, untouchable. Isabel was no longer a threat to be neutralized, but a mouse she could play with before giving her the coup de grace. A campaign of subtle and constant psychological torture began. He hid Isabel’s reading glasses and then accused her of being forgetful when she couldn’t find them. If Isabel was watching her soap opera, Valeria would enter and change the channel unintentionally.

He began to plant in Alexander’s mind the idea that his mother was losing her faculties. “My love, I’m very worried about your mommy,” he said with a frown. The other day he asked me three times about the same thing and he goes around leaving the keys anywhere. I think age is starting to weigh on him. One day, Valeria was on the terrace talking on the phone with her friend Brenda, the owner of the boutique. He complained bitterly. I just can’t stand it anymore, my friend.

It is like a ghost that crawls through the house, always with its victim face. It ruins the energy in my home. I swear I wish it would magically disappear sometimes. Brenda, from the other end of the line, let out a flippant laugh. Oh, okay, don’t be so dramatic. If she gets in your way so much, then put her in an asylum and that’s it. There are some very cute ones in Cuernavaca. The suggestion, made in a joking tone, went off like a light bulb in Valeria’s mind.

He hung up the phone, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across his face. It wasn’t a joke, it was the final solution. The idea took hold of her, a brilliant and perverse idea. If she managed to convince Alejandro that his mother needed special care, not only would he get rid of her forever, but he would do so as a self-sacrificing and worried daughter-in-law. That same afternoon he locked himself in Alejandro’s office and dedicated himself to investigating, but he was not looking for luxury residences, he was looking for the opposite.

He searched the internet for the cheapest nursing homes, the ones with the worst reviews, the furthest from the city. he found a perfect one, serene rest, a place in a remote town in the State of Mexico, whose photos showed a gray building with bars on the windows and a neglected garden. The reviews spoke of neglect and sadness. It was ideal. With his design skills, he downloaded the photos, retouched them to make them look less depressing, and created a fake digital brochure. He renamed it Villa Serenidad Spa and retreat.

He added archival footage of smiling old men playing chess and of kind nurses. She wrote a text full of words such as comprehensive well-being, personalized attention and a paradise for the elderly. The masterpiece of his deception was ready. He chose the perfect time to attend to his trap. He waited for Alejandro to come home one night, visibly exhausted from a problem at the office. As he loosened his tie, she approached with an expression of deep and grave concern.

My love, we need to talk about your mom. I am more anguished every day, her voice began a whisper of anguish. Now, what happened? Okay, he asked tiredly. Today I found her talking to herself in the garden and when I asked her who she was talking to, she told me that it was your dad. Alejandro. I think his mind is deteriorating faster than we think. The blow he took in the hallway, his lack of memory. I’m afraid that one day something serious will happen.

I’m afraid she’ll get hurt and we’re not here to help her. The lie about talking to his dead father was a low and effective blow. Alexander’s concern was aroused. That’s why I was investigating. Valeria continued showing him the screen of her tablet with the fake brochure. I found this place. It is called Villa Serenidad. It’s not an asylum, my love. It is a comprehensive wellness center, a luxury spa for seniors. Look at the facilities. They have 24-hour geriatric doctors, yoga classes, occupational therapy, beautiful gardens to walk around.

She would be attended by specialists, surrounded by people her age. It would be like a permanent vacation for her. Alejandro looked at the retouched photos and read the fraudulent text, and the idea began to seem reasonable to him. I do not know. Ok. I would feel like I was abandoning her. It’s my mom. To abandon her would be to leave her here alone all day, running the risk that she would fall down the stairs for real or leave the gas running, Valeria replied using emotional blackmail. To love her is to seek the best for her, even if it hurts us.

I only think about their safety and their happiness, but if you prefer to take a risk, well, it’s your decision. I just wanted you to have a clear conscience. The plot was devastating, tired, stressed and completely manipulated. Alejandro gave way. Okay, you’re right. Your heart is so noble that sometimes I am ashamed. This weekend we are going to visit the place without obligation. If it’s as good as you say, then we’ll talk to her. Isabel, who had prepared a linden tea for her son when she saw him arrive so overwhelmed, was approaching the office at that moment.

The door was ajar and he arrived just in time to hear Alejandro’s final sentence. We will talk to her. he saw the smile of triumph on Valeria’s face. He immediately understood what they were talking about. The plan that Valeria had shouted to him in the kitchen weeks ago was coming true. Her son, her own son, was planning to get rid of her. The silver tray slipped from his trembling hands. The porcelain cup and teapot shattered against the marble floor with a roar that broke the silence of the night.

The abrupt and violent sound made Alejandro and Valeria turn suddenly. On the threshold of the door stood Isabel with her eyes fixed on her son. There was no sadness or fear on his face, but an expression of absolute horror. The gaze of someone who has just seen the being he loves most in the world transform into a monster. The betrayal was complete, undeniable, and more painful than any physical blow. She was sentenced and her own son had just signed the order.

The rumble of porcelain shattering on the marble floor was like a gunshot in the night. Alejandro and Valeria turned to find Isabel on the threshold of the office, her face petrified by horror and betrayal. The silver tray lay at his feet. a mute witness to the conversation that had just sentenced her. For an instant, no one moved. Time seemed to freeze in that picture of silent confrontation. “Mom,” Alejandro exclaimed, running toward her, his initial anger replaced by genuine concern.

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?” Valeria was faster. She stood between mother and son, instantly adopting her role as a self-sacrificing caregiver. “Oh, my God, mother-in-law, what a scare she gave us,” she said, taking Isabel’s arm with a firmness that was more of a capture than a support. “She’s pale as paper.” I told you, Alejandro. No, it’s okay. She is exhausted, confused. Surely the tray slipped. Come on, mother-in-law, I’ll take her to her room to lie down. Isabel tried to get away, she tried to speak, but the words did not come out.

The socla had fallen silent. He could only look at his son, a silent plea in his eyes that he, in his blindness, was unable to decipher. Yes, take it, my love. Thank you, Alejandro said, already bending down to pick up the larger pieces of the broken cup. Lucia, come clean up this mess, please. As Valeria forcibly escorted her down the hall, Isabel saw Lucy approach with an expression of deep anguish. Their gazes crossed over Valeria’s shoulder.

