A millionaire found his employee breastfeeding his baby and made a decision that no one expected.

Camila.

Alejandro Mendoza’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Her Italian shoes stopped on the polished marble of her penthouse in the Zona Rosa and the leather briefcase fell from her right hand.

Camila Vázquez looked up from the beige velvet armchair, her dark eyes filled with pure panic.

In her arms, wrapped in a pink blanket, a newborn baby was calmly breastfeeding.

The yellow cleaning gloves still hung from Camila’s wrists, contrasting with the tenderness of the moment.

“Mr. Mendoza, I didn’t expect you to return from Sao Paulo so soon.

“He stuttered instinctively, hugging the girl tighter.”

Alejandro remained still.

By age 34, he had built an import empire from scratch, transforming his family’s coffee-growing connections in Chiapas into a multinational business.

She had negotiated with ruthless executives, navigated financial crises, and survived two divorces.

But this left him speechless.

“You have a baby,” she finally said.

It wasn’t a question.

Her name is Isabela.

“She’s three weeks old,” Camila replied, lifting her chin with that quiet dignity he had admired in her during the two years he had been working in her house.

The apartment, normally spotless and museum-like, now had a diaper bag next to the glass coffee table.

A portable crib rested discreetly in the corner.

almost hidden behind the grand piano that Alejandro never played.

Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? Camila closed her eyes for a moment, as if she were gathering her strength.

Upon opening them, Alejandro saw years of weariness, of responsibilities weighing on shoulders that were too young.

Because I need this job, sir.

My family in Oaxaca depends on what I send them.

My father can no longer work the corn like he used to, and my mother’s diabetes medication costs more each month.

The brutal honesty of her words impressed him.

For two years, Camila kept her house running like clockwork.

He arrived at 6 in the morning and left at 6 in the evening.

She would prepare his favorite meals without him even asking.

He knew exactly how to iron shirts.

She kept the plants alive in an apartment where everything was dying and knew nothing about her real life.

Domestic workers are entitled to maternity leave.

-He said slowly, vaguely recalling some article he had read.

Camila let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

Excuse me, sir.

I work on a daily basis.

I don’t have a formal contract.

I don’t have insurance.

If I leave for 18 weeks, when I return there will be another girl cleaning his house.

Reality hit her like a slap in the face.

Alejandro had assumed that everything was fine because he was paid well, better than average.

He had never stopped to think about the legal details, about the real security it offered or did not offer.

And the father asked, feeling as if he were walking through a minefield.

Ricardo Sandoval disappeared upon learning of the pregnancy.

He said it wasn’t his problem.

Isabela moved in her mother’s arms, making small sounds.

Camila arranged it with expert movements, beginning to hum a song that Alejandro did not recognize, probably a Zapotec song that she had learned from her grandmother.

Alejandro’s phone vibrated.

A message from his lawyer.

Immigration audit scheduled for domestic workers next week.

I hope everything is in order.

The moment was cruel or perfect depending on how you look at it.

Camila said slowly, we need to talk.

She nodded, bracing herself for the worst.

I had experienced this scene before in other houses with other families.

The moment when reality became too complicated, too human for the comfort of the bosses.

“I can work with her,” he was quick to say.

I brought the portable crib.

She sleeps most of the day and I can feed her during my breaks.

It won’t be a bother, I promise.

Alejandro watched her.

26 years old, single mother, supporting an entire family with household chores, facing the possible loss of everything with a tranquility she had never had, not even in her worst business crises.

“I don’t use the guest rooms,” he said suddenly.

You and Isabela can stay there.

Camila’s eyes opened.

Sir, I couldn’t, it would be impossible.

“It’s not an imposition,” she interrupted.

It’s practical.

You wouldn’t have to travel every day from Shochimilko and Isabela would be safe.

What neither of them admitted out loud was that this agreement would change everything between them.

In his world of contracts and negotiations, Alejandro knew how to recognize a turning point when he saw it, and this was definitely one.

Chapter 2.

New arrangements.

