Tita Rosa, the longtime housekeeper, scrubbed dishes with unnecessary force. She said nothing—but her expression spoke volumes.
Sebastian locked himself in his office, staring at his screen.
He told himself he’d done the right thing.
Over and over.
That morning, Elena Cruz had called—his former fiancée, polished and persuasive.
She had returned months ago.
Comforted him.
Warned him.
“Don’t you think it’s strange,” she’d said softly, “the way your nanny looks at you?”
She planted doubt carefully.
Skillfully.
By morning, panic made the decision for him.
He paid Lena extra.
Then let her go.
And now, the house felt hollow.
Upstairs, Aria clutched Lena’s pillow and cried quietly.
She had already lost her mother.
Now she had lost the one person who made the world feel safe again.
Days passed.
Aria grew silent.
Withdrawn.
On the fourth morning, she developed a fever.
Sebastian rushed to her side.
And that was when she spoke.
“She was crying,” Aria whispered. “She didn’t know why she had to leave.”
Each word struck like a blow.
Then she said the sentence that shattered him completely:
“The lady from the city doesn’t love me, Daddy. She pretends. But her eyes are cold.”
“Mi had warm eyes. Like Mama.”