In the eyes of the employee, Isabel saw her own terror reflected. Lucia knew something terrible was happening. Once in the room, Valeria pushed Isabel on the bed without any delicacy. What is cenita? I hiss closing the door. It always has to be the protagonist, right? He can’t just accept his fate and leave us alone. I swear that if Alejandro begins to doubt because of him, he will regret it. Isabel finally found her voice, although it was a broken whisper.

Why? Why so much hatred? I haven’t done anything to you. Valeria let out a laugh, an ugly and joyless sound. That it has not done anything to me? You exist. That is their sin. It is a constant reminder of the misery from which Alejandro comes. an anchor that ties him to a past that I want to erase. He is destined for greatness with me and you do not fit into that picture. Now go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a very long day. The door was locked from the outside.

Isabel heard the click of the bolt and panic flooded her. She was locked up. She was a prisoner. For a moment, despair overwhelmed her. She felt old, weak, and utterly defeated. I knew about the asylum plan and now I was stuck helpless. But then, as tears of helplessness ran down his cheeks, something changed. The image of her son’s face, so easily manipulated, so blindly in love, ignited a spark of fury within her. No, he wasn’t going to give up.

He wasn’t going to let that woman destroy her son and keep everything she had built. Fear was transformed into an ice-cold determination. He could not meet it with force, but perhaps he could do so with cunning. he had to find proof, proof so irrefutable that not even Alexander’s blind love could deny it. The next morning, Valeria, believing Isabel to be completely subdued, opened the door. I brought him breakfast. Eat, I don’t want you to faint on the trip.

He put down the tray and left, leaving the door open. It was his first mistake. Isabel knew that Valeria, smug by her victories, would become careless and that her favorite place to gloat was the pool area. After forcing herself to eat a little, Isabel left her room. He found an old gardener’s hat and pruning shears in a closet in the hallway. With her heart pounding, she went down the service staircase so as not to be seen and went out into the garden.

He went to the rose bushes that were conveniently near the pool terrace and began to prune the dry flowers crouching, using the hat and foliage as camouflage. It was a risky bet, but it was the only one I had. And luck, for the first time, was on his side. A few minutes later, Valeria appeared on the terrace dressed in a designer bikini and huge sunglasses. she lay down on a lounge chair and, as Isabel had predicted, she took out her cell phone and called her friend Brenda.

She turned on the speaker, too arrogant to worry that anyone might hear her. Friend, you don’t know last night’s drama, Valeria began, her voice dripping with amusement. The old woman caught us planning her exile to Villa Serenidad. He threw a tray, made a fuss, but Ale swallowed it all as always. She thinks her mommy is already choking. Brenda laughed on the other end of the line. Villa Serenidad. What a fancy name for the garbage dump that. He really believed it was complete.

I made her a fake brochure, my friend, with photos from somewhere else. It was divine. He thinks he’s sending her to a luxury spa. When you go to visit it and see the filthy possibility, I’m going to tell you that the administration deceived us with advertising, which is a scam. I’ll cry a little, I’ll be indignant and I’ll tell him that it’s too late, that the contracts are signed for one year and that getting the old woman out would cost us a million in penalties.

What do you think of my performance? Isabel, hidden among the roses, felt that she was short of breath. The coldness of the plan was monstrous. With hands that refused to sit still, he pulled his cell phone out of his apron pocket. He opened the voice recorder app and praying to All Saints, he pressed the record button. “You’re diabolical, okay,” Brenda said with a laugh. “And then what?” Then, paradise, my friend, once we get married, the second phase of the plan begins.

I will have Alejandro put me as the primary beneficiary in all his accounts and properties. I will use the excuse that it is to protect the family’s assets in case something happens to them. He is so noble and so hardworking and so menso. She believes anything I say wrapped in a discourse of love and protection. Sometimes I even feel a little sorry for him, but it goes away quickly when I see his card statement. Isabel had to bite her lip so as not to choke a pain when she heard how she referred to her son.

And with the old woman, what will you do?, Brenda asked. Once I’m well locked in that hole and I’m in control of the money, the visits will be spaced out. At first we will go every weekend so that Alejandro does not suspect. Then, once a month, I’ll tell you, we’ve got a lot of work, my love. An unexpected business trip came out, my life. Then the visits will be at Christmas and on his birthday. And finally, not even that, we will leave it there, let it rot on its own until it dies.

It will be my true wedding gift, a life without its shadow, without its mothballs, without its reproachful face. Total freedom. The conversation continued, but Isabel had already recorded enough. He had the poison, the proof, the entire conspiracy in a small audio file. With infinite care, he stopped the recording and put the phone away. Just at that moment, Valeria finished the call, got up from the cot and stretched out like a satisfied cat. His gaze swept across the garden.

For a second he stopped at the rose bushes. Who’s there? He shouted his voice suddenly sharply. Isabel remained motionless. His heart stopped. He felt that everything was over, but from behind some nearby bushes appeared one of the gardeners, an older man named Ramiro. Sorry, miss, I was just weeding. With his permission, Valeria looked at him suspiciously for a long moment, but finally dismissed him with a gesture of annoyance. Well, do it in silence, because the noise bothers me.

He turned and went into the house. Isabel waited for the gardener to walk away, and, feeling her legs barely support her, slipped back into the house through the service door. He went up to his room and locked himself in. He took out the phone and put on his headphones. Press Play. Valeria’s voice, clear and cruel, filled his ears, detailing every step of his diabolical plan. He had it. He had the bomb that could destroy Valeria.

Now he just had to find the time and the courage to detonate it. The days that followed the recording were a torture of waiting and tension. The engagement party was on Saturday, and the mansion was a chaos of preparations. Isabel clutched her phone as if it were a sacred amulet, waiting for the perfect moment to show the recording to Alejandro. But that moment never came. Her son lived in a whirlwind of meetings, calls, and last-minute decisions.

