A millionaire crossed the foyer of his mansion, immaculate as ever, until he heard a desperate scream. “Don’t touch her, ma’am,” it was the voice of his maid defending his ailing mother. He thought it was a misunderstanding, but what he saw when he opened the door changed everything forever.

Before continuing, don’t forget to subscribe and leave your like, because what you’re about to see will never be erased from your memory. The night was too still; not even the neighborhood dogs were barking. It was as if the ironworks mansion, with its imposing windows and museum-like silence,

was secretly breathing, holding its breath. Suddenly, a heartbreaking scream broke the calm. “No, let me go. No.”
Alejandro bolted upright in his bed. His heart was pounding in his ears like a drum. It was 2 a.m., and that sound couldn’t be mistaken for a nightmare. It was real. Without thinking, he left the room and ran down the hallway, dimly lit by the emergency lights. Every footstep

echoed on the cold marble.
The scream came from his mother’s room. He opened the door abruptly. The scene stopped him in his tracks. Doña Mercedes was huddled against the headboard, trembling, her hands raised, as if trying to protect herself. In front of her, Camila, his fiancée, immaculate in her silk robe,

was roughly holding her arm.
The expression on Camila’s face was one of suppressed fury, nothing Alejandro had ever seen in public. “Enough!” Alejandro shouted as he entered. Camila immediately let go of the old woman and turned to him with a nervous smile. That same smile that charmed everyone at receptions. Ale, darling, he

was confused. She was about to hurt herself. She was trying to get out into the hallway alone.
Doña Mercedes, however, wordlessly denied him. Her moist, bulging eyes stared into her son’s, pleading for protection. At that moment, the door opened again. Lucía Ramírez, the employee in charge of Mercedes’s care, entered agitatedly, her apron wrinkled from running so much.

“What happened?” she asked, immediately approaching the old woman.
She knelt beside the bed and took Doña Mercedes’s hands tenderly, murmuring soft words, almost like a lullaby. The old woman gradually began to relax. Alejandro watched the scene with a mixture of bewilderment and anger. He couldn’t ignore the tension in the

air, the difference between Camila’s brusque gesture and Lucía’s gentleness.
Camila said in a firmer voice. “Come out for a moment, please.” She hesitated. “Alejandro, you really don’t understand. I told you to come out.” Camila looked at him with a flash of indignation before obeying. She closed the door too forcefully, leaving a metallic echo behind.

Silence reigned again, broken only by the muffled hollows of Doña Mercedes and Lucía’s soothing murmur. Alejandro sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process what had happened. “Mom, calm down, it’s over,” he whispered, stroking her gray hair. She looked at him with a flash of strange lucidity.

Her lips trembled, and she managed to say, “Does he want to take me out of here? He wants to take me out.” Alejandro swallowed. Her words pierced his chest. The illness was making her confuse names and memories. But that phrase sounded too concrete. Lucía watched him, and for a second he noticed a silent message in her gaze.

Listen to her. That night, as his mother finally fell asleep, Alejandro felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear. Fear of what he had seen in Camila’s eyes.
Fear of what was happening under his own roof. Fear that he was ignoring a truth that had always been right in front of him. He couldn’t sleep. She walked through the mansion’s dark hallways with the echo of that scream ringing in her head. And although she tried to convince herself it had been just a

misunderstanding, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just cracked in her life.
What she didn’t know was that that crack, that first suspicion, would be the door to an abyss that would test everything she thought she knew about love, loyalty, and true greatness. The Herrera mansion shone that night like a lit palace. The illuminated windows let out

glints of crystal and violin music.
Luxury cars lined up at the entrance while uniformed chauffeurs opened doors with impeccable gestures. In the grand hall, everything was set up to impress. Chandeliers dripping with golden light, tables set with glasses of bubbling champagne, and a discreet orchestra filling the air with classical melodies.

The Herrera name was synonymous with economic power, and Camila Guzmán knew it.
That night wasn’t just a reception; it was a showcase to bolster her own image. Camila descended the main staircase dressed in a deep red, as if she’d planned every detail to dazzle. Her lipstick seemed designed to smile at just the right angle.

Alejand

\

Alejandro was waiting for her downstairs, impeccably dressed in a dark suit. He proudly took her hand, and together they introduced themselves as the couple everyone envied. “Alejandro, how fortunate to have you here,” a senator greeted, shaking his hand firmly. “And you, Camila, ever more radiant.” She laughed

softly, barely inclining her head.
She knew how to hold a gaze just long enough to leave a mark. Throughout the evening, Camila moved naturally among businessmen, politicians, and society ladies. Every word she said seemed rehearsed, every gesture measured. Alejandro watched her with satisfaction. She was elegant, charming, the

perfect woman to keep the family’s reputation intact.
But while everyone admired the spectacle, there was an invisible crack in that setting. Doña Mercedes had been installed in a secluded armchair with a blanket over her legs. Lucía remained discreetly near her, making sure she felt at ease. The old woman looked at the

crowd with wild eyes, trying to recognize faces she no longer remembered.
Camila, in the middle of a conversation with a socialite, glanced quickly toward Mercedes. It was only a second, but it was enough for Lucía to notice. Her lips twisted in annoyance, a trace of impatience that none of the other guests could detect.

Would you like some water, Doña Mercedes? Lucía whispered, leaning gently. So many people, the old woman murmured uncertainly. Yes, but don’t worry. I’m here. Mercedes nodded slightly, trusting that voice that always managed to calm her. Meanwhile, Camila raised her glass and toasted a

group of investors.
She laughed, made sharp comments, and talked about charitable projects she had never promoted. Lucía, from her corner, watched as the crowd fell in love with that perfect image. It was like watching a seasoned actress in her role. At one point, Alejandro led Camila to her mother.

“Mom, do you want to say hello to some friends?” he asked affectionately, trying to integrate her.
Camila smiled, leaning toward the old woman. “Sure, Doña Mercedes, come on.” Her smile lasted only as long as it took her to turn her face toward the audience. As soon as Alejandro looked away, the pressure of his fingers on the old woman’s arm was unnecessarily strong, almost a tug. Mercedes

complained in a whisper that was lost in the din. Lucía saw everything.
She took a step forward, her lips parted, but she held back. She knew any word she said at that moment would come back to haunt her. She simply followed closely, ready to intervene if necessary. The parade of greetings continued. Camila smiled. The old woman nodded, not fully understanding,

and Alejandro, distracted between conversations, seemed satisfied with the scene, but Lucía noticed the contrast.

The glare of the spotlights against Mercedes’s discomfort, Camila’s laughter against the trembling of the old woman’s hands. When the round of greetings finally ended, Camila led Mercedes back to her chair, almost surreptitiously pushing her. No one noticed, except for Lucía, who quickly approached.