The next morning, Alejandro found Camila in the kitchen making coffee while Isabel slept in her baby carrier on the granite countertop.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the large windows, creating a strangely domestic atmosphere in a space that until then seemed more like a hotel suite than a house.

“Mr. Mendoza,” Camila began without looking up from the coffee maker.

“I’ve been thinking about your offer.

You are very generous, but I need you to understand my situation.

Alejandro sat on one of the high benches studying the woman who had worked for him for two years without really knowing her.

He had spent the night researching labor laws for domestic workers, and what he found left him unsettled.

Explain your real situation to me, Camila, without worrying about my reaction.

She poured the coffee into two cups, with precise movements, despite the visible tiredness in her eyes.

I work informally, like most of us, without a contract, without benefits, without social security.

When Isabela was born, she was not entitled to maternity leave because officially she did not exist in the system.

I went back to work after two weeks because I had no other choice.

Two weeks.

Alejandro felt something akin to shame.

Who was Isabela with? My neighbor from Shochimilco.

Doña Carmen takes care of several babies of mothers who work with us.

I pay him almost half of what I earn.

Reality hit Alejandro like a punch.

While he was preoccupied with profit margins and market expansion, Camila had been navigating a system that kept her invisible and vulnerable.

“If I agree to stay in the guest rooms,” Camila continued, “I need you to know that it’s not charity I’m looking for.”

I can afford a fairly reasonable rent and I want to formalize my employment.

Contract, benefits, everything legal.

“Why is formality important to you?” Camila looked at him directly for the first time that morning.

Because if something happens to me, Isabela needs to have rights, she needs to exist in the system.

And because he hesitated for a moment, because Ricardo can return.

Isabela’s father, yes, did not acknowledge Isabela when she was born, he did not sign the birth certificate, but if he finds out that my situation has improved, he could try to claim paternity rights to take advantage of it.

Alejandro frowned.

His knowledge of family law was limited, but he understood the implications.

He has legal rights over Isabela in Mexico.

If a father does not voluntarily acknowledge his child, he must go through a legal process to establish paternity.

It’s complicated and expensive, but if he wanted to, he’d just shrug it off.

Men always have more credibility in family courts.

Isabela began to move around in her carrier, making small hunger sounds.

Camila picked it up naturally, starting the process of preparing her meal.

“Do you need privacy?” asked Alejandro, suddenly feeling out of place in his own kitchen.

It’s not necessary, sir.

Isabela eats every 3 hours.

If I’m going to live here temporarily, you’ll have to get used to it.

While Camila was feeding Isabela, Alejandro observed how easily she had transformed her minimalist space into something functional for a baby.

As if by magic, a small basket appeared with diapers and wipes.

A baby bottle was being heated in a small pot that he didn’t know he had.

“How do you do it?” he finally asked.

“Do what?” Everything.

Work? Take care of Isabela and support your family? All at the same time.

Camila smiled for the first time since she had discovered her the day before.

There is no choice, sir.

When you don’t have a safety net, you learn to juggle.

My sisters help me take care of my parents in Oaxaca.

I send money from Isabela, Mexico.

She is entirely my responsibility.

And if I offered you that safety net—a formal contract, a fixed salary, and legal benefits—what would change? Everything.

He answered without hesitation.

Isabela could have health insurance.

I could save for emergencies instead of living day to day.

I could start studying at night, maybe finish high school.

It was the first time I heard her talk about her own dreams, beyond mere survival.

What would you like to study? Childcare.

I’ve always been good with children and there are jobs in private nurseries, but I need a certification.

Alejandro nodded slowly.

The plan that had been brewing all night was beginning to take a clearer shape.

Camila, today I’m going to make some calls to my labor lawyer specializing in accounting.

We will formalize your employment retroactively as if you had always had a contract.

And the guest rooms are not rented out, they are part of the benefits package.

Many companies offer accommodation.

Mr. Mendoza.

Alejandro, if we’re going to be roommates, even if it’s just temporarily, I think we can be less formal.

Camila studied it carefully, as if evaluating whether she could trust this new dynamic.

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? Alejandro considered the question.

There were 1000 responses.

Guilt, convenience, the fact that Isabela had made her apartment feel like home for the first time in years.

