PART 5: THE EMPTY SEAT
The drive away from the federal courthouse was peaceful.
Mateo didn't wake up once.
Alejandro kept his hand resting over mine on the center console, his thumb brushing against my skin in a slow, reassuring rhythm.
We pulled up to our new home, a small, sunlit house with a white porch away from the city center.
It had no towering iron gates.
It had no marble fountains.
But it had air. Clean, safe air.
As we walked through the front door, Alejandro set the carrier basket down on the living room table.
I unbuttoned my maternity coat, letting out a long, heavy breath.
The nightmare of that freezing balcony was over.
But as I looked at the morning paper on the counter, my chest tightened again.
The front page featured a prominent photograph of Doña Victoria leaving the courthouse in tears.
The headline read: VALENZUELA EMPIRE COLLAPSES: HEIRESS PAOLA SENTENCED TO PRISON.
Suddenly, the house phone rang.
The sound was sharp, cutting through the quiet living room.
Alejandro intercepted it before it could wake the baby.
"Hello?" he said, his posture immediately rigid.
He listened for three seconds, his jaw tightening.
May you like
Then he looked at me, his eyes dark with sudden concern.
"It's the estate manager," Alejandro whispered, covering the mouthpiece. "Doña Victoria just suffered a severe panic episode. She’s demanding to speak with you."