“Are you okay, Doña Mercedes?” she asked, adjusting the blanket on her legs. The old woman was breathing heavily.
“I don’t want to, I don’t want to be here.” Lucía gently squeezed her hands. “It’s almost over, I promise. I’ll stay by her side.” A few feet away, Camila immersed herself again in the crowd, collecting compliments like jewels. Alejandro followed her with his gaze, proud. For him, that woman was proof that he had made the right decision in getting engaged.
But while the orchestra played a ball and the guests laughed, a silent truth was brewing in the shadows of the mansion. Behind the perfect social mask was a face that very few could see, and with every hidden gesture, every imperceptible grimace, he was discovering it. The

morning after the reception, the mansion dawned strangely silent, as if the music and laughter had been a dream.
The servants were collecting forgotten glasses and arranging wilted vases. Alejandro walked down the stairs, his face tired, his mind still caught in the glow of the previous night, but something stopped him as he passed the main hall: an 18th-century Chinese vase, part of his father’s collection, was no longer on its pedestal. “Who moved this?” he asked, looking around. A butler shrugged. “Sir, when we arrived to clean, it was no longer in its place. We found it behind the curtains.” Alejandro frowned. It didn’t make sense. That object never moved. He decided to ignore it, convinced that perhaps some curious guest had played with it. However, that wasn’t the only

oddity of the day.
Later, upon entering her mother’s room, she found her dresser drawers empty. Doña Mercedes had taken out her clothes and hidden them in the closet as if she was afraid someone would steal them. “Mom, what happened here?”

he asked in surprise. She looked at him with confused eyes and murmured,

“I don’t want them to take it away from me. I don’t want to.” Alejandro tried to smile, downplaying it. No one’s going to take anything from you, Mom.
All of this is yours. But the fear in Mercedes’s eyes disarmed him. It wasn’t a passing forgetfulness, it was a visceral panic. Lucía appeared in the doorway with a tray of tea. She stopped when she saw it, and without saying anything, she began gathering the clothes to put them away.

Her movements were gentle, almost invisible, as if she knew any abruptness could increase the old woman’s anxiety. “She’s been feeling more restless lately,” he commented in a low voice. “Sometimes she tells me someone wants to get her out of here.” Alejandro pressed his lips together, remembering the words

his mother had whispered the night of the scream. “Maybe they’re just confused ideas,” he replied, but his tone didn’t sound convincing, not even to himself. That day, rumors began to circulate among the staff. In the kitchen, Alejandro overheard two employees murmuring, “Did you see how Doña Mercedes looked at the reception?” one said. “Yes, she seemed scared. And that’s even though

Camila never leaves her side in public.” They fell silent when they noticed Alejandro’s presence.
He pretended not to have heard, but the discomfort stuck with him. That same afternoon, he took his mother for a medical checkup. The doctor, an older man with a serious expression, calmly examined Mercedes and then moved him to a corner. “Mr. Herrera, Alzheimer’s doesn’t just erase memories,” she said in a calm tone,

it also magnifies emotions.
Your mother is extremely vulnerable. The worst damage she can suffer is not physical, but emotional. If she feels rejected or stressed, the disease will progress more quickly. Alejandro listened in silence. The words weighed on him like a judgment. So what should I do? Surround her with affection, prevent her

from perceiving hostility, and above all, not ignore what she is saying, even if it seems incoherent.
On the way back to the mansion, Alejandro watched his mother dozing in the backseat with her forehead against the glass. He wondered if he was really exaggerating by giving credence to her fears or if behind that fragility there were signs he didn’t want to see. When they arrived, Lucía

was waiting for them at the entrance.
She ran to help Mercedes get out of the car, taking her hands with that tenderness that seemed natural to her. The old woman smiled weakly, as if seeing her, she found a point of security amid her confusion. Alejandro He noticed. It was the same contrast he had seen in the early morning. The calm

she achieved in seconds compared to the confusion that took him hours.
That night, as he walked through the halls, he again found something out of place. A set of keys hidden inside a vase. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t justify it. And for the first time, Alejandro wondered if the mansion he was so proud of was holding deeper secrets than

it wanted to accept.
The sun was slowly setting behind the mansion’s gardens, tinting the windows with an orange glow. Outside, the rosebushes were still damp from the afternoon watering. Inside, the stillness of Doña Mercedes’s room seemed to belong to another world, more intimate, more fragile.

Lucia entered with light steps, carrying in her hands a small wooden box she had discovered that morning in a forgotten drawer in the dressing room.
The object was covered in dust, as if it had waited years for someone to rescue it. “Look what I found, Doña Mercedes,” she said. Gently, she sat down on the side of the bed. The old woman, who until then had been staring blankly at the wall, slowly turned her head. Her eyes,

tired but attentive, rested on the small chest.
She reached out with a trembling hand, caressing the lid with wrinkled fingers. “It was mine,” she murmured softly as a child. Lucía smiled, carefully turned the handle, and suddenly the room was filled with a delicate, crystalline melody, as if someone had let slip a trapped memory.

The music rose timidly, with notes that seemed to dance in the air.
Mercedes’s eyes opened wider. A brief, unexpected laugh escaped her lips. “That song,” she whispered in amazement, “my father, my father used to play it on the piano back on the estate.” Lucía remained silent, letting the echo of the music work its magic. Each note seemed to pluck a thread of memory

hidden in the old woman’s mind.
“Do you want to sing it with me?” Lucía suggested, humming the melody. Mercedes hesitated, her lips trembling, but little by little she joined in, stammering out broken verses. She forgot some words, replacing them with sounds, but the rhythm was there. It was as if Alzheimer’s had taken a step back

to allow her to enjoy that moment of clarity.
When she finished, Mercedes sighed and dropped her head onto Lucía’s shoulder. “You remind me of my mother,” she said haltingly. Lucía swallowed hard.

Emotion filled her, she gently wrapped her arms around her and stayed by her side, caressing her hand until the old woman’s breathing calmed.

The next day, Lucía returned to the room with something different: a photo album she had found in the library. The leather was worn, and some pages were peeling with age. “Look, Doña Mercedes, I brought this. Maybe you’d like it.” The old woman took the album with curiosity,

flipping through it slowly. At first, she seemed to recognize nothing, but suddenly she paused her finger on a black and white photo: a girl with braids next to a young man in uniform. “That one,” she said, pointing at the boy.
“That was my brother. He always made me laugh.” Her voice broke, but a spark of lucidity shone in her eyes that moved Lucía. “Tell me about him,” the young woman encouraged. Mercedes spoke between pauses, about afternoons spent playing in the fields, about the dog that always followed her, about the blue dress her mother had sewn for her.

Each memory was like a window that opened for a moment before closing again. Lucía listened attentively, smiling, encouraging with gentle questions. In each story, she discovered the woman Doña Mercedes had been before illness slowly took her away.

One rainy afternoon, thunder rumbled on the roof, and the mansion seemed darker than ever. Mercedes was restless, agitated, convinced that someone was looking for her to take her far away. “I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want them to find me,” she repeated anxiously. Lucía sat next to her,

took her hands, and began to hum the melody from the music box.
Her voice was low, warm, enveloping. The sound mingled with the rain like a protective murmur. Listen, Doña Mercedes, you’re safe here with me. No one is going to take you out of this house. The old woman breathed deeply, her eyelids slowly relaxed, and in a matter of minutes she fell asleep

with a serene face.
Lucía remained seated without letting go of her until she was sure she was sleeping soundly. From the half-open door, Alejandro watched. He had gone up to visit his mother and found the scene. Lucía singing softly, her mother’s hand intertwined with his, the atmosphere of peace that seemed

impossible in the midst of illness.
He felt a lump in his throat, didn’t want to interrupt, closed the door slowly, and walked away, wondering why he himself was unable to achieve that effect on his mother. That night, the table lamp remained lit in the room.
Lucía, exhausted, fell asleep in the chair next to the bed, her fingers still intertwined with Mercedes’s. The old woman, even in her dreams, seemed to cling to that protective presence. The rest of the house was in Silence, as if all the luxury of the mansion had vanished into