When he was at home, Valeria did not leave him for a second, hanging on his arm, interrupting any attempt at private conversation. Isabel felt like a sniper, waiting for a clean shot that never came. Meanwhile, Valeria, ignorant of the weapon Isabel possessed, intensified her psychological warfare. He knew that time was running out and he needed to consolidate the image of Isabel as a senile old woman before sending her to the asylum. He would move her personal things, the book she was reading, her shawl, and then help her find them in absurd places.

Mother-in-law, for God’s sake, what are your glasses doing in the sugar bowl? He said with false surprise in front of Alejandro. It really worries me more every day. Isabel had to endure the humiliation, knowing that protesting would only reinforce Valeria’s narrative. The cruelty of her future daughter-in-law reached a new level when Elizabeth received a call of comfort. One of her lifelong comadres. Valeria, who was nearby, snatched the phone from his hand. Hello. Ah, Consuelo. How is he?

This is Valeria, Alejandro’s fiancée. Yes, here is her comadre, but the truth is that right now she is not very lucid. Poor thing, she’s saying strange things. No, no, don’t worry, we’re taking great care of her. I give him his message. Go ahead, make it well. He hung up the phone, cutting Isabel’s last link with her outside world. We don’t want her to go around spreading her craziness with her friends, do we?, she said, returning the phone with a venomous smile. The confirmation of her worst fears came through Lucia.

The loyal employee looked for her in the library, her face pale with fear. “Ma’am, I have to warn you about something,” he whispered, looking out the door. I heard Miss Valeria talking to the driver. He gave him very clear instructions. He asked him to have the car ready tomorrow. Friday at 9 a.m. sharp, he told him that it would be for a long trip out of town and specified that he should come alone without the other escort. He told him that they were going to move a very delicate and fragile package.

Isabel and Lucia looked at each other. No further explanation was needed. The delicate package was her. The one-way trip was scheduled for the next morning. He had less than 24 hours left. That night the tension in the house was almost unbreathable. Alejandro, exhausted, went to sleep early. Isabel knew that tonight was her last chance. She waited for the lights to go out and with the phone in her hand she went to her son’s room. But when they reached the hallway, the door to the guest room opened and Valeria walked out.

Did you miss anything, mother-in-law?, she asked, blocking her way. I was going to say goodnight to my son. Your child is sleeping. You had a very heavy day and you should go to sleep too. Tomorrow he has a very important trip. The final confrontation had arrived. Valeria followed her to her room. Isabel entered and when she turned around she saw that Valeria was holding a suitcase. It was an old suitcase made of cheap plastic and with a broken closure. He threw it on Elizabeth’s bed with a gesture of contempt.

“It’s time to pack,” his voice announced devoid of all emotion. Isabel tried to buy time by feigning a confusion she did not feel. “Packing. What is it for? Alejandro didn’t say anything to me.” Valeria smiled. a smile of superiority and sadism. Of course he didn’t say anything. He’s too good. He doesn’t have the stomach for these things. But I do. Tomorrow morning, the day before my engagement party, you will be leaving for your wonderful new home.

There was serenity, he paused, savoring the moment. Alejandro and I visited him last weekend. He thought it was a bit rustic. He had his doubts, but I explained to him that beauty is in simplicity. I reminded her that you come from a humble background and that so much luxury here overwhelms you. I convinced him that in that quiet and modest place you would feel at home. You will be fascinated. He opened the cheap suitcase on the bed.

Here you go. I suggest you start putting away your old rags. Don’t bother taking the expensive clothes my fiancé bought you. You won’t need it. In fact, I have been told that in his new home he will be given a very practical and comfortable uniform. All guests dress the same. To promote equality. You know? The cruelty was in every detail, designed to strip her of her identity, of her dignity. At that moment, the door opened and Alejandro came in yawning.

What’s all this noise? Mom, why do you have a suitcase? Valeria turned instantly, her face transforming into a mask of affection. My love, I was just giving your mom this new, lighter suitcase for her trip to the spa. Yours is very heavy, isn’t it, mother-in-law? who is already excited for her vacation. Alejandro, half asleep, saw the suitcase and felt a pang of guilt, but he quickly suppressed it. Convinced by Valeria’s lies that it was for his mother’s good.

He approached Isabel and hugged her. You’re going to love it, Mom. Really, you’re going to rest, you’re going to make friends, we’ll call you every day. It’s for your good. The hug felt like that of an executioner. Her son was handing her over with a kiss and a smile. Well, let’s all sleep, Alejandro said and left. Once the door closed, Valeria’s smile disappeared. The car will come for you at 9 o’clock in the morning,” he said, his voice returning to an ice floe.

I personally arranged for Alejandro to have a very important meeting at 8 a.m. on the other side of town, so he won’t be here for sentimental goodbyes and whining. Be a good girl, Isabel. Don’t make a fuss, cooperate. Or I swear to you by the most sacred that the journey and welcome to your new home will be much, much more unpleasant than you can imagine. he left, leaving Isabel alone in her room with the cheap suitcase on the bed, a coffin for the life she had known.

The phone with the recording was heavy in his pocket. She had a bomb, but she was locked in a room about to be sent into exile and time was running out every second. The night was an endless vigil. Isabel did not sleep for a single minute. He sat in the armchair by the window, watching the moon roll across the sky, feeling the ticking of the clock in the living room like hammer blows on his head. He held his cell phone in his hand, the cold metal, a contrast to the fire of rage and fear that burned inside him.

He went over his options over and over again. Screaming, breaking the door. They would make her look crazy, confirming all of Valeria’s lies. To wake up Alejandro. Valeria would be by his side in a second, denying everything, saying that the recording was a hoax, a forgery made by a jealous and senile old woman. And Alexander, in his state of infatuation, would probably believe him. No, a panic attack would not do him any good. I needed a plan. He looked at the wooden box with its treasures that lay on the dressing table.

He got up and opened it. She looked at the photo of her husband, the drawing of her son, the worsted slipper. They were not just memories, they were testimonies of his strength. She had raised a son alone in a difficult world. He had faced poverty, loneliness, and loss. He had worked himself to exhaustion. She had sacrificed her own dreams for those of her son. She was not a weak victim, she was a survivor, she was a mother. And a mother, when her calf is in danger, becomes a lioness.

