Chapter 2 - The Softness of Healing
Inside the bright, warm kitchen, the smell of jasmine tea and lemon cakes filled the air. Mrs. Gomez, the elderly housekeeper who had served the family for over a decade, sat on a wooden stool beside Isabella, gently applying soothing medicinal cream to the raw, blistered palms of the little girl.
Isabella flinched slightly, biting her lower lip, but she didn't cry.
Alejandro walked into the kitchen, his heavy coat discarded over a chair. He stopped at the threshold, his throat tightening at the sight of his daughter’s injured hands. He crossed the room slowly, kneeling beside Isabella’s chair so his eyes were level with hers.
“Does it still sting, sweetheart?” Alejandro asked softly.
Isabella nodded once, her large, dark eyes looking up at him with a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. “A little, Dad. But Mrs. Gomez gave me peppermint tea.”
“Good,” Alejandro said, gently taking one of her small, bandaged hands in his own, making sure not to apply any pressure. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Isabella. Valerie is gone. She is never coming back into this house. Ever.”
Isabella froze. She glanced nervously toward the hallway, as if expecting the white silk robe to appear and punish her for hearing those words.
“Is she really gone?” Isabella whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Really, truly gone,” Alejandro promised, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “You will never have to carry those bags again. You will never have to hide in your room or be afraid in your own home. Do you understand?”
A tiny, hesitant sigh escaped the little girl’s chest. The rigid tension in her shoulders finally melted away, and for the first time in three months, Alejandro saw a genuine, relaxed smile touch her lips.
“Can we bake chocolate cookies tomorrow?” Isabella asked quietly.
“We can bake as many cookies as you want,” Alejandro said, a thick knot forming in his throat as he pulled her into a gentle, protective embrace.
Mrs. Gomez wiped a stray tear from her own cheek with the edge of her apron, offering Alejandro an approving nod.
“She needs rest, Mr. Rivers,” the housekeeper said softly. “The stress and the fever from the garden... it took a heavy toll on her. I’ll prepare the pink guest bedroom upstairs. The one with the balcony.”
“No,” Alejandro said, standing up while keeping his hand on Isabella’s shoulder. “She stays in my suite tonight. On the pull-out sofa. I want to be right there when she wakes up.”
As Mrs. Gomez went to fetch extra blankets, Alejandro carried Isabella up the wide staircase. The house no longer felt cold or sterile. With every step, it felt like they were reclaiming a space that had been temporarily stolen by a parasite.
By nine o'clock, Isabella was fast asleep, her breathing deep, steady, and peaceful.
Alejandro sat in the armchair beside the bed, staring out the window at the dark Mediterranean sea. The crisis with Beatriz was handled legally and swiftly, but as he looked down at his daughter’s bandaged hands, a cold realization settled into his bones.
He had been too trusting. He had allowed his work to blind him to what was happening under his own roof.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing a number he hadn't used in personal matters for years.
“Mateo,” Alejandro said when the line picked up.
“Boss. I dropped her off at the gate with her bags like you asked. She tried to call a taxi, but I made sure local transport knew not to pick her up within three miles of the estate. She’s walking toward the town center.”
“Good,” Alejandro said coldly. “Now I want you to dig deeper. I want a complete forensic audit of every bank account, property deed, and communication log Beatriz touched since the day we married. Find out who she was talking to, where her personal funds went, and whether anyone else helped her orchestrate this.”
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“Consider it done,” Mateo replied. “I’ll have a full report on your desk by dawn.”
Alejandro hung up and placed the phone on the nightstand. He didn't know it yet, but Beatriz’s cruelty was only a symptom of a much larger, darker web that connected back to his corporate rivals in Madrid. And the audit Mateo was about to run would uncover a secret far more dangerous than a disgruntled stepmother.