the gloom. There, in that secluded room, lay true refuge, not in banquets or jewels, but in old songs, forgotten photographs, and the tenderness of a woman who with infinite patience managed to restore a bit of dignity to a fragmented memory. And although

the outside world continued to revolve with its parties and appearances, Lucía had secretly created
a space where Mercedes could feel at home again. The murmur of the orchestra once again filled the mansion. It was the second grand reception in less than a month, and Camila had insisted that this one should surpass the last. The main hall was adorned with dazzling floral

arrangements, warm lights, and tables that looked like they were straight out of a magazine.
The guests, dressed to the nines, strolled the halls with glasses of champagne in hand. Camila floated among them like the perfect hostess, wearing a deep blue dress and a smile that never broke. She gave the impression She was born for that stage. She greeted, laughed, and commented with precision

on every political detail she knew would win sympathy.
Alejandro proudly accompanied her, convinced that his fiancée carried herself with the confidence of a queen. But upstairs, far from the toasts and laughter, another reality overflowed. Doña Mercedes sat in her armchair by the window, breathing heavily. Her hands

were shaking, and she repeated a halting phrase: “So many people, I can’t, I can’t.”
” The distant echo of the music and the bustle seemed to pierce her head like needles. Lucía, who had come up to bring her a cup of tea, stopped immediately when she saw her agitation, set the tray aside, and knelt in front of her. “I’m here, Doña Mercedes. Look into my eyes. Just look at me,”

he said gently, taking her icy hands.
The old woman was breathing rapidly, almost hyperventilating. Lucía began to hum the same melody from the music box slowly, steadily, until the rhythm of Mercedes’s breathing began to match the singing. “Don’t worry, it’s okay. No one’s going to bother you. I’ll stay with you.”

The old woman’s eyelids slowly closed.

The tension in her hands eased. When Lucía was sure she was more stable, she took a blanket and gently covered her. In the main hall, the atmosphere was the complete opposite. Camila was raising her glass, surrounded by businessmen, politicians, and socialites. “Alejandro and I believe in the

future,” she said clearly.
The Herrera family has a duty to represent the values ​​of this country, and we’re going to do it together. Elegant applause broke out among the guests. Alejandro smiled pleased, although inside he felt a slight emptiness he couldn’t explain. It was then that Lucía discreetly stepped down. She approached

the serving area, trying not to attract attention.
From there, she could hear the laughter and toasts; the contrast with what she had just experienced in Mercedes’s room struck her hard. Alejandro excused himself for a moment and crossed to the kitchen. He wanted to get some air away from the noise. There, he found Lucía, who was washing her hands, still

with a look of concern. “What are you doing here?” he asked curiously. Lucía looked at him for a second, hesitant. “I just came to make some tea for your mother.”
She was a little nervous. Alejandro watched her silently. There was something in her tone that made him pause. Nervous, how so? Lucía hesitated. She didn’t want to sound accusatory. She lowered her voice; the music and the voices upset her, but she’s better now. She calmed down. Alejandro nodded slowly. He returned to the hall,

but Lucía’s words echoed in his mind. He began to look at the reception with different eyes.
Camila shone at the center of everything, receiving praise. However, on the periphery of the party, his mother was suffering in silence. The contrast was all too evident. A hearty laugh brought him out of his thoughts. A guest patted him on the back. Alejandro, how lucky are you

with this woman? She’s made to shine.
He smiled politely, but his eyes strayed toward the stairs. For the first time, he felt clearly that there were two worlds in his own house: the one Camila showed to the public and the one lived in private with her mother, and those worlds didn’t fit together. Later, as the last guests

were leaving, Alejandro found Camila supervising the staff as they cleared away the glasses. “It was perfect, wasn’t it?” she said, satisfied.
He looked at her for a moment. He saw the impeccable woman, smiling, self-confident, but in his mind, he couldn’t stop seeing the image of his mother trembling, taking refuge in Lucía’s hands. “Yes, perfect,” she replied in a low, unconvinced voice. As Camila turned to give more

orders, Alejandro realized that the social perfection he admired so much was beginning to crumble before his eyes.
The shadow of his mother’s suffering contrasted too sharply with the brilliance Camila tried to maintain at all costs. And although he still didn’t dare admit it, something inside him was beginning to awaken. The morning dawned serene in the mansion. After the last reception, the halls

seemed to rest.
The music and laughter had evaporated, leaving only the echo of cleared glasses and freshly vacuumed carpets. The air had that scent of sidewalks and wilted flowers that always lingers after a luxurious evening. Lucía had been accompanying Doña Mercedes for hours. She had managed to convince her to have breakfast in the

small interior garden, a corner sheltered from the wind and with pots of geraniums that the old woman used to contemplate in silence.
There, Mercedes felt a little calmer. The birdsong and the mid-morning sun were refuges that distanced her from the noise. “Look at those red flowers, Doña Mercedes,” Lucía said, arranging a light blanket over her legs. “They’re just like the ones on your estate, remember?” The old woman

tilted her head as if trying to catch a memory that was slipping away.
“The estate,” she repeated in a faint voice. “Yes, there were rosebushes, I think they were mine.” Lucía smiled and nodded, reinforcing the idea with an affirmative nod. They were yours. Of course they were. You took care of them better than anyone. Mercedes seemed reassured by that certainty. Her hands, which had been

restless on the blanket, stilled.
As the old woman concentrated on watching the sky, Lucía took the opportunity to go to the kitchen to prepare fresh water. She walked quickly through the halls, enjoying that brief moment of calm. But upon entering the kitchen, she ran into something she hadn’t expected. Camila was standing by the counter, watching her

with an overly calculated smile.
Lucía said in a sweet tone, exactly who she wanted to see. The employee stopped in her tracks, holding the empty pitcher. “Yes, Miss Camila.” Alejandro’s fiancée walked slowly toward her like an actress measuring each step on a stage. Her heels clicked on the marble floor with a

firm cadence. “We need to clarify something about your role in this house.”
” Lucía frowned slightly, though she tried to maintain her composure. “My role, my job, is to take care of Doña Mercedes.” Exactly.

Take care of her. Don’t make yourself indispensable, don’t give opinions no one asked for, much less contradict me in front of others. Camila’s tone had changed, cold and

cutting, although her smile still remained plastered on her face. Lucía took a deep breath. She knew the moment she had been avoiding had arrived.

With all due respect, miss, she replied slowly. “I don’t mean to contradict you, but if someone treats the lady harshly, I can’t remain silent.” Camila’s eyes flashed with fury. She took a step closer until the distance between them was minimal. “You don’t understand

how things work here,” she said in a low voice, barely a venomous whisper.
“This mansion is my home now, and in my house, I decide what’s right for everyone.” Lucía gripped the jug tightly in her hands to keep it from shaking. “The mansion belongs to Mr. Alejandro and his mother,” she replied firmly. “And as long as I’m here, I’ll continue to take care of it properly.”

The silence grew heavy, almost suffocating. Camila tilted her head as if sizing up her rival. “Listen to me carefully,” she said, smiling again, though her eyes were as cold as steel. “If you challenge me again, if you dare question what I do or say, you’ll be out of a job. Do you understand?”