An icy calm came over her, displacing fear. Desperation became a strategy. I knew what I had to do. At 8 o’clock in the morning, just as Lucia had warned him, he heard the soft knock on the door. Madam, it’s 8 o’clock. The driver informed me that the car is already waiting downstairs. Lucia’s voice was full of sorrow and helplessness. Isabel opened the door. She was fully dressed, not in travel clothes, but in her blue Sunday dress, the one she liked best, a simple but dignified dress.

Her hair was perfectly combed. The cheap suitcase was on the floor next to the door, empty and open. Thank you, Lucia. Tell the driver to please wait a few minutes. It didn’t take long for him to come down, Isabel said. His voice was so calm and firm that it surprised the employee. She looked confused, but relieved by the woman’s apparent calm. Isabel waited for Lucia’s footsteps to move away. He knew that Valeria would be watching. He had to make his move.

He left his room, not in the direction of the main staircase, but towards Alejandro’s office. The phone with the recording ready to be played was in his hand. It was his only chance. If he managed to get into the office, he could connect the phone to the sound system and make the whole house listen. But Valeria was more astute. As if he had read his mind, he appeared at the end of the corridor blocking his way. Where do you think you are going in such a hurry?

He asked, crossing his arms. His face was a mask of impatience. The exit is on the other side and his time is up. “I need to talk to my son,” Isabel said, trying to get through. His son is on a very important meeting saving his company’s skin thanks to a small crisis that I took it upon myself to discover last night. She won’t be back until noon, so there’s no one to save her. Let’s go. The confrontation was inevitable. At 9 o’clock, Valeria went up to Isabel’s room, her patience completely exhausted.

The wait is over. The driver is calling me. What the hell are you waiting for? He screamed when he entered, saw Isabel sitting on the bed quietly and saw the empty suitcase. A dark fury clouded his features. It has not packed. He’s making fun of me. Are you an idiot or what? Isabel stood up slowly. His 160 in height seemed to grow. Its fragility replaced by a dignity of steel. He looked Valeria straight in the eye without blinking. I’m not going anywhere, Valeria.

The silence that followed that sentence was dense, charged with electricity. Valeria looked at her incredulously, as if she couldn’t process what she had just heard. What? What did you say? He stuttered for the first time, losing his composure. “I said I’m not leaving,” Isabel repeated. His voice was low, but it resonated with unwavering authority. This is the house that my son built by the sweat of his brow. This is the house where this weekend the party will be held to announce their happiness.

And I, who am his mother, the one who brought him into the world and raised him to be the man he is, am going to be here to see him. I’m not leaving. Valeria burst into laughter, a high-pitched and unpleasant sound. But look at nothing else. The little mouse pulled out its claws. You are not in a position to decide absolutely anything. You are a senile old woman, a burden that we are going to place for your own good and with the blessing of your beloved son.

So move her old bones right now or I swear I’m going to drag her out of here. He rushed at Isabel to take her arm, but the old woman did not move. He stood firm as an oak tree. You’re not going to touch me, Isabel said. And there was such conviction in her voice that Valeria stopped in her tracks. And you’re not going to get me out of here because your game is over. I’m not afraid of you anymore. It was that calm, that total absence of fear, that unhinged Valeria.

I was used to Elizabeth’s tears, to her submission, to her terror. This new Isabel, strong, defiant, unbreakable, was an enemy who did not know how to fight. Power had changed hands. The victim refused to continue being a victim. Valeria looked at her with her face contorted by helpless fury. He tried one last tactic. Please, Elizabeth, don’t make things more difficult. Be reasonable, it’s in everyone’s best interest. Isabel did not answer. Ah, I see. Valeria mocked.

You think if you stay you’re going to ruin my party, right? Do you think you can beat me? How pathetic you are. But his insults bounced against Isabella’s wall of serenity. Valeria realized that her plan, so simple and so perfect, had just collided with an iron will. The lioness had awakened and was defending her territory. And a cornered lioness is the most dangerous animal in the world. The atmosphere in the room was unbreathable. Isabel’s defiant calm was like gasoline on the fire of Valeria’s fury.

The fact that his threats and insults had no effect was driving her crazy. I had lost control of the situation and that was something I couldn’t tolerate. Patience is over, he shouted, his voice breaking with rage. I told him I was going to drag it out and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. he lunged forward and grabbed Isabel’s arm with the force of a steel claw. But the woman he was holding was no longer the frail, scary old woman of the previous days.

With a strength born of desperation and adrenaline, Isabel broke free with a sudden movement. “I told you not to lay a hand on me,” her voice exclaimed for the first time, rising with an indignation that had been repressed for weeks. The struggle began. It was an unequal struggle. Valeria was younger, taller, stronger. pushed Isabel against the dressing table. The blow was hard and the small wooden box with Isabel’s treasures fell to the ground.

The contents were scattered on the carpet, Alejandro’s photo, the drawing of the sun, her husband’s watch. Seeing their most sacred objects trampled on and scattered on the ground was the ultimate desecration. A cry of anguish and rage escaped from Isabel’s throat. My stuff, animal. That distraction was all Valeria needed. Taking advantage of Isabel’s bending over to try to collect her memories, he grabbed her from behind and began to drag her out of the room. Isabel resisted, clinging to the door frame, her nails scratching the wood.

Let go of me. You are crazy. The crazy one is you, a crazy old girl who doesn’t understand where your place is. Valeria growled, pulling her with all her might. He managed to get her out into the hallway. Lucia, who was cleaning downstairs, heard the screams and ran upstairs. She was paralyzed when she saw the scene, Valeria dragging the force to Doña Isabel, who was struggling to free herself. Their eyes met. Isabel’s was a plea for help. Valeria’s, a death threat.

Lucia, terrified, took a step back, putting her hands to her mouth. I couldn’t do anything. Valeria did not stop. He dragged Isabel down the corridor and then down the great marble staircase. Isabel stumbled, her knees hitting the hard steps. They finally arrived in the living room. With one last violent push, Valeria threw Isabel onto one of the very expensive silk sofas. Isabel fell badly, hitting her head against a cushion and gasping for breath.