But I chose the simplest truth, because I can and because it is the right thing to do.

For the first time since he met her, Camila Vázquez smiled at Alejandro Mendoza as if she were still the same person.

Chapter 3.

Crossing borders.

Two months later, the lines between employer and employee had begun to blur in ways that neither of them had anticipated.

Alejandro found himself arriving home early on Fridays, not because of pending work, but because he had grown accustomed to the sound of Isabela’s laughter echoing through the apartment.

“I’m here,” he announced, hanging his jacket in the hallway closet.

—We’re in the kitchen —Camila replied from the back of the apartment.

He found her preparing red pozole; the aroma of guajillo chili filled the entire space.

Isabela, now almost three months old, was in her rocking chair on the bar, following her mother’s every move with alert eyes.

“Posole on Friday?” asked Alejandro, approaching Isabela to greet her, who gave him a toothless smile.

“What are we celebrating?” “The contract arrived today,” Camila replied, unable to hide the satisfaction in her voice.

Official, signed, registered in the IMS.

Isabela and I already exist legally.

Alejandro had worked with his labor lawyer to create a contract that complied with all Mexican regulations.

Above the minimum wage, full benefits, 8-hour workday with two days off.

But most importantly, Camila now had the right to IMS childcare for Isabela, health insurance, and a retirement fund.

“And what’s it like being a formal employee?” he asked, sitting down next to Isabela, different, confident, as if he could finally plan beyond the next two weeks.

There were more subtle changes.

Alejandro had installed better lighting in the guest rooms, which now functioned as a small independent apartment.

During his business trips, he had started bringing back special formula for Isabela, better quality diapers, and age-appropriate toys.

Camila, for her part, had begun to cook Oaxacan dishes on Sundays, filling the apartment with aromas that connected her to memories of her childhood in Chiapas.

It wasn’t part of their job duties, but it had become a silent tradition among them.

“How’s school going?” asked Alejandro.

Three weeks ago, Camila had started online night classes to finish high school.

He would study after Isabela went to sleep, sometimes until very late.

Well, difficult, but good.

Math is more difficult for me, but social science subjects are easy.

If you need help with math, thanks, but I already have someone who can help me.

My classmate, Sofia, is very good at explaining.

We connect via video call on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Alejandro felt a strange pang upon learning that Camila had built a support network that did not include him.

It was irrational, I knew it.

But the feeling was there.

Isabel started making noises demanding attention.

Alejandro helped her up from the chair, surprised once again by how natural that gesture had become.

“She’s getting heavier and heavier,” he remarked, lifting her up and putting her on his shoulder.

3 and a half years old at his last appointment with the pediatrician.

perfectly healthy

When was that appointment? Last Tuesday.

I got an appointment at the IMS clinic in the afternoon.

Alejandro frowned.

He had been in the office on Tuesday, but he could have accompanied them if they had asked him to.

Let me know next time.

I can take them in the car.

It’s more convenient than public transport.

Camila looked at him with an unreadable expression.

I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.

It’s not abuse.

Somos paused, searching for the right word.

We’re a team now, right? Before Camila could answer, Isabela started to cry.

It is not the usual cry of hunger or sleep, but something more urgent, more anguished.

“It’s very hot,” Alejandro said immediately, feeling the baby’s temperature against his chest.

Camila dropped the wooden spoon and quickly reached out to touch Isabela’s forehead.

has a high fever

Within minutes they had packed a suitcase and were in Alejandro’s car heading to Hospital Ángeles del Pedregal.

Camila had suggested going to the IMS, but Alejandro had insisted on his private hospital.

“They’ll have to wait for hours at the IMS on a Friday night,” he argued while driving.

Isabella needs immediate attention.

At the private hospital, the Mendoza surname opened doors for him instantly.

A pediatrician saw them in less than 10 minutes.

Isabella was thoroughly examined and the lab results arrived in half an hour.

It is a mild viral infection, the doctor explained.

Very common in babies your age.

With medication and plenty of fluids, you’ll be fine in a few days.

On the return trip by car, Isabela slept peacefully in her seat; her fever was already beginning to subside with the antipyretic.