Lucía felt a knot in her stomach. She knew she had no other family,
that her job at the mansion was her only support, but she also knew that a fragile life depended on her. She swallowed and held his gaze. “I’d rather lose my job than sit idly by.” crossed while she suffers. Camila’s smile broke for a moment, revealing her true face.

At that moment, a sound in the hallway made them both jump.
The footsteps were firm and familiar. Alejandro appeared in the kitchen doorway. “What’s going on here?” he asked, frowning. Camila reacted first; in a matter of seconds, she recovered her mask and turned to him with an angelic smile. “Nothing, love, I was just explaining to

Lucia that she should watch her tone a little, you know, so the house stays harmonious.”
” Lucía opened her mouth, about to retort, but stopped. The memory of the threat still burned in her ears, and the thought of involving Mercedes in a conflict made her restrain herself. Alejandro looked at them both suspiciously. He had felt the tension in the air, but the image in front of him was confusing. Camila,

smiling sweetly, remained silent with her lips pressed together.
” “It’s okay,” she finally said in a dry voice. “I trust everything is in order.” She turned and walked down the hall. Silence fell again like a heavy curtain. Camila smoothed a lock of her hair and bowed slightly to Lucía before leaving. “You see,” she murmured maliciously. “He

believes in me. You’re just the employee.”
The echo of her heels faded into the corridor. Lucía stood still for a moment, her breathing ragged, trying to regain control. She felt anger, helplessness, and fear, but also something deeper, a certainty. Her duty wasn’t to remain silent or protect herself, but to protect the woman

who trusted her like no one else did.
With a firm step, she returned to the garden where Mercedes was still looking at the geraniums. Seeing her, the old woman smiled weakly as if nothing had happened. Lucía sat down beside her and, without saying a word about what had happened, gently took her hand. That simple gesture was her own promise.

Whatever happened, she wouldn’t leave her alone. The afternoon was falling with a cool breeze that gently stirred the living room curtains.
Mercedes was sitting in her favorite armchair by the window overlooking the garden. She had been restless during the morning, but now she seemed more serene, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Lucía entered silently, carrying a tray of tea and shortbread she had prepared

specially.
She knew that smells and tastes sometimes awakened hidden memories. She placed the tray on the low table and crouched down in front of the old woman. “Doña Mercedes, look what I brought,” she said with a gentle smile. The old woman blinked several times, then leaned forward. She took a cookie with

shaking hands, smelled it, and held it between her fingers as if that simple gesture had opened a door to her memory. “My mother made cookies like that,” she murmured.
Lucía didn’t reply. She knew she should let the stream of memories flow on its own. She sat nearby, waiting. Suddenly, Mercedes began to hum a melody so low it was barely audible at first. Lucía tilted her head, recognizing the beat. “It’s a song,” she asked softly.

The old woman nodded and, in a broken voice, began to sing a few words. When the river flows clear and the moon sways in it, her voice cracked, but the emotion remained. Lucía carefully hummed along. She had learned that music had a special power, and that melody seemed to

spring from deep within Mercedes.
Little

Little by little, the old woman regained confidence, completing loose sentences, as if her memory were flashing. “Who taught you that song, Doña Mercedes?” Lucía asked, taking advantage of the moment of lucidity. The old woman smiled with a rarely seen sparkle in her eyes. He spoke, and

her voice filled with tenderness. He was playing it on the guitar. Lucía insisted delicately.
“My first love,” she confessed, lowering her gaze like a shy girl. “A young man who worked on the farm. His hands were rough, but he played like an angel.” Lucía felt goosebumps rise on her skin. The old woman, who sometimes couldn’t even remember her own name, now spoke clearly about a love from her

youth. Mercedes continued.
“My father never approved. He said I deserved another life, and he left. But I never forgot that song. Never.” Tears welled up in her wrinkled eyes. Lucía took her hand and squeezed it tenderly. What a beautiful memory, Doña Mercedes, and how wonderful that she still carries it in her heart.

It was at that moment that Alejandro appeared in the doorway. He hadn’t meant to interrupt, but his mother’s voice had drawn him like a magnet. He sat still, listening with a tight chest. He watched as Lucía patiently accompanied Mercedes, how she encouraged her to keep singing, and

how she made that memory shine brightly, even if only for a few minutes.
Mercedes laughed through her tears, as if the song had restored youth to her soul. Alejandro had never seen her like this in recent years. When the melody ended, the old woman sighed and closed her eyes, exhausted but at peace. Lucía arranged the blanket over his legs, still holding his

hand.
Alejandro took a step into the room. What were they singing? he asked softly. Lucía looked at him, surprised that he was there. An old song she remembered. She said a friend taught it to her. Alejandro approached slowly and looked at his sleeping mother. There were dried tears on her

cheeks and a faint smile on her lips. He felt a pain in his chest mixed with gratitude.
“Not me, I can’t get her to talk to me like that,” he confessed almost in a whisper. Lucía looked down. “It’s not you, Mr. Alejandro, it’s the illness. Sometimes a window opens and one has to be ready to hear whatever comes out.” He remained silent, watching the old woman breathe calmly

while Lucía’s hand remained entwined with his.
For the first time, Alejandro understood that this humble young woman understood his mother in a way he hadn’t known, and that certainty moved him more than he cared to admit. That night, as he walked down the hall toward her room, Alejandro couldn’t stop thinking about the scene. His mother’s voice,

her shining eyes as she spoke of a lost love, the way Lucía had known how to listen to her.
The contrast struck him. While Camila was preoccupied with her public image, Lucía dedicated herself to rescuing fragments of her mother’s soul. For the first time, Alejandro felt that perhaps he had been looking in the wrong direction for too long.

The mansion’s main dining room was set up as if it were a formal affair, although there were only two people at the table. Camila had ordered that the china be used for breakfast and that the table be adorned with white lilies in a central vase. Everything seemed carefully

planned to impress, even in private.
Alejandro flipped through a newspaper while buttering his bread without much appetite. Camila, sitting across from him, slowly stirred her coffee, looking at him intently. “Alejandro, darling,” she finally said in a melodious voice. “I think it’s time we stopped postponing the inevitable.” He

looked up, a little tired. “What? Our wedding,” he replied with a broad smile. “We’ve been engaged for months, and everyone knows it.” We can’t keep putting it off.” People start talking. Alejandro put his knife down on his plate, sighing. “We’ve already discussed this, Camila. “My mother’s situation, precisely,” she interrupted him firmly.
“A wedding now would be the perfect opportunity to show that everything is under control, that nothing and no one can stop us.” He frowned. “I’m not worried about what people think, I’m worried about my mother. She’s in no condition to endure change.” Camila’s smile tightened.

Alejandro, listen to me carefully. We can’t build our future tied to the past. Your mother needs specialized care.
I’m not saying this, the doctors are. There are extraordinary centers where they would care for her day and night. You would be calm, I would too, and we could focus on our lives.” The phrase echoed in the room. Alejandro looked down at his plate. “Our life,” he repeated almost in a whisper. “Yes,” she answered

without hesitation. The two of us, our family, our place in society.
The silence stretched, broken only by the faint clinking of the spoon in Camila’s cup. It was then that Lucía

She appeared at the entrance to the dining room with a tray of medicine and water for Mercedes. She stopped when she noticed the tension, but Camila had already turned her head toward her.

