That morning, the sharp winter air of Barcelona drifted through the tall windows as Elisa stood in the kitchen, carefully shaping gingerbread cookies. Her hands moved on instinct. She had made these same cookies every Christmas for the past four years—because they were the only ones Lucía would eat.
Outside, the city shimmered with holiday lights. Inside the estate, staff hurried through the halls, preparing for a lavish Christmas celebration.
But to Elisa, the house felt hollow.
Empty.
Heavy.
Because she knew what no one else did.
At exactly 11:59 p.m., her time there would end.
The letter had arrived three days earlier.
Thick paper. Formal wording. A precise signature at the bottom.
Alejandro Cortés.
Her employer.
Lucía’s father.
The letter informed her—politely, efficiently—that her services as Lucía’s nanny would no longer be required. Her contract would end on December 24 at 11:59 p.m.
No explanation.
No discussion.
Just an ending.
Elisa had read it in the hallway, her back pressed to the wall as though the words themselves had knocked the breath from her chest.
Four years.
Four years of sleepless nights.