“You go,” she said. “But don’t stay if they treat you badly.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
I borrowed a skirt, fixed my hair, and took the bus across town. The houses grew larger with every stop until I reached Magnolia Bluff—where even the trees looked expensive.
The Zárate estate didn’t look like a home. It looked like power.
A man opened the door before I knocked.
“Miss Reyes?”
I nodded.
Inside, everything was polished—marble floors, fresh flowers, quiet wealth. I followed him to a sitting room where Beatrice waited.
“You’re on time,” she said.
“I couldn’t afford not to be.”
They questioned me carefully—about lifting, cleaning, habits, family. I answered honestly.
Then Beatrice stood. “You need to understand—he’s cruel.”
“I’ve handled worse,” I said.
She studied me, then led me upstairs.
The room was silent. Not peaceful—controlled.
Adrián Zárate sat near the window in a motorized chair. Even still, he carried authority. When he turned, his eyes were cold, sharp, tired.
He looked at me once.
“No.”
Beatrice sighed. “At least speak to her.”
“I don’t need to. She looks frightened, poor, and unqualified.”
My hands trembled, but I spoke anyway.
“I am poor,” I said. “But I’m not weak.”