“Lucia, come here for a moment,” Camila said, her tone too sweet to sound sincere. “We want your opinion.” Lucía moved forward slowly, uncomfortably. “Yes, miss. Alejandro and I were talking about how Doña Mercedes would be better off in a specialized center. Don’t you think so too?” Lucía’s heart skipped a beat.

She had heard rumors of that possibility, but hearing it from Camila so directly made her grip the tray tightly.
“Excuse me,” she finally said in a calm but firm voice. “I don’t think so. The lady feels safe here in her home.” Removing her from this environment would be very hard for her.” Alejandro looked up at the young woman, surprised by her confidence. Camila smiled, although a flash of anger flickered in her eyes.

You see, Alejandro, even the maid thinks she has the right to decide.
Lucia lowered her gaze to avoid a bigger confrontation and left silently. Later, Alejandro found Lucía in the kitchen peeling fruit on the marble countertop. She raised her head when she heard him enter, her expression wary. “About this morning,” he started. “Do you really think it would be a mistake to take my mother to a center?”
Lucia put the knife aside and dried her hands with a cloth. “I’m not saying those places are bad, Mr. Alejandro, but they’re not her home. She needs to feel part of something, to feel like she still belongs in his life and in yours. If you send her to a center, she’ll experience it as abandonment. And the emotional damage can be worse than the illness.” He remained silent, processing each word.
Camila insists that it would be the best thing for “Everyone,” he finally said. Lucía looked at him calmly, with a frankness that almost no one allowed herself in that house. Perhaps it would be best for her, but not for his mother. Alejandro lowered his gaze. Lucía’s clarity struck him in a way he didn’t want to admit.

That afternoon, in the hallway connecting the bedrooms, Lucía found herself face to face with Camila. No one else was around. “You’re very bold, Lucía,” Camila said, crossing her arms. Contradicting me in front of Alejandro wasn’t smart. Lucía held her gaze.

“I didn’t do it to argue with you; I did it because she needs me here.” Camila’s expression hardened. “Listen to me carefully,” she whispered, leaning toward her. “If you come between Alejandro and me again, if you continue to turn against me, I assure you that you will have no place in this house.” Lucía pressed

her lips together, holding back her anger and fear. If losing my place is the price for taking care of her, I will pay it.

The two stood motionless, facing each other until a distant noise forced them to move apart. Camila walked away with an elegant gait, leaving a stifled air behind her. Lucía leaned her back against the wall, breathing deeply. Her heart was pounding, but her resolve was firm.

Doña Mercedes would not be abandoned as long as she could prevent it. That night, Alejandro went up to his mother’s room and found her half asleep, her head resting on Lucía’s shoulder. The young woman was quietly reading a passage from a book while gently stroking the old woman’s hand.

Alejandro paused at the threshold, watching.
Camila wanted to speed up the wedding and get her mother out of the mansion. Lucía, on the other hand, was there, holding her with patience and tenderness. The contrast became more and more unbearable. The day dawned clear, but the mansion felt different, as if the air was charged with

something no one dared to name.
Alejandro descended the stairs with a cup of coffee in his hand, trying to focus on the company’s pending matters. However, the conversation with Camila about sending his mother to a specialized center was still swirling in his head. As he walked down the main hallway, a

murmur coming from the kitchen made him stop.
The door was barely ajar, and he recognized the voices of two employees. “I’m telling you, I saw it with my own eyes,” one whispered fearfully. Miss Camila spoke rudely to Doña Mercedes. She told her she was in the way and that she should learn to stay quiet. “Sh, stop,”

the other interrupted.
“Do you want someone to listen to us? So what?” the first one replied. “It’s not fair. The poor lady doesn’t always understand what’s going on, and on top of that, I couldn’t bear to put up with that.” Alejandro froze in the hallway. His heart raced. He gently pushed the door. The two women immediately

turned around, their faces pale as flour. “What are you talking about?” he asked in a neutral tone that concealed his concern. “About grocery shopping, sir,” one of them stammered, avoiding his gaze. The other lowered her head and nodded quickly. Alejandro looked at them for a few seconds in silence, then simply nodded and walked away with a firm step, but inside him doubt was beginning to form.

Remain like a shadow. Hours later, in the library, he called the butler.
The man had been with the house for more than 20 years. He was discreet and faithful. If anyone could give him a sincere answer, it was him. “Tell me the truth,” Alejandro began, standing in front of the window. “You’ve noticed something strange in Camila’s behavior toward my mother.” The butler shifted uncomfortably.

Sir, I don’t like to talk about things that don’t concern me. I’m asking for your sincerity.” The man lowered his gaze, clasping his hands behind his back. “Miss Camila is a very proper woman in public, but he paused. “Yes, I have occasionally noticed a certain impatience with Doña Mercedes.

She treats her with a tone that isn’t always friendly.” Alejandro froze.
It was a brief confession, but enough to make his stomach churn. In the afternoon, Alejandro went for a walk in the gardens to clear his head. The birdsong and the scent of the rosebushes did nothing to calm his mind. In the distance, he heard the voices of two gardeners talking while

working near the wall. “The lady was crying the other day after Camila left her room,” one of them said in a low voice. “Yes. I heard it too,” the other replied.
“But it’s better not to say anything. Anyone here can lose their job for talking too much.” Alejandro hid behind a hedge, his heart pounding. He felt like an intruder in his own home, listening to truths no one dared to speak to his face. That night, in his study, he

poured himself a double whiskey. The fire in the fireplace illuminated the room, but he only saw shadows.
He sank into the leather armchair and closed his eyes. The words he’d heard mingled in his mind. He treats her with contempt. This isn’t the first time. He isn’t always kind. The lady was crying. He put his hands to his face. “No, it can’t be,” he muttered as if trying to convince himself. “It can’t be

true.”
Camila had been the ideal woman in the eyes of the world. He had defended that image. He had staked his social and personal life on her side. To admit everyone was right would be to admit he had been blind, and Alejandro Herrera had never allowed himself to make a mistake of that magnitude. Later, he went up to

his mother’s room. He found her asleep, breathing calmly.
Beside her, Lucía was quietly reading a book, gently holding the old woman’s hand. Alejandro paused on the threshold. The scene was simple, but revealing. While the hallways echoed with rumors of abuse and contempt, here, in silence, Lucía restored her mother’s dignity with a

gesture as simple as holding her hand.
Lucía looked up and smiled gently, still holding Mercedes. Alejandro nodded, returning the gesture silently, then slowly closed the door and walked away. As he walked down the hall, the doubt became an unbearable weight. Every word heard in the mansion, every rumor, every

elusive glance from the staff pointed in the same direction, but her pride held her in check.
She couldn’t accept, not yet, that perhaps she had placed her trust in the wrong person. The rumors Alejandro had heard in recent days were beginning to sink in, though he tried to resist. Perhaps because of that, Camila noticed him more distant and decided to act with greater

precision. One afternoon, while Alejandro was reading in the living room, Camila entered holding Doña Mercedes’s hand.
He led her slowly, almost theatrically, as if she were a fragile child who needed to be guided every step of the way. “Isn’t that right, Doña Mercedes?” Camila said, leaning toward the old woman with a smile that was too broad. “Let’s sit here next to your son.” Mercedes looked at her, confused,

but obeyed. Camila arranged her in an armchair and put an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s so sweet to have her with us,” she added, stroking her hair with a gesture that seemed more like a pose than a sincere act. Alejandro looked up from his book. The scene disconcerted him. His fiancée had never shown such tenderness in public with her mother. “Thank you, Camila,” he said in a low voice,

although inside, feeling a strange imbalance, Camila smiled with satisfaction.
Later, when Alejandro left the living room to take a call, Camila’s expression changed in a second. She abruptly removed her arm from Mercedes’s shoulders and stood up impatiently. “How annoying, always looking at me with that blank expression,” he muttered under his breath. Mercedes blinked

in fear. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to bother you. Well, then don’t,” Camila said in a sharp whisper before turning on her heels and leaving the room.
What she didn’t know was that Lucía had entered just at that moment through the side door carrying a tray of tea. She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart pounding, and looked at the anguished expression on Mercedes’s face. She placed the tray on the table, knelt beside her, and stroked her hands.

