Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Kitchen
The next morning, the atmosphere in the kitchen was thick with anxiety. Marisol stood at the counter, chopping vegetables with trembling hands. Every time the kitchen door swung open, she jumped, expecting Renata to appear with a legal notice or a police officer.
Don Eusebio, the elderly butler who had served the Robles family for three decades, walked in carrying a silver tray. He looked at Marisol, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and deep concern.
“You need to be careful, Marisol,” Eusebio said softly, ensuring the other kitchen staff were out of earshot. “Señor Daniel protected you yesterday, but that only makes you a target. Renata Saavedra is not a woman who forgets an insult.”
“I know, Don Eusebio,” Marisol said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I want to leave. For Camila’s sake, I should just pack our bags and go back to Iztapalapa. But the rent is due, and Camila needs her asthma medication next week. If I lose this income, we will be on the streets.”
“Don’t leave just yet,” Eusebio murmured, leaning in closer. “There is a reason Señor Daniel intervened. Did you see his face when he looked at your daughter?”
Marisol paused, her knife hovering over a carrot. “He looked... sad. Like he was remembering someone.”
“Four years ago, before you came to work here, this house was filled with laughter,” Eusebio said, his voice laced with nostalgia. “Señor Daniel’s younger brother, Alejandro, lived here. He was the opposite of Daniel—warm, artistic, rebellious. He fell in love with a woman from the countryside. When his parents found out, they threatened to disown him. Alejandro packed his bags, took his car, and drove off to marry her. He never made it. A semi-truck hit his car on the highway to Veracruz.”
Marisol felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Her heart began to beat erratically. “Veracruz? Did you say Veracruz?”
“Yes. Why?” Eusebio asked, noticing her sudden paleness.
Before Marisol could answer, the kitchen doors burst open. Renata walked in, flanked by two burly men wearing dark suits. They weren't mansion security; they were private investigators hired by her father’s firm.
“Marisol Gutiérrez,” Renata said, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. “Step away from the counter.”
Marisol immediately stepped back, instinctual fear taking over. Don Eusebio stepped forward. “Miss Renata, Señor Daniel explicitly stated—”
“Señor Daniel isn't here; he’s at a corporate summit in Santa Fe until tonight,” Renata interrupted, tossing a manila folder onto the kitchen table. “And what Señor Daniel doesn't know won't hurt him. At least, not until I present him with the truth about the thief he’s harboring under his roof.”
Marisol’s heart dropped. “Thief? I haven't stolen anything!”
“Oh, really?” Renata smirked, gesturing to one of her men. The investigator stepped forward, holding a clear plastic bag. Inside was a diamond bracelet—one of Renata’s most expensive pieces, given to her by Daniel for their engagement anniversary.
“We found this hidden beneath the mattress in the maid’s quarters,” the investigator stated mechanically.
“That’s a lie!” Marisol cried out, her voice cracking with despair. “I’ve never even been near your jewelry box! Don Eusebio, please tell her, I was cleaning the terrace all morning!”
“I can vouch for her, Miss Renata,” Eusebio said firmly, his eyes flashing with anger. “This is a clear setup.”
“Silence, Eusebio! Your loyalty to the staff over this family will get you fired next,” Renata snapped. She turned her cold, predatory gaze back to Marisol. “The police are already on their way. A high-value theft like this will put you away for at least ten years. Imagine what will happen to poor little Camila then. An orphan, sent to a state-run asylum, growing up in the system...”
May you like
“No! Please, no!” Marisol fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The thought of her sweet, innocent Camila being taken away by child services was a living nightmare. “Please don’t do this. I’ll leave! I’ll take Camila and we’ll disappear. You’ll never see us again! Just don’t call the police!”
Renata smiled, a chilling, victorious grin. “Pack your things. You have ten minutes. If you’re still on the property when the clock strikes twelve, I’ll personally hand you over to the authorities.”
