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.
Instead, he dialed the family lawyer.
“Don’t come,” he said when he answered. “Get me the police and a doctor. Now.”
Valeria paled.
“Alejandro, think about it.”
“I haven’t thought in too long,” he replied.
Then he looked at Claudia.
“Call Mateo’s pediatrician. And a forensic photographer, if you can get one.”
He wasn’t a man used to improvising.
He was a man used to damage control.
