We went inside together. The marble in the entryway gleamed under the enormous chandelier. Everything smelled of fresh flowers and furniture polish. The perfect house. The perfect family. The perfect lie.
Claudia, the housekeeper, was the first to see us. She was a woman in her sixties, her hair always pulled back in a tight bun, wearing an immaculate apron, and with a strange habit: she never raised her voice, yet she saw everything.
She looked at Mateo. Then she looked at me.
She didn’t ask silly questions.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
“I need to see Mr. Alejandro. Now.”
Claudia glanced down at the way Mateo slumped when he stood. His expression changed slightly, but it changed.
“He’s in the office with Miss Valeria.”
I felt a pulse in my throat.
“Then all the better.”
Claudia understood instantly that I was serious.
“I’ll take the boy if necessary.”
“No,” I said. “She has to be with me.”
Mateo gripped my jacket sleeve with two fingers. A small gesture. Almost invisible.
But it felt as if he had placed his entire life in my hands.
We walked up the long hallway on the first floor. Each footstep was too loud on the polished floor. In front of the office door, I paused for a second.
Inside, I could hear two voices.
Alejandro’s, calm. Valeria’s, soft, almost musical.
I wanted to break down the door.
I knocked once and entered without waiting for an answer.
Alejandro looked up, annoyed.
“Rafael, what does this mean?”
Valeria was by the bar, a glass in her hand. Perfect. Serene. As if the whole world were a room made just for her.
“Mateo came home hurt,” I said.
Valeria didn’t even blink.
“He fell at school,” she replied before I could continue.
She lied with monstrous ease.
Alejandro frowned and looked at his son.
“Did you fall?”
Mateo lowered his head instantly.