Calm down, Doña Mercedes, it’s over now. I’m here.
Mercedes looked at her with hollow eyes.

Fears, like a child seeking refuge. From that day on, Lucía made a decision. She had to keep proof. It wasn’t enough to confront Camila in private. If she truly wanted to protect the old woman, she needed clear evidence. She began carrying a small notebook in her

apron pocket. Every time she witnessed a cruel comment or a brusque gesture, she wrote it down in detail. Date, time, exact words.
Some nights, while everyone was asleep, she would write full pages in tight handwriting, describing scenes she couldn’t allow to be forgotten. She also began using her phone discreetly. A couple of times, she managed to record audio from the kitchen when Camila, believing herself alone with Mercedes,

spoke harshly to her.
Meanwhile, Camila intensified her performance in front of Alejandro. One morning, she walked down the hall to the dining room with Mercedes on her arm. She had dressed her in an elegant shawl and placed a flower in her hair. “Look how beautiful your mother looks today,” she said with a radiant smile. “I wanted to dress her up a bit so

she could have breakfast with us.” Alejandro smiled in surprise, though he couldn’t help but notice that Mercedes seemed uncomfortable. “She looks very well, Mom,” he said, stroking her hand. The old woman nodded weakly, not daring to speak. Camila took the opportunity to kiss her forehead and whisper in a tone that only Alejandro could hear.

“She’s a treasure to have with us, love, and she always will be.”
” Alejandro was moved, but the rumors still echoed in the back of his mind. That afternoon in the kitchen, Lucía added another note to the notebook. Camila dressed her and took her to the dining room. In front of Alejandro, she smiled and kissed her. But Mercedes was rigid, with fear in her eyes. She didn’t say a word.

She closed the notebook and carefully put it in her pocket. She knew she was playing a dangerous game.
If someone discovered what she was doing, it could cost her her job. But she also knew that some lives were worth more than any salary. And although the mansion seemed to continue its brilliant routine, a silent clash raged within its walls, growing ever more intense. Camila’s impeccable mask

against the invisible traces she left on Mercedes’s soul.
Lucía saw everything, wrote everything, saved everything, because sooner or later the truth had to come out. The afternoon had turned gray over the mansion. The sky was covered with dense clouds, and the heavy air seemed to foreshadow a storm. Mercedes, in her room, was distractedly flipping through a photo album

that Lucía had left on the table, trying to hold on to faces that were fading from her memory. The door suddenly opened.
Camila entered unannounced, with a firm step and a stern expression. “Doña Mercedes!” she said in a seemingly sweet voice, but with a hidden edge. “You can’t have all this out of order.” She took out the photos again, then they fell, and then no one knew which one belonged to whom. Mercedes blinked in confusion. “They’re

mine.” “Everything in this house belongs to Alejandro,” Camila corrected, snatching the album from her hands. “And you should understand that.”
” The old woman trembled, searching for the words that escaped her. “I don’t want it, I don’t want it taken away from me.” Camila abruptly threw the album back on the desk. “Then behave yourself. No one has time to pick up after you.” Her voice was low, but the tone was enough to trigger

panic. Mercedes began to breathe rapidly, clutching her chest.
“No, no, no,” she suddenly screamed, her eyes wide open. Camila stepped back, startled by the intensity of the reaction. At that moment, Lucía entered with a tea tray. Seeing the scene, she dropped the tray on the dresser and ran to the old woman. “Doña Mercedes,” she exclaimed, kneeling beside

her. “Breathe with me here, calmly.
Look into my eyes. Don’t be scared. I’m with you.” Mercedes wailed, her body shaking with spasms of anxiety. “Do you want to take me out? Do you want to take me out?” she screamed as if the walls were closing in on her. Lucía hugged her tightly, softly humming a tune to calm her. Camila moved away

toward the door, her face tense.
“You’re exaggerating, you’re always exaggerating,” she murmured before rushing out. The commotion reached Alejandro. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding, entered the room, and found the scene. His mother clinging to Lucía’s arm, trembling, and the young woman trying to calm her.

“What happened?” she asked in a firm voice, although her expression was bewildered. Lucía looked up, sweating from the effort of restraining the old woman. “An anxiety attack, sir, but it’ll pass. Leave her with me.” Alejandro knelt on the other side of the bed, stroking his mother’s hair.

“Mom, it’s me. Don’t worry, I’m here.” Mercedes looked at him for a few seconds, but didn’t seem to recognize him. Her eyes were clouded with fear.
Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, she begged, clinging to Lucia more tightly than to her own son. That gesture hurt Alejandro like a

dagger. He looked at Lucia for answers, but she only returned a look filled with urgency and tenderness. She needs to feel safe. Don’t try to reason with her

now, just come with us,” she told him.
He obeyed, although helplessness ate away at him; the minutes seemed eternal. Little by little, with Lucía’s melody and the soft words repeated over and over, Mercedes’s breathing began to stabilize. Her eyelids closed, and exhausted, she fell asleep in the young woman’s arms.

Lucía sighed with relief, stroking her hair until she was sure she was calm.
Alejandro sat silently, his brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on his mother. “Why? Why is this happening?” he finally asked, his voice breaking. Lucía hesitated before answering. Sometimes words can hurt more than anything else. She is very sensitive. When she feels

rejected or threatened, her mind is lost in fear.
Alejandro’s frown deepened. “What do you mean? Did someone make her feel this way?” Lucía looked at him with a silence that spoke volumes. word. He didn’t dare accuse directly, but he couldn’t feign indifference either. Alejandro understood the insinuation and clenched his fists. That night, as

the mansion sank into silence, Alejandro remained in his study, unable to concentrate.
The image of his mother, screaming in despair, haunted him. The way she had clung to Lucía instead of him had marked him more than he cared to admit. He was beginning to feel trapped between two realities: the one Camila showed him with perfect smiles and the one he saw reflected in his mother’s

terrified eyes.
Something was about to break, and he sensed it. The rain fell in thick curtains on the mansion’s windows, darkening the afternoon. Alejandro had finished, ahead of schedule, a meeting that was supposed to extend into the evening. He decided not to announce his return. He wanted to surprise his mother with

an unexpected visit.
The chauffeur dropped him off at the entrance, and he walked down the dimly lit hallway, enjoying himself. For a moment of the strange silence that only rain brings, he climbed the stairs with a determined step, thinking he’d find his mother resting, but when he reached the second-floor hallway, a sound stopped him in his tracks.

It wasn’t music or the voices of employees; it was a harsh, high-pitched tone, laced with rage.
“Enough,” he heard from his mother’s room. Alejandro tensed, moved forward quietly, and as he drew closer, Camila’s voice grew clearer, passing through the half-open door. “I can’t stand this, do you understand?” “You’re a nuisance.” She said with a harshness she’d never used in front of him.