—Thank you —Camila said softly.

“I don’t know what I would have done without your help.

“You are not alone anymore,” Alejandro replied; the words carried more weight than either of them was prepared to analyze.

That night, after Isabela was already sleeping comfortably in her room, Alejandro knocked on Camila’s door.

“Is everything alright?” he asked when she opened it.

Yes, she is sleeping peacefully.

The doctor was right, you look better now.

They stayed at the door; the intimacy of the day created a new tension between them.

Camila, I started Alejandro.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted them.

At 9 pm it was unusual to have visitors.

Alejandro went to open it, finding a young man with worn jeans and a football shirt, tall, with dark skin, with that kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m looking for Camila Vázquez,” the stranger said.

“I am Ricardo Sandoval, Isabela’s father.

Camila’s world was shaken.

After months of peace, the past had come knocking at his door.

and it brought problems.

Chapter 4.

Reality bursts in.

“Who is it?” Camila shouted from the back of the apartment, but her voice broke when she recognized the figure in the doorway.

Ricardo Sandoval entered uninvited, his eyes scanning the luxurious apartment with a mixture of awe and greed.

At 28, he still had the same appeal that had seduced Camila two years earlier, but now she could see it.

hardness in his features, the calculating coldness he had ignored when he was younger.

—Okay, okay —Ricardo whistled.

“It seems my daughter is living better than I thought.

“Isabela is not your daughter,” Camila said, appearing in the room with her arms crossed.

“You didn’t acknowledge her, you didn’t sign the birth certificate.

You don’t have the right to that.

“Yes,” he said. “But that can change.”

“Ricardo collapsed on the sofa as if he owned the place.

I’ve been doing some research.

A father can claim paternity at any time.

All I need is a DNA test and a good lawyer.

Alejandro remained silent, observing the dynamic between them.

Camila had lost all the confidence she had gained in recent months.

She had become again the frightened woman who had discovered Isabela breastfeeding.

“What do you want, Ricardo?” Camila asked directly.

I want to meet my daughter and I want them to recognize that I have rights as a father.

You disappeared when he found out about the pregnancy.

Alejandro finally intervened.

Why all the interest now? Ricardo looked at him with barely concealed contempt.

And who are you? The new dad.

Her smile turned cruel.

Camila always had a good eye for finding someone who would support her.

“I’m your boss,” Alejandro replied coldly.

And this is my house.

I suggest you tone it down; your boss gives you a house, a car, and access to private hospitals.

Ricardo laughed.

Yes, of course, just the pattern.

Camila blushed, but maintained her composure.

Ricardo, if you want to see Isabela, we can arrange supervised visits, but I won’t allow you to use her to blackmail me.

Blackmail, Ricardo pretended to be offended.

I just want what’s best for my daughter, and I believe that includes adequate support, say 50,000 pesos a month.

A considerable amount considering her mother’s new circumstances.

Therein lay the true reason for its appearance.

“I don’t have 50,000 pesos,” Camila replied.

“But he does.”

Ricardo nodded to Alejandro, and I’m sure he’ll want to keep his employee happy.

The tension in the room became palpable.

Alejandro felt the urge to solve the problem by writing a check, but a look from Camila stopped him.

This was his battle, his decision.

“I’m not going to pay you to disappear again,” Camila said firmly.

“If you want to be part of Isabela’s life, you have to do it legally and responsibly.

” “Legal.

“Ricardo stood up and his friendly mask fell completely off.

Perfect.

Let’s see what a judge says about a single mother living with her wealthy employer.

Do you think that looks good in family court? The threat hung in the air like poison.

Camila paled as she understood the implications.

“I’ll give you a week to think about it,” Ricardo continued.

50,000 per month or I will begin the legal process to claim joint custody.

And believe me, I have friends who can get me a good lawyer.

After Ricardo left, the apartment felt contaminated by his presence.

Camila was sitting on the sofa, her hands trembling slightly.

“Can you do what you say?” asked Alejandro.

—Yes —Camila replied in a low voice.

“In Mexico, biological parents have rights, even if they were not present.

