“What part doesn’t look like what it is?”
She quickly changed her tune. Denial. Excuse. Shared blame.
“He’s a difficult child. He manipulates. He hits himself. He lies. You’re never there, and someone has to set boundaries.”
Mateo began to cry silently.
That silent crying tore at me more than any scream.
Because a child only learns to cry like that when he understands that his pain is bothersome.
“Don’t ever speak to him again,” I told her.
Valeria ignored me and went straight to Alejandro.
“You know how it is. The press. Your last name. If you make a scene over a misunderstanding, you’ll destroy us.”
And there lay the real heart of the problem.
It wasn’t just cruelty.
It was complacency. Power. Image. Years of closed doors, well-paid people, and well-trained silences.
Alejandro picked up the phone on his desk. I thought he’d call security. I thought he’d throw me out of the house.