Alejandro froze, his heart pounding.
He pushed the door open just enough to see, and the scene before his eyes chilled him. Camila was standing next to the bed, her arms akimbo, her face tense. Doña Mercedes, huddled under the blankets, was sobbing with trembling hands. “You’re annoying every second,” Camila continued,

leaning toward the old woman.
“If it were up to me, you’d already be in a facility where no one would have to put up with you.” Mercedes tried to cover herself with the blanket, murmuring through tears. “I don’t want to be a nuisance, I don’t.” Alejandro felt a lump in his throat. Every word fell like a whip on his mother. He slammed the door open.

Camila. She turned around immediately. Her face was still distorted with rage, but as soon as she saw him, she tried to compose herself.
I’ll go, love, it’s not what it seems. She stammered, her voice thick with nerves. Alejandro walked to the bed, ignoring her. He knelt beside his mother, taking her hands. “Mom, calm down, I’m here,” he whispered, stroking her hair. Mercedes looked at him with tears in her eyes, like a helpless child

who has finally found refuge.
Alejandro looked up at Camila. His eyes were like two glowing embers. “Is this what you do when I’m not here?” he asked in a low, contained, dangerous voice. Camila reached out to him, pleading. “No, you don’t understand. She drives me crazy, Ale. You don’t know how difficult it is. I just

want to help you. I want to help you.
Help me,” he repeated with icy disbelief. Thus, humiliating my mother, Camila took a step toward him, whimpering. “I’m doing this for us,” she said, her voice breaking. “You don’t know the pressure I feel, how exhausting it is. I love you, Alejandro.” Everything I do is out of love. Enough, his voice thundered

against the walls.
Mercedes shuddered, gripping her son’s hand tighter. Alejandro stood up, his face hard. “I opened the doors of my house to you. I trusted you, and this is what you do.” Camila tried to approach, but he raised his hand in a gesture that stopped her in her tracks. “Don’t ever come near

my mother again.” The silence that followed was so thick that the rain against the windows sounded like thunder.
Camila blinked, her makeup running because of the fake tears that were now welling up in her eyes.

s. Alejandro, no, I love you. Don’t do this to me. But he didn’t respond. He turned to his mother, who was still sobbing, and knelt down beside her again. Everything’s okay, Mom. It’s over now. No one

will ever treat you like that again. I promise. Camila stepped back to the door, defeated, not knowing whether to insist or leave.
Alejandro didn’t even look at her. The sound of rain filled the room like a final curtain. For the first time, there was no doubt left. The echo of the storm could still be felt in the mansion’s windows. Although the rain had subsided, the hallways were permeated with that scent of dampness and wet

earth that drifted in from the garden.
Alejandro left his mother’s room, his heart still pounding. She was finally sleeping peacefully, clinging to Lucía’s hand, but the memory of what he had seen minutes before consumed him like fire beneath his skin. When he opened the hallway door, Camila was there. She waited for him, leaning

against the stair railing, her eyes red and her makeup smeared.
Seeing him, she stood up and walked toward him with unsteady steps. “Alejandro,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “Please, you have to listen to me.” He stopped a few feet away without moving. “I saw what I needed to see,” he replied in a grave tone, harsher than he had intended.

Camila raised her hands as if to touch him, but Alejandro took a step back.
The plea in his eyes mingled with the desperation of someone who knows they’re losing control. “Don’t reject me like that,” she exclaimed. “Everything I do is for you, don’t you understand?” For us.” Alejandro clenched his fists. His voice came out muted, filled with suppressed rage. For us, do you

really call that love? You humiliated my mother, Camila.
You made her feel like she was a nuisance in her own home. Do you know what it means to see her like this? Camila trembled, but instead of backing down, she hardened her gaze. “Your mother is a burden, Alejandro,” she suddenly spat with brutal coldness. She has been from the beginning, and everyone knows it. The silence

fell like a blow. Alejandro felt his breath cut out.
“Be careful what you say,” she murmured in a dangerous voice. But she continued, now liberated as if the masks had fallen completely. “You are a respected, powerful man, with a bright future. And what are you doing locked up in this mansion, wasting your life with a woman who doesn’t even

recognize you? I was the only one with the courage to tell you.” Alejandro closed his eyes for a second.
When she opened them, the decision had already been made. That woman you’re talking about is my mother. Her voice was a cutting edge. And if you can’t understand that, you should never have been in my life. Camila laughed bitterly, a short, broken laugh. You’re naive, Alejandro. I thought you were stronger. I thought you’d see beyond

the weakness.

He walked toward her slowly, without looking away. Don’t mistake compassion for weakness. What makes me strong is defending her from people like you. Camila’s expression changed. The plea turned into pure arrogance. And what will society say when they find out? she asked with a poisonous gleam

in her eyes. Everyone knows about our engagement. If you break it now, you’ll become a laughingstock.

I’d rather be the laughingstock, he replied firmly, than be a man who allowed his mother to be mistreated in her own home. Camila took a step back, her pride wounded. Are you going to humiliate me like this? Her voice cracked with rage. I’ve invested everything in this relationship, in building an image by

your side, and you pay me back with this.
Alejandro shook his head slowly. It’s not about image, Camila, it’s about truth. And the truth is, our relationship is over. The commitment ends here. The words echoed in the hallway like a final verdict. For a moment, Camila remained silent, looking at him as if she could still

reverse it, but then her face changed again.
There were no more tears, no pleading, no sweetness. Only the cold, calculating, and vengeful gaze she had kept hidden for too long remained. “You’re going to regret it, Alejandro Herrera,” she whispered with a venom that permeated the air. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” He held her gaze without

blinking. Don’t threaten me.
His voice was icy. You have no power here anymore. This house is no longer yours. Camila breathed raggedly, her lips pursed. Finally, she turned on her heels and stomped down the stairs, each click of her heels echoing like a final breakup.

Alejandro stood alone in the hallway, feeling the emptiness left by the confrontation. His chest burned with rage and pain, but also with a new certainty. The decision had been made. The relationship had collapsed forever. The day had passed slowly in the mansion. After the

storm and the accumulated tension, the atmosphere felt strange, as if the walls themselves had absorbed the silence of those who lived within them.
In Doña Mercedes’s room, the curtains swayed.

The air blew gently in the afternoon wind. The scent of the band permeated the air thanks to a small sachet Lucía had hung near the window. The old woman sat in her favorite armchair with a shawl over her shoulders, her gaze

fixed on the garden.
She looked patient as always, brushing her hair, doing it with slow gestures, with the delicacy of someone who knows that this act, however simple, could become a refuge. “Do you like how it looks like this, Doña Mercedes?” she asked, showing a small mirror with a smile.