And you’re right about how a judge would see my situation.

A single mother who lives with a rich man.

They could argue that it is not a stable environment for Isabela.

That’s ridiculous.

That’s the reality.

Camila rubbed her temples.

The system favors parents, especially if they have resources.

And I have no way to wage a legal battle against him.

During the following days, the dynamic between Alejandro and Camila changed dramatically.

She became distant, efficient, but cold.

He avoided the casual conversations they had begun to enjoy.

He would lock himself in his room with Isabela as soon as he finished his chores.

Alejandro tried to help, offering to pay for lawyers to confront Ricardo directly, but Camila rejected every offer.

“This is my problem,” he insisted.

I’m not going to be your charity case.

You are not charity, you are what interrupted it.

What am I? Alejandro, your employee, your friend, your social project.

Because I need to know before this gets more complicated.

The question left them both speechless, because the truth was that neither of them knew exactly what they were to each other.

A week later, Ricardo returned.

This time he didn’t come alone.

He brought a man in a suit who introduced himself as his lawyer.

“Have you decided yet?” Ricardo asked, sitting back down on the sofa as if it were his own.

“I’m not going to pay you,” Camila replied, “but I agree that you can have supervised visits with Isabela.”

Once a week, for two hours, in a public place, Ricardo laughed.

Supervised visits as if he were a criminal.

No, Camila.

I want joint custody, alternate weekends, split vacations, and alimony over my dead body.

Then I’ll see you in court.

Ricardo stood up.

My lawyer has already prepared the lawsuit.

Claim for paternity, shared custody and alimony in my favor.

Apparently, when the father does not have custody, but can prove that the mother has greater resources, he can claim child support for raising expenses.

The lawyer nodded, confirming the information.

“The process takes between six months and a year,” he explained.

During that time, Isabela will have to remain in Mexico.

Obviously, he cannot leave the country while there is an open custody case.

After they left, Camila broke down.

For the first time since Alejandro had known her, he saw her cry for real.

Soyosos that came from the deepest part of his soul.

“He’s going to take Isabela away from me,” she whispered through tears.

and I can’t do anything to stop it.

Alejandro sat beside her, without touching her, but close enough for her to feel his presence.

Yes, we can, but we must be smart about it.

What do you mean? I know the legal system, Camila.

I’ve fought tougher battles than this, but I need you to trust me.

That night, while Isabela slept, unaware of the approaching storm, Alejandro made a decision that would change everything.

It was time to play by the same rules as Richard, and Alexander knew them better than anyone.

Chapter 5.

Finding common ground.

Alejandro spent the night investigating, calling contacts in the legal world, and browsing the websites of the Mexican judicial system. What he discovered gave him hope for the first time in days.

Camila found her in the kitchen at 6 in the morning preparing Isabela’s bottle.

We need to talk.

She looked exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept.

Isabela, oblivious to the problems of the adults, gurgled happily in her rocking chair.

“I’ve been researching Mexican family law all night,” Alejandro began, unfolding printed papers on the kitchen counter.

“Ricardo is right that he can claim paternity, but there are several factors that work in his favor.

Camila looked at him skeptically, but approached to review the documents.

First, abandonment during pregnancy is considered evidence of a lack of paternal interest.

Secondly, it is also relevant that he did not contribute financially during Isabela’s first months of life.

And third, he pointed to a specific paragraph.

Their demands for money can be interpreted as extortion and not as a genuine interest in the girl’s well-being.

But what about what he said about my situation? Living with you.

That’s where we need to be strategic.

Alejandro took a deep breath.

The system promotes stability.

Formal employment, stable housing, health insurance, education.

You have all that now.

Ricardo cannot offer any of those things.

Camila studied the papers; her hope slowly grew.

But I need a lawyer.

A good hill.

I already have one.

Sofia Ramirez, specialist in family law.

She’s the best in town and I explained the situation to her.

He wants to meet you this afternoon.

Alejandro, I cannot allow you to pay.

“It’s not charity,” she interrupted gently.

It’s self-defense.

If Ricardo wins, Isabela leaves and I stop, surprised by the intensity of my own feelings.