Valeria stood in front of her panting, her hair tousled and her face flushed with effort and anger. The society lady’s mask had not only fallen off, it had turned to dust. What remained was the real Valeria, a being consumed by hatred. And then he began to speak. It was a poisonous monologue, a torrent of bile that he had been accumulating for months. Who the hell do you think you are? His voice was a shriek that bounced off the high walls of the room.

An old woman leaning against her. A starving woman who lives on the charity and pity of my fiancé. A woman who is nothing and nobody and dares to challenge me. In my own house he began pacing back and forth in front of the couch like a caged tigress. I gave him everything. I took her out of the filthy hut in which she lived and brought her to a palace. Eat the food I choose. Sleep under the roof that I decorated.

Breathe the air that I pay for. I gave her the opportunity to have a dignified old age, surrounded by luxuries that not even in her wildest dreams would she have imagined. And that’s how he pays me. With his martyr’s face, with his sighs, trying to turn my son against me, trying to ruin my life, my wedding, my happiness. He stopped and pointed an accusing finger at her. You are a parasite. Do you understand? A parasite, a leech that stuck to her son and refuses to let go.

You can’t stand to see that he loves me, that I am your present and your future, while you are just an annoying memory of a past that we all want to forget. But it’s over. As of today, I am the owner of this house, of its money and of its life. And you, you are nothing, you are dust, you are a leftover. In their outburst of fury, their crazed eyes searched for something to destroy and found it. On the mantelpiece, in a carved silver frame, was Alejandro’s favorite photograph, the one of his elementary school graduation, the same one that Isabel treasured in her box.

Valeria must have taken it from Isabel’s room at some point. With a cry of rage, he snatched it off the shelf. Look, look at what I think of your stupid memories and your miserable past. This is what I think of her mother’s love. And with all the strength of his body he threw the picture frame against the marble hearth of the fireplace. The impact was brutal. The crystal shattered, scattering across the floor in a thousand shiny shards.

The silver frame was dented and twisted. No. Isabel’s cry was a visceral lament, a sound torn from the depths of her soul. It was not just a photo, it was the symbol of his sacrifice, the face of his son’s innocence, the only treasure he had left from a life of struggle. Not thinking about the danger, she slid off the couch and began crawling across the carpet toward the shards of glass, desperately trying to rescue her son’s broken image.

Tears blinded his eyes and his hands trembled as he tried to piece together the torn photograph. Valeria stood on it, her chest rising and falling in agitation, a goddess of destruction contemplating her work. On his face there was no regret, only the wild pleasure of victory. The mask of perfection had not only been shattered, it had been pulverized, and the monster that dwelt below wallowed in the devastation it had caused.

He believed that he had finally broken Isabel completely. The room fell silent, broken only by the heart-wrenching pits of a mother kneeling over the remains of her heart. The mansion’s hall had been transformed into a battlefield. The air was tainted by hatred and tension. Isabel, kneeling between the broken glass of her most precious memory, felt each piece of glass like a stab in her own heart. The soybeans shook his body, but they were not the soybeans of defeat, they were of a deep and primordial rage.

Valeria looked down on her from above with her chest fluttering, savoring her apparent victory. He thought he had destroyed it, but he underestimated the strength of a wounded mother in the most sacred. What’s the matter, mother-in-law? His little toy broke. Valeria sneered, her voice a poisonous sound. You should thank me. I’m doing him a favor by erasing those memories of poverty. In his new life in Villa Serenidad, he will have no room for cheap sentimentality. Slowly, with a dignity that seemed to be born from the ruins of her grief, Elizabeth stood up.

She shook off the small shards of glass in her dress, ignoring the fine cuts that had been made on her hands. He raised his face, his eyes, reddened by weeping, no longer showed fear, but a cold, hard flame. You can break a picture frame, Valeria. You can throw away my coffee, you can hide my things, you can humiliate me, he said. His voice was low, but he cut through the air like a knife. But there is something that you will never be able to break and that is the love that my son feels for me.

That’s not made of glass, it’s made of something you’ll never understand. And that love, sooner or later, will open his eyes. Isabel’s calmness, her unexpected and defiant declaration of faith, was the spark that caused the final explosion in Valeria. That this woman, whom she thought crushed and defeated, dared to talk to her about love, that she dared to insinuate that she, Valeria, could lose, was an intolerable insult. “Shut up, you stupid old woman,” she roared, her face contorting into a mask of fury.

Alejandro’s love is mine, I earned it. And you are nothing but a nuisance, an old piece of furniture that gets in the way of my new house. In her rage, Valeria began to act irrationally. He saw a small wooden bench, a stool that Isabel sometimes used to rest her feet. he grabbed it and threw it against a wall where it hit itself with a thud. That’s how I get rid of old furniture, he shouted beside himself.

Then his crazed gaze fell on Isabel. A perverse and cruel idea crossed his mind. Her anger transformed into a sinister calm, far more terrifying than her screams. You know what? He’s right. I’m getting too upset. I’m tired of fighting,” said his voice suddenly honeyed and fake. “Let’s talk like civilized people, please sit down.” He pointed to another identical stool that was near the fireplace. It was a small, unstable piece, not designed for prolonged use. It was an order, not an invitation.

Isabel looked at her suspiciously, but the fatigue of the physical and emotional struggle was overcoming her. Perhaps if he sat down, if he appeared calm, the storm would pass. With a sore body, he walked slowly and sat down on the small bench. Valeria stood in front of her, staring down at her from above, a predator savoring her power over prey. See, that’s how I like it. That he understands his place. What does it feel like when I tell you that you feel? Let him speak when I give him permission.

Now you understand, right? You are not the Queen Mother. You are a visitor, one more object in this house that I will decorate to my liking. And honestly, mother-in-law, you don’t match my furniture. It’s a nuisance that I’m going to throw away very soon. During the previous struggle, Isabel’s cell phone, the one containing the recording, had partially come out of her apron pocket, leaving it dangerously visible. Neither of them had noticed.

