“I pay you to clean,” Isabel said coldly, “not to play substitute mother.”
The twins pressed against Elena’s legs. Isabel snapped her fingers.
“Come here. Now.”
They didn’t move.
Isabel lost patience instantly. She grabbed Mateo’s arm roughly. The child cried out in fear. Elena stepped forward, forgetting hierarchy, forgetting fear.
“Please don’t pull him like that—you’ll hurt him.”
Isabel raised her hand in fury. Alejandro felt his blood boil. Enough.
But he also knew this: Isabel was an expert at tears. If he exploded without proof, she would call it a misunderstanding, blame stress, and tomorrow everything would continue—except Elena would be gone, and his children would be alone.
He stepped out from behind the tree, letting his footsteps crunch on the gravel.
“Isabel,” he said calmly, though it hurt to speak, “what’s going on here?”
Her transformation was instant. Rage turned into a sweet, practiced smile. She released Mateo and rushed toward Alejandro.
“My love, what a surprise,” she said softly. “I was just scolding Elena. You have no idea how careless she’s been.”
Elena stood pale, holding Mateo. When her eyes met Alejandro’s, he silently told her to hold on.
He played his role.