I don’t want them to leave.

For the first time in days, Camila really looked at him, seeing beyond the generous boss, beyond the man who had solved her practical problems.

“What are we doing, Alejandro?” he asked gently.

This isn’t just work anymore, is it? Before I could answer, Isabela started to cry, but it wasn’t her usual crying.

It was stronger, more urgent.

“It’s really hot again,” Camila said, immediately lifting her up. “More so than last time.”

This time they went straight to Hospital Ángeles without discussion.

The pediatrician who had treated them previously recognized them immediately.

“The infection has returned and is stronger,” he explained after examining Isabela.

“He needs intravenous antibiotics.

We are going to hospitalize her for 48 hours.

To monitor it.

Seeing Isabela in the hospital bed with a small cannula in her arm connected to IVs and monitors broke something in both of us.

Camila never left his side, sleeping in the hospital chair, rejecting Alejandro’s offers to bring her food or a change of clothes.

“It’s my responsibility,” she repeated every time he offered her help.

It was on the second night, when Isabela was finally improving and Camila had fallen asleep in the chair, that Alejandro fully understood what he had been avoiding acknowledging.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t want them to leave, it was that he had fallen in love with Isabela, yes, but more deeply with Camila, with her strength, her dignity, the way she had transformed his cold apartment into a warm home.

The morning Isabela was discharged, Alejandro received a call that changed everything.

“Mr. Mendoza, this is Mr. Martinez from the Public Prosecutor’s Office speaking.

We need to speak with you urgently about your business accounts.

The blood was read.

A tax investigation could mean the freezing of his assets, legal proceedings that would last for years, and the destruction of everything he had built.

“When?” he asked today.

His Brazilian partner, Renato Silveira, was arrested yesterday in Sao Paulo for money laundering.

His name appeared in several seized documents.

Alejandro closed his eyes.

She had ended her relationship with Renato months ago, precisely because she suspected his methods, but apparently she hadn’t been quick enough.

When they returned to the apartment, Alejandro found Camila in the living room.

I have to tell you something.

My financial situation may change drastically in the coming weeks.

He explained to her about the investigation, about the possibility that her accounts would be frozen.

about the fact that he could lose everything.

What does that mean for me? For Isabela? Camila asked. Does it mean I can no longer afford expensive lawyers? That we’ll have to move to something smaller?

What interrupted us? Alejandro stopped, realizing what he had said.

Yeah.

Contact us if you want.

Camila studied him for a long moment.

“Are you asking me to stay with you because you need help or because you want me to stay? Because I love you,” the words finally came out before I could stop them.

I love you.

I love Isabela, I love the family we have created without realizing it.

Camila remained silent for so long that Alejandro thought she had ruined everything.

“I love you too,” he finally whispered.

-But I’m scared.

I’m afraid this is too good to be true.

I fear Ricardo is right about how my situation looks.

“So let’s face it together,” said Alejandro, taking her hands.

Not as boss and employee, not as benefactor and beneficiary, but as partners, as family.

That night, while Isabela slept between them in the king-size bed of the master bedroom, Camila and Isabela talked until dawn about their fears, their hopes, about how to build something real from extraordinary circumstances.

“What are we going to tell Ricardo?” Camila asked.

The truth, Alejandro replied, is that we are a family and we are going to fight to stay together.

The legal battle was just beginning, but for the first time neither of them was facing it alone.

Chapter 6.

Building something real.

Six months later, Mrs. Sofia Ramirez’s office had become a second home for Camila and Alejandro.

The walls were covered with titles on family law and her desk displayed the meticulously organized evidence of her case against Ricardo.

“I have good news,” the lawyer announced, reviewing the most recent documents.

The tax investigation against Alejandro was closed.

The Attorney General’s Office confirmed that it severed all ties with Silveira prior to the illicit activities.

Your assets are free.

Alejandro felt that he could breathe fully for the first time in months.

Financial uncertainty had been a constant burden, but more than that, he had feared not being able to protect Camila and Isabella if he lost everything.

“And Ricardo?” Camila asked, settling Isabela on her lap.