Valeria took a step back as if admiring the scene. Isabel sitting, submissive, she standing, victorious, but it was not enough. He needed a final act, a gesture of domination so absolute and cruel that it would mark his victory forever. Do you know what bothers me most about you? continued his voice lowering to a poison-laden whisper. Her air of moral superiority, that face of a holy and self-sacrificing mother makes me nauseous. Do you think that because she gave birth to him you have any rights over him?

But children are not the property of mothers, they are trophies that the most intelligent women win. And I, dear Elizabeth, am much more intelligent than you. And then, in an act of pure and gratuitous evil, an act that would forever define the kind of monster she was, Valeria lifted her foot in a stiletto shoe and with a quick and accurate movement, kicked with all her strength one of the legs of the fragile stool where Isabel was sitting.

It all happened in a split second. The sound of the wood creaking, Isabel’s gasp of surprise, the feeling of emptiness as she loses support. The stool tipped over and she fell sideways with all her weight on the hard, cold marble floor. The blow was brutal. He felt a sharp, reaping pain in his hip and side, an impact that stole his breath and clouded his vision. She lay there on the floor, unable to move.

The world was reduced to a swirl of pain and twinkling lights. He saw, as if through a tunnel, Valeria’s expensive shoes inches from her face. He heard in the distance the satisfied and cruel laughter of his executioner. Every fiber of his being screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth. She was physically and spiritually broken. He had fought, he had resisted, but in the end he had lost. Evil had won. He felt the tears begin to roll down his hundreds, mixing with the dust on the ground.

He gathered the last bit of air left in his lungs, the last drop of will, and exhaled it in a whisper. A plea addressed not to Valeria, but to the universe, to God, to nothingness. A final surrender. Please, stop. The chapter ended there, in that sentence, in the image of a defeated mother and in the silence that followed her last plea. The silence that followed Elizabeth’s plea was dense, heavy. Valeria enjoyed it.

He tasted it like an expensive wine. I looked at the woman lying on the ground, a mass of pain and defeat, and I felt a surge of intoxicating power. He had won, he had crushed her, he had silenced her forever. She was so absorbed in her triumph that she did not hear the almost imperceptible sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door. He did not hear the soft click of the bolt when it opened. He didn’t hear the silent footsteps on the carpet in the lobby. Alejandro had had a premonition.

The morning meeting had been canceled at the last minute, and instead of feeling relieved, he felt a strange twinge of unease, a sense that something wasn’t right at home. he decided to return perhaps to take his mother and Valeria to lunch to smooth out the rough edges before the big party. He stopped by a flower shop and bought a huge bouquet of Valeria’s favorite orchids, a gesture of peace and love. He entered the house with a smile on his face, ready to announce the good news, but the smile froze on his lips as he reached the threshold of the living room.

The scene that greeted him was one of devastation. The overturned stool, the broken glass scattered in front of the fireplace and in the center of everything, his fiancée Valeria standing with an expression of wild triumph on her face and at her feet lying on the floor like a wounded animal. His mother froze, his brain unable to process the incongruity of the image. It was then that he heard the whisper, a thread of voice so faint that it was almost blown away by the wind, but to him it sounded like thunder.

Please, stop. The bouquet of orchids slipped from his limp hand. The purple and white flowers fell to the ground with a dull, soft noise, spreading on the carpet. The sound, though slight, was enough for Valeria to finally realize that they were not alone. He turned slowly. The expression on his face went from triumph to disbelief and from there to absolute panic, in a fraction of a second it paled until it acquired a waxy tone.

“My love,” his high-pitched, shrill voice exclaimed. Alejandro, it’s good that you arrived. You have no idea what just happened. He began to speak at full speed, stumbling over the words. weaving an increasingly desperate and convoluted web of lies. Your mom, your mom went crazy, completely crazy. He started screaming that I was the one who wanted to rob you. He grabbed your photograph, your treasure, smashed it into the fireplace with his bare hands. I tried to calm her down, to reason with her, but she became like a wild beast.

She attacked me, scratched me, and in the struggle she tripped over the stool by herself and fell. I swear to you, my love, he’s losing his mind. I’ve been telling you. You need professional help urgently. But Alejandro did not listen to her. He didn’t even look at her. He passed her as if she were a statue, his eyes fixed on the motionless figure of his mother. Her movements were slow, deliberate, charged with a fury so cold and so deep that it was far more terrifying than any scream.

He knelt beside Isabel. Mom, her voice was just a murmur. Mom, are you okay? Can you hear me? With infinite delicacy, he put an arm under her shoulders to help her up. Isabel groaned in pain, clinging to him. As he moved it, something fell from his apron pocket and lay on the floor next to them. It was on his cell phone. The screen was slightly crashed from the drop, but it was on, showing the voice recorder interface. Alejandro saw it.

His gaze shifted from the phone to Valeria’s terrified face and then back to the phone. The pieces of the puzzle began to fit into his mind with a painful and terrible clarity. He picked it up. His thumb moved with a sinister calm on the screen. He pressed Play and then the room was filled with Valeria’s voice. The clear, mocking, cruel voice that Isabel had recorded by the pool. The asylum, my friend, is a garbage dump. I called it Villa Serenidad.

What a laugh. Alejandro swallowed the story that it is a spa. Valeria tried to say something, she stammered a no. That’s it, but the voice in the recording silenced her. He is so noble and so hardworking and so menso. He believes all my lies. Sometimes I even feel sorry for him, but it goes away quickly when I see his card statement. Every word was a hammer blow in Alejandro’s heart. The betrayal was absolute, the manipulation was grotesque.

When the old woman is locked up and I’m in control, we’ll visit her less and less until she dies alone in that hole. It will be my wedding gift. Alejandro stopped the recording. The silence that remained was heavier than a tombstone. He helped his mother to her feet by holding her firmly. Elizabeth leaned on him, her refuge, her salvation. Then Alejandro turned to face Valeria. His face was an impassive mask, but his eyes burned with an icy fire.