Mercedes looked at herself strangely, as if she didn’t quite recognize herself, but then she nodded slowly. “My mother used to comb my hair like this,” she said in a faint voice.
Lucía choked back the emotion. She had learned that these small windows to memories were fleeting treasures to be held with one’s whole soul. At that moment, Alejandro entered silently. He had spent the whole day restless, with thoughts he couldn’t sort out, but

he needed to see her. He needed to be there. The scene stopped him.
His mother, her hair tied back, more serene than usual, stood beside him, radiating calm. “Mr. Alejandro,” Lucía said when she saw him bowing his head slightly. “You’re much calmer today than yesterday.” He approached slowly, kneeling in front of the old woman. He took her hands in

his, feeling the faint but real warmth of her skin. “Mom, how are you feeling?” he asked softly.
Mercedes looked at him. Her eyes, so often dull, had a different glow, as if the fog of illness had lifted for a moment. “Alejandro,” she said clearly, enunciating each syllable with effort. He swallowed. “I’m here, Mom.” She squeezed his hands with a strength she didn’t

usually have.
Then she turned her head toward Lucía, who remained standing expectantly. She took a deep breath, as if she had to summon all the energy in her life to say what she was about to say. Take care of her, Alejandro. Her voice broke, but she laughed. Because when I no longer remember you, she will be the one who

reminds me of who I was. Time seemed to stand still. Alejandro felt a shudder run through his body.
The phrase hit him with the force of a revelation. “Mom,” he murmured, tears welling in his eyes. “Please don’t say that.” Mercedes looked at him tenderly, a smile barely visible on her face. “Don’t cry, son. She will help you remember me.”

Lucia, her eyes moist, knelt down as well, placing a hand on the old woman’s. She didn’t speak. She understood that this moment didn’t need words, only presence. Alejandro rested his forehead in his mother’s hands, unable to hold back his tears. “I promise you, Mom. You will never lack respect

or affection, never.” Mercedes sighed deeply, as if those words had lifted a weight.

She closed her eyes and let herself rest, but still with a serene expression on her face. That night, none of the three wanted to break the cycle. Lucía remained by the bed with the music box in her lap. When she turned it, the melody filled the room with a nostalgic sweetness.

Mercedes murmured fragments of the song, threadbare in her sleep.
Lucía accompanied her with a soft hum, and Alejandro, sitting to the side, simply listened, his face wet with tears. Each note seemed to be etched in his memory along with the phrase his mother had uttered, “When I no longer remember you, she will be the one who reminds me of who I was.” It was a truth

that was both painful and luminous.
In that room, under the dim lamplight, Alejandro understood that those words would become the compass for everything that would come later. The mansion dawned different. After the final tremors, it seemed that even the walls breathed calmly, as if silence had fallen to

protect what was happening inside.
There were no brusque commands, no echoing heels in the hallways, no veiled arguments in the kitchen, only the serenity of a house that was slowly returning to its true inhabitants. In the main room, Doña Mercedes was still sleeping, her face peaceful. The sun

filtered timidly through the curtains and bathed the shawl covering her shoulders in golden light.
Alejandro sat on the side of the bed, vigilant, as if afraid that if he looked away, something might break. In front of him, Lucía rested in a chair. She had spent the entire night in the room, not wanting to move. Sleep had overcome her only momentarily, always with the

music box on her lap, like an amulet, her eyelids drooping, her posture hunched, her hands still close to the old woman’s. Everything about her conveyed a silent devotion.
Alejandro watched her for a long time. He had never looked at Lucía that way, never with that mixture of gratitude and revelation. She had been invisible to him for too long, as if she were a necessary shadow in the house, until

He understood that it was his mother clinging to that shadow so as not to

get completely lost.
With an instinctive gesture, he stood up, took a light blanket, and placed it on Lucía’s shoulders. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise. “Sorry,” she whispered, settling in. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Alejandro smiled softly. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve done more than anyone.”

Lucía lowered her gaze, uncomfortable with the compliment. “I’m just doing my job.” He slowly shook his head.

No, Lucía, it’s not just your job, it’s much more. A couple of hours later, Mercedes woke up. Her breathing was calm, and for a moment she seemed to recognize her son’s presence. Alejandro leaned over, gently taking her hand. “Mom,” he said in a low, trembling voice, “I need you to

listen to me.” She stared at him with a glimmer of lucidity that rarely appeared. “Tell me, son.” Alejandro swallowed, pressing the wrinkled hand against his own. “I promise you’ll never be in the wrong hands again. I swear.” Mercedes’s eyes moistened, and a sigh escaped her lips. “That’s enough for me,

Alejandro. That’s enough for me.” He closed his eyes, holding back his tears. “And I also want to acknowledge something.”
He continued, turning to Lucía. “This woman isn’t just your caregiver, Mom. She’s the one who has protected you more loyally than anyone.” Lucía, surprised, blinked and shook her head. “Don’t say that, Mr. Alejandro. I’m not the only one,” he interrupted firmly, although his voice was thick with emotion. “You’re not

just an employee.
You’ve been my mother’s refuge when I wasn’t looking. You’re a part of her, and now you’re a part of me too.” Lucía fell silent. Tears began to well up, though she tried to hide them by bowing her head. Alejandro moved closer and took her hand, placing it next to his mother’s. “Thank you,” he said

in a hoarse voice. “You have no idea what I’ve done.” It means what you’ve done.
Mercedes, still conscious of the moment, clasped both hands together, uniting her son and Lucía in that gesture. “That’s how it should be,” she murmured tenderly. United. The rest of the day became a silent truce. Alejandro ordered that no one disturb his mother, that there be no visitors or

interruptions. The mansion, accustomed to parties and receptions, was reduced to its essentials.
Three people in one room sharing the burden of illness and the comfort of company. In the afternoon, Mercedes was taken to the inner garden. They sat her in a comfortable armchair, covered with a blanket. The fresh air cheered her, and her eyes lit up as she heard the birds singing.

Lucía sat to one side holding the music box, turned it gently, and let the melody fill the space. Mercedes smiled weakly, murmuring under her breath the words of a song she had once memorized. Alejandro, sitting across from them, watched them with a heavy heart.

He understood then that the promise What he had made wasn’t just an oath to his mother, but also to Lucía: to take care of her, to protect what she represented, to recognize her as the pillar that kept the most precious thing in his life safe. When he took both of their hands and held them intertwined, he closed his

eyes. “This will never be broken,” he said in a clear voice. It was more than a commitment, it was an eternal promise.
The mansion had regained a calm that seemed unknown. There were no receptions or forced voices roaming the halls. The air was different, lighter, though still impregnated with the recent traces of the storm. Alejandro walked through the library in Soledad. The shelves

filled with books, inherited from his father, watched him like silent judges.
He had a glass of wine and sat in front of the window. Outside, the afternoon was slowly falling over the gardens. His mind couldn’t get away from the same question. How could I not have seen it before? Camila had been the perfect woman in everyone’s eyes, elegant, brilliant, always smiling in public.

And he, Alejandro Herrera, had convinced himself that this image was enough, that the radiance of appearances could sustain an entire life. Now, looking back, he felt angry with himself. He had defended that illusion with such pride that he hadn’t heard the most important thing. His mother’s gestures, her inexplicable fears, Lucía’s heavy silences, he gently banged his closed fist on the table.
“I was blind,” he murmured with a pain he didn’t try to hide. That night, as he passed his mother’s room, he found Lucía coming out with a folded blanket in her arms. “Is she asleep yet?” Alejandro asked. Lucía nodded. “Yes, calm. She was serene today.” The music helped a lot. He

smiled slightly, but his expression was still marked by melancholy. “Can I accompany you to the garden for a moment?” he said suddenly.
Lucía hesitated, but nodded. The night air was fresh and heavy with the scent of jasmine. They walked in silence to a stone bench under the trees. Alejandro sat down first. Lucia at his side