The baby, who is now 8 months old, was entertaining herself with a chew toy.

That’s where things got interesting.

Sofia smiled.

It turns out that our friend Ricardo has some problems of his own.

He owes three months’ rent.

He has a pending labor lawsuit for wrongful dismissal and consulted his notes.

He was arrested two weeks ago for domestic violence against his current partner.

Camila paled, not out of sympathy for Ricardo, but because she recognized what she had avoided.

“Does that affect your custody request?” Alejandro asked.

Enormously, a history of violence, economic instability, and the fact that in eight months he never requested visits with Isabela.

The judge is inclined to completely deny their request for joint custody.

Completely.

Camila couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

He may be granted supervised visits once a month, but he must demonstrate stability for at least a year before any type of custody is reconsidered.

And regarding the alimony they were demanding from her, Sofia laughed.

The judge practically mocked that request.

As she left the office, Camila stopped on the stool, hugging Isabela to her chest.

“Is it over yet?” he asked.

The legal part is over.

Yes, Alejandro replied.

But Camila, we need to talk about us.

They had been living in a kind of emotional limbo for months.

Officially they were still boss and employee.

But at night, when Isabela fell asleep, they would sit together on the sofa watching movies.

Alejandro had started reading stories to Isabela before bed.

Camila would cook for him on weekends, dishes that had nothing to do with her work obligations.

They were a family in every way except name.

“I know what we’re going to talk about,” Camila said, “and I’m scared.”

What? That this is a fantasy, that when the external pressure disappears you realize that it’s not what you really want.

Alejandro stopped in front of her, taking her free hand.

Camila, in these months I have learned more about myself than in all the previous years.

I learned that success without someone to share it with is empty.

I learned that Isabela changed me before I even realized it, and I learned that I love you, not out of gratitude or convenience, but because you are the strongest and bravest person I know.

Alejandro, I haven’t finished.

He smiled.

I also learned that I want to have more children.

I want Isabela to have siblings.

I want to grow old with you.

I want us to stop pretending this is just a temporary solution.

Camila felt tears running down her cheeks.

Are you asking me to marry you? I’m asking you to build a life with me.

If you want to get married, perfect.

If you want us to live together without papers, that’s perfect too.

What matters is the decision to be a family.

Isabela, as if understanding the importance of the moment, extended her little arms towards Alejandro, who took her naturally.

“What do you think, little one?” he asked her.

“Do you want me to officially be your dad?” Isabela replied with a giggle, grabbing his nose.

“I think it’s a yes,” Camila said, laughing through her tears.

And my answer is also yes.

A year later, the ceremony took place in a small garden in Coyoacán, surrounded by both families.

Camila’s parents had traveled from Oaxaca, still a little overwhelmed by the change in their daughter’s circumstances, but clearly happy to see Isabela flourish.

Alejandro had met Camila’s extended family during several visits to Oaxaca, where they had established a small fair trade coffee operation.

which employed several families in the region, including Camila’s cousins ​​and neighbors.

“Are you ready?” asked the civil registrar.

Isabela, now a year and a half old, ran among the guests in her tiny white dress, being affectionately chased by Camila’s cousins.

She had learned to walk, to say dad and mom with equal enthusiasm, and to steal hearts with her smile.

“Ready,” they responded in unison during the ceremony, as they exchanged vows they had written themselves. Camila promised to remain the independent and strong woman who had fallen in love with him, while Alejandro promised never to forget the lessons of humility and gratitude she had taught him.

Finally, the judge said, Alejandro Mendoza legally agreed to adopt Isabela Vázquez as his daughter.

—Yes, I accept —Alejandro replied, his voice slightly broken.

When the judge declared them husband and wife, Isabela officially became Isabela Mendoza Vázquez.

The girl ran towards them shouting, “Mom, Dad!” and demanding that they pick her up.

At the reception, while Isabel cradled her in her paternal grandmother’s arms and Zapotec music blended with the music of Chiapas, Camila and Alejandro took a moment to reflect on the journey that had led them there.

“Do you regret anything?” Camila asked.