There was no pain, there was no sadness. Just infinite contempt. Valeria fell apart. He fell to his knees, crawling toward him, crocodile tears streaming down his face. No, my love, please forgive me. I love you. I did it for us, for our future. That recording is edited, it’s taken out of context. I swear. Alejandro looked at her as if he were looking at an insect. When he finally spoke, his voice was so calm, so devoid of emotion, that every word was a death sentence.

You don’t have to explain anything, Valeria. I’ve heard it all and seen it all. He took out his own cell phone with precise and economical movements. He logged into his bank application. This credit card said showing you the screen. Cancelled. The extension of my checking account. Cancelled. Access to the house. Cancelled. Valeria looked at him with her mouth open in horror, while he dismantled her life of luxury in a matter of seconds. Take your stuff. You have 10 minutes to disappear from my house and my life.

Call one of your friends or a taxi. The chaer won’t even take you to the corner. The guards at the entrance will make sure that you don’t try to take anything that isn’t yours. And if you dare to approach me or my mother again, I will personally see to it that you never find a job again in this city or any other. I was clear enough. The fury promised in the title wasn’t an explosion, it was an implosion.

A silent and devastating force that annihilated Valeria’s world without raising her voice. She trembling, knowing that she had lost everything, she could only nod drowned in her own lies. Valeria’s world collapsed in slow motion. The 10 minutes Alejandro gave her were the most humiliating countdown of her life. She got up from the ground with limp legs and climbed the stairs under the implacable gaze of Alejandro, who did not move from his place, protectively holding his mother.

Every step was torture. He knew that Lucia and the rest of the domestic servants were hiding, listening, witnessing his fall. In what had been his room, now a foreign territory. He acted with the desperation of a thief. He opened the drawers, ripping off the silk clothes and designer dresses, carelessly tossing it into a branded suitcase. His hands moved toward the jewelry box, a treasure chest Alexander had given him. She opened her fingers looking for the diamond necklace, the emerald earrings, the gold watches, but a voice from the door stopped her in her tracks.

None of that belongs to you, Valeria. Alexander was standing in the doorway, his face an ice mask. Those jewels were gifts. They’re mine,” she squealed, clinging to the jeweler. “They were gifts for a woman I loved. That woman never existed. It was a lie. Gifts, therefore, are annulled.” “Drop that.” His tone did not admit of discussion. With a laugh of rage, Valeria let go of the jewelry box as if burning. She grabbed her bag, her most expensive shoes and packed everything she could into her suitcase.

It was a pathetic scene. The queen, fleeing her palace with the few trinkets she could carry, took out her cell phone to call her friend Brenda. Brenda, you have to come and pick me up at Alejandro’s house right now. He whispered, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. Brenda’s voice on the other end sounded cold, distant. Something happened. Okay, I’m in the middle of a facial. He kicked me out. Alejandro kicked me out of the house. You have to come for me.

There was a pause. Oh, what a shame, my friend. But you know what? Right now my car is in the workshop and I have a terrible headache. I can’t drive. Call yourself an Uber. Good luck with that. Click. Brenda had hung up on him. The rats were the first to leave the sinking ship. Humiliated, defeated, she called a taxi service. With the suitcase in one hand and pride in pieces. He went down the grand staircase for the last time. As he passed through the room, he saw Lucia, who was now in sight, carefully cleaning the remains of broken picture frames, a task that seemed symbolic.

Lucia did not look at her with triumph, but with an icy indifference that was much worse. Two security guards Alejandro had called were waiting for her at the door. They escorted her to the taxi waiting outside, making sure she didn’t swerve. When the door of the modest sedan closed, forever separating her from the life of luxury she had longed for, Valeria finally broke down and began to cry, not out of regret, but out of pure, selfish rage for all she had lost.

Inside the house, once the sound of the car faded, a deep, heavy silence settled in the living room. It was a different silence than before. It was not tense. It was a silence of emptiness that remains after the storm has destroyed everything. Alejandro was still standing looking at the door through which Valeria had disappeared. His face, once hard and furious, began to crumble. The adrenaline of confrontation dissipated, exposing the raw pain of betrayal and overwhelming guilt.

He looked at his mother. who watched him with infinite sadness. She looked at his hurt hands, the bruise on his arm that had ignored her, the tiredness in his eyes that he hadn’t wanted to see. He looked at the remains of his photograph on the ground and the dam of his self-control finally burst. He did not kneel, he collapsed. His knees gave way and he fell to the ground in front of his mother and began to soothe. They were not silent tears, they were heartbreaking, guttural soybeans, which came from the depths of a broken soul.

He rested his head on his mother’s knee, like a small child seeking comfort after a nightmare. “Forgive me,” he managed to say between gasps. Forgive me, Mom, please forgive me. I was blind, I was deaf, I was an imbecile. You were asking me for help, screaming, and I didn’t listen to you. I left you alone with that monster. I defended her, I put her above you. I failed you, Mom. I failed you in everything. I’m the worst son in the world. Elizabeth, despite her own physical and emotional pain, felt her heart expand with immense love.

Her son’s pain was a thousand times worse than hers. With trembling hands, he stroked her hair, the back of her neck, as she did when he was a child and had a fever. Shh my child is over,” she whispered the tears now running down her own cheeks. “No, my son, don’t say that. You weren’t an imbecile. You were in love and love sometimes makes us all blind and deaf. It’s not your fault. The fault lies with evil, not with love.

It’s over. The nightmare is over. We are together now and that, my Alejandro, is the only thing that matters. His forgiveness was instantaneous, absolute, and unconditional. There was no reproach, there was no resentment, only the pure love of a mother recovering her child. They stayed like this for a long time, hugging each other in the midst of the rubble of their lives, crying together, healing together. Lucia approached them with silent steps. In his hands he carried not only a glass of water, but also a small first-aid kit and a cup of hot deila tea.

He knelt beside them. “Ma’am, let me heal those hands for you,” he said quietly as he began to gently wipe Isabel’s scratches. Then she offered tea to Alejandro. To the fright, young man. Alejandro looked up, his eyes red and swollen. Thank you, Lucia, and forgive me too for not having seen anything. There is nothing to forgive, young Alexander, Lucia replied. And for the first time since the story had begun, a genuine, broad smile lit up his face.

