PART 1
“Sir, don’t make noise… If your wife hears you, your daughter won’t leave this house alive.”
Alejandro Mondragón froze at the service entrance of his own mansion, with a bouquet of white roses in his hand and his heart beating as if it wanted to come out of his chest.
Nobody knew he was back.
He was supposedly still in Madrid, closing the biggest hotel deal of his life. Renata, his wife, had sent him sweet messages during the week. Photos of drinks, elegant dinners, of his daughter Valentina smiling barely in front of the camera. But something in that smile had hurt him.
So he changed his flight without warning.
He landed in Mexico City, took a regular taxi from the airport and, before reaching Lomas de Chapultepec, passed by a flower shop in Polanco. He bought the same white roses that he had given to Renata when he proposed to her.
He came to apologize for so many trips, so many absences, so many times that he believed that paying for schools, drivers and vacations was the same as being present.
But as he approached his house he noticed something strange.
There was music.
Luxury cars filled the entrance.
Laughter, clashing glasses, elegant voices could be heard. A party. At home. A party that no one had mentioned to him because everyone thought he was on the other side of the world.
Alejandro asked to be dropped off a block early. She walked slowly, entered through the service door and as soon as she crossed the kitchen, Maricela, the employee who had been working with them for years, dropped a tray. The glasses broke against the marble floor.
—Maricela, it’s me —he whispered.
But she ran towards him and covered his mouth with her hand.
—Shut up, sir. Please. You have to see something before I go down to the living room.
Alejandro felt his blood get cold.
Maricela took him up the service staircase, away from the music and the expensive perfume of the guests. The second floor was dark. Too quiet for a house full of people.
They stopped in front of Valentina’s room.
The door was ajar.
—Don’t come in yet —Maricela said with tears in her eyes—. Look first.
Alejandro barely pushed the door.
And the world broke.
Sixteen-year-old Valentina was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, crying quietly. Around him were two open suitcases, clothes folded in a hurry, his school backpack, his passport and an envelope with money.
On the bed was a letter with Alejandro’s name written on the front.
Valentina was wearing a long-sleeved sweater even though it was hot. His face was swollen from crying so much. In her hand she held an old photo where Alejandro carried it when she was a child.
The roses slipped from her fingers.
—My daughter… why are you packing?
Maricela swallowed.
—Because tonight they were going to take her away, sir.
—Who?
From below you could hear Renata’s laugh, brilliant, perfect, cruel.
Maricela responded almost without a voice:
—His wife.
Alejandro looked at Valentina again. She took the letter from the bed and hugged it to her chest, as if it were the only thing she had left.
And then Alejandro understood that he had not returned to surprise his family.
He had returned just before losing her forever.
What I was about to discover in that letter was something no parent could imagine without feeling ashamed of having arrived so late…
Alejandro opened the door.
—Valentina.
His daughter raised her face and stood still, as if she were seeing a ghost. Then she backed away scared, hitting a suitcase with her foot.
—Dad?
—It’s me.
Valentina looked down.
Maricela answered from the door:
—Mrs. Renata.
Alejandro felt something dark rise up his chest.
He took the letter from the bed.
—Can I read it?
Valentina nodded.
The trembling lyrics said:
Dad, sorry for leaving like this. I tried to talk to you many times, but mom says you won’t believe me. He says I’m dramatic, unstable and ungrateful. He says if I talk, everyone will think I’m a rich girl making up problems. Don’t blame Maricela. She was the only one who gave me food when mom closed the kitchen to punish me.
Alejandro had to stop.
He continued reading.
Today they are going to send me to a place in Cuernavaca. Mom says that there they correct the girls who embarrass their families. He also wants me to sign some papers. She says if I don’t sign, they’ll make me think I’m sick.
—What papers? —Alejandro asked.
Valentina hugged herself.
—Those of my trust.
Alejandro looked up.
The trust that her father had left for Valentina at birth contained shares, land and voting rights within the hotel group. He was untouchable until he came of age.
Or so I thought.
Maricela took an old cell phone out of her apron.
—I have recordings, sir. I did not know what to do. I was afraid. But when I heard they were going to take her tonight, I recorded everything.
—What’s going on downstairs? —Alejandro asked.
Valentina pursed her lips.
—Mom is going to announce my engagement.
Silence fell like a stone.
—You what?
—With Nicolás Beltrán.
Alejandro knew that last name. Javier Beltrán, Nicolás’s father, was a powerful investor, involved in construction, politics and shady favors. Alexander had refused to make a deeper alliance with him before traveling.
Renata, apparently not.
—He is twenty-three years old —Alejandro said.
—Mom said it was symbolic —Valentina whispered—. That this way the Beltrán family would protect my future. But my actions also appear on paper.
Alexander stood up.
For the first time, his wealth seemed like a weapon pointed at his daughter.
He called Hector, his head of security, but not the house team. Then he called Sara Villalobos, his trusted lawyer.
—Sara, I need you to come right now. My wife is trying to take my daughter’s trust and send her to a clinic tonight.
Sara’s voice changed immediately.
—Don’t let anyone come out with documents.
Alexander hung up.
He took the crushed roses from the ground and looked at Valentina.
—You’re not going to sign anything. You’re not going to marry anyone. And no one will call you crazy again for refusing to be sold.
Applause erupted below.
Valentina turned white.
—It already started.
Alejandro took a deep breath.
—Then I start too.
He went down the service staircase. In the living room, Renata was beautiful in a silver dress, raising a glass with Javier Beltrán and Nicolás. On a table, lawyer Damián arranged documents.
One of the guests saw Alejandro.
The music stopped.
Renata turned. The color left his face.
—Alexander…
He lifted the destroyed roses.
—Surprise.
No one knew yet that the party had just turned into a trial…
PART 3
Renata walked towards Alejandro with her photography smile.
—You should have warned. We would have prepared something.
—I see you prepared enough.
Alejandro took one of the documents from the table. There was Valentina’s name, her trust number, clauses on “emotional instability” and temporary transfer of rights.
—He is sixteen years old —he said.
Renata hardened her gaze.
—And he behaves like a threat to this family.
—No. You turned her into one.
The hall murmured.
Javier Beltrán tried to intervene.
—Alejandro, you are upset. Let’s talk in private.
—No. There were already too many private things in this house.
Nicolás laughed.
—Your daughter is very dramatic, Mr. Mondragón.
Alexander turned slowly.
—Talk about my daughter again and your last name does not enter any council, bank or project where I have a voice.
Nicolás swallowed.
At that moment Héctor entered with two security men. Behind appeared Sara Villalobos, soaked by the rain, with a briefcase in her hand and fury in her eyes.
He reviewed the documents.
—This attempts to trigger a mental evaluation of a minor without full consent. It is illegal and predatory.
Renata raised her voice.
—I was just protecting my family!
Then Valentina appeared on the stairs, pale but standing. Maricela was after her.
—Valentina, go back to your room —Renata ordered.
—No.
It was a small word, but it made the room shake.
Valentina went down slowly.
—You told me that dad would choose the company over me. You told me that if I didn’t sign, you would send me to a place where no one would hear my tantrums. You told me that girls like me correct themselves before destroying their families.
Renata squeezed the glass until it almost broke.
—You are ungrateful.