The nightmare is over for everyone. When Lucia left, Alejandro took his mother’s hands, which the employee had just bandaged. He kissed them one by one. I swear to you by the memory of my father, Mom. I swear to you here and now. Never again, never again will I doubt you. I will never again let anyone, absolutely no one, hurt you again. I will never again put any person or thing above you. From today on, you are my queen, my priority, my everything and I will spend the rest of my life trying to compensate you for every tear you shed in this house.

I swear to you, the embrace they gave each other then was a rebirth, the embrace of truth that sealed the end of the lie and the beginning of a new life. A year later, the mansion was unrecognizable, not in its structure, but in its soul. The walls, which had previously witnessed cruel whispers and silent tears, now echoed with the sound of laughter and animated conversations. The air, once laden with Valeria’s expensive perfume and the strain of fear, now smelled of freshly baked bread, cinnamon, and fresh flowers from the garden.

On the walls hung no longer cold paintings of abstract art, but framed photographs of happy moments. Alejandro and Isabel on a picnic, Lucia and her family Christmas dinner and many photos of a young woman with a sweet smile and bright eyes who seemed to have brought light back to that house. In the kitchen, which had been the scene of the first humiliations, a scene of pure love was now unfolding. Doña Isabel, with a flowered apron and her hands covered with flour, patiently taught that same young Sofia the secret to kneading village bread that her grandmother taught her.

Sofia, a dedicated pediatrician whom Alejandro had rediscovered through Azares del destino, listened with an attention and affection that went beyond simple courtesy. They laughed together when Sofia stuck the dough on her fingers and shared confidences while waiting for the yeast to work its magic. Within a few months, Sofia had become not a daughter-in-law, but the daughter Elizabeth never had. Alejandro arrived home earlier than usual. I no longer had that look beset by stress and pressure.

His step was light, his smile easy. He walked into the kitchen and stopped at the doorway, just watching the scene. Seeing the two women he loved, united creating something together in the heart of their home. It filled his chest with such deep peace and gratitude that he felt a lump in his throat. This was the real wealth. This was the success that really mattered. “It smells like glory in here,” she finally said, causing them both to turn to smile at her.

He approached his mother and kissed her on the forehead. In her hand she had no jewelry or ostentatious gifts, but a small bouquet of wild daisies that she had cut from the garden for the most beautiful flower of all, she told him. Then he approached Sofia and gave her a kiss full of love and complicity, placing a hand on her belly that already showed an incipient and beautiful curve. How have my two favorite chefs behaved?

Your future daughter says she’s had enough of the smell of yeast and prefers a pozole. Sofia joked wiping the flour on her apron. Isabel looked at them with a heart overflowing with a happiness that almost did not fit in her body. Alejandro took his mother’s hand, a hand now free of wounds, a hand that symbolized resilience and forgiveness. “Mom, come. There’s something I want you to feel.” He gently guided her to Sofia. With infinite tenderness he took his mother’s hand and placed it on his wife’s womb.

Isabel looked at her confused for a moment and then she felt it. A small movement, a soft but unmistakable kick, a pulsation of new life responding to his touch. Her eyes widened and she looked up at her son, seeking confirmation, her breath bated and her heart stopped in an eternal instant. Alejandro, his voice breaking with emotion, whispered the words that would change everything. She’s going to be a grandmother, mom. We’re having a baby.

The word grandmother was the key that opened the floodgates of her soul. Tears began to flow from his eyes, but they were not the bitter tears of the suffering and humiliation he had shed in that very house. They were sweet, clean tears, tears of a joy so overwhelming and so pure that she felt like they were redeeming her from all the pain she had gone through. Soy, a cry of absolute happiness, as he embraced his son and Sofia, forming a circle of love, a knot of three generations united by hope and the future.

Meanwhile, many miles away, in the dirty, flickering light of a roadside cafeteria, Valeria’s life was a cacophony of dirty dishes and shouted orders. With his uniform stained with grease and his hair gathered in a graceless net, he cleaned a table with mechanical and exhausted movements. On a small television hung in a corner, the local news was playing. Suddenly a report appeared about the inauguration of a new paediatric wing in the public hospital, a wing equipped with the latest technology.

The donation, the reporter announced, had been made by businessman Alejandro Montes and his fiancée, Dr. Sofía Serrano. Alejandro, Sofia and Doña Isabel were radiant and elegant cutting the inaugural ribbon. They looked happy, united, a solid and respected family. Valeria’s face contracted into a mask of envy and pure hatred. An impatient customer banged on the table. Hey, waitress, my coffee went cold. Half an hour ago I asked for it. The man’s voice brought her back to her miserable reality.

He turned, humiliation burning his face. Right away. Lord, he muttered as he picked up the cup with trembling hands. As she did so, the cup slipped and fell to the floor, shattering, just as she had done with Elizabeth’s heart. His boss came out of the kitchen yelling at him, telling him that he would deduct it from his miserable salary. Back at the mansion, the celebration continued. After dinner, Alejandro took his mother to the terrace to see the stars. Do you remember, Mom?, she said quietly.

When I was a child and I was afraid of the dark, you told me that each star was a kiss that my dad sent you from the sky. And they still are, Isabel replied with a serene smile. Alejandro hugged her shoulders, drawing her to him in a gesture of infinite gratitude and love. He bent down and whispered in his ear the phrase that would heal the last of the scars. Thank you, Mom. Thank you for never giving up, for never stopping believing in me, even when I didn’t deserve it.

All this happiness, this peace, this future, I owe it to you. Isabel closed her eyes, resting her head on her son’s shoulder. He felt the cool breeze of the night on his face. All the suffering, every tear, every humiliation, everything had been worth it to get to that moment. True wealth had never been in the walls of that mansion, but in the unbreakable love that, like the stars, had continued to shine even in the darkest night.

And now, I could finally enjoy its light. Sometimes life takes time, but it always gives back what is fair. Doña Isabel lost everything until she understood that true love is not bought or imposed. It is cultivated like bread that is kneaded with patience and faith. And in the end God returned to him in smiles what others took away from him in tears.