“You’re welcome,” Alejandro replied without hesitation.

Well, maybe it was because it took me a long time to realize what was in front of me.

And now, what’s next? We continue building day by day, problem after problem, joy after joy.

Camila had finished high school and started studying childcare, something she could do mostly online while taking care of Isabela.

Alejandro had restructured his business so he could spend more time at home, delegating more to his management team.

It wasn’t a perfect life.

They continued arguing about money, about domestic responsibilities, about how to raise Isabela.

Camila sometimes felt insecure at social events in Alejandro’s business world.

Sometimes she didn’t fully understand the cultural pressures she faced from her extended family, but they had learned to fight fairly, to solve problems as a team, and to never forget how lucky they were to have found each other.

“You know what the craziest thing about all this is?” Camila said as
they danced to the last song of the night.

What? It started at the worst possible time? I was terrified.

You were surprised, Isabela was crying.

And look where we ended up.

Perhaps the best beginnings don’t seem like the best at the time.

Isabel woke her up in her grandmother’s arms, looking around for her parents.

When she saw them dancing, she clapped with her little hands.

The family that no one had planned, but everyone had chosen, was finally complete.

Epilogue.

5 years later.

“Mommy, Daddy’s home,” Isabela shouted from the window of the apartment in La Condesa, her six-year-old face pressed against the glass.

Camila smiled from the kitchen, where she was finishing preparing Oaxacan tamales for the day’s celebration.

In 5 years, many things had changed, but Isabela’s excitement at seeing Alejandro arrive remained the same.

“Me?” Camila asked, drying her hands with her apron.

“He’s awake in his crib making strange noises,” Isabela replied, running towards the door.

Diego Mendoza Vázquez was eight months old and had inherited his mother’s dark eyes and his father’s easy smile.

Her arrival the previous year had completed the family in a way that no one had fully anticipated.

Alejandro came in carrying flowers and a small unicorn-shaped piñata.

“How are my two princesses?” he asked, hugging Isabela before kissing Camila.

—Three —Isabela corrected.

“Me, Mom, and my new sister.”

Camila blushed, unconsciously touching her belly, which was just beginning to show the first signs of the pregnancy that had been confirmed the previous week.

—You already told him—Alejandro whispered in Camila’s ear.

“I wanted us all to be together,” he replied.

It was Isabela’s sixth birthday, but it also marked five years since the day that changed their lives forever.

They had developed the tradition of celebrating not only Isabela’s birthday, but also her family day, the anniversary of the moment that had brought them together.

“Where is my favorite grandson?” asked Alejandro, heading towards Diego’s room.

“He’s your only grandson,” Camila laughed, following him.

They found Diego sitting in his crib.

Playing with wooden blocks that said Mexico in colored letters.

A gift from grandparents in Oaxaca.

“How was the meeting with the coffee producers?” Camila asked as Alejandro carried Diego.

Very well, Mr. Roberto, your cousin Maria’s father wants to expand his production.

We will be able to provide work for five more families this year.

The fair trade business they had established in Oaxaca had become an important part of both Alejandro’s business portfolio and the livelihood of Camila’s home community.

It wasn’t charity, but a genuine business deal that benefited both parties.

“And the classes?” asked Alejandro.

Camila had completed her certification in childcare two years prior and now worked part-time at a private daycare specializing in early childhood care.

He loved his job and the flexible schedule
allowed him to be there for Isabela and Diego.

Very good.

In fact, they offered me the position of pedagogical coordinator for next year.

“Are you going to accept it?” Camila smiled, touching her stomach again. “It depends on how we manage three children.”

Isabela, who had been pretending not to hear while arranging her toys, jumped for joy.

I knew it.

I knew I was going to have another sister.

“How did you know she was my sister?” Alejandro asked, laughing.

Because we need more girls in this family.

Diego already talks a lot for a baby, like all children.

As if he had understood, Diego mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like Dad.

—Come here— said Isabela, crossing her arms authoritatively.

“It has already begun.

The afternoon brought guests, some of Isabela’s colleagues, neighbors from the building who had become close friends, and family members.

Camila’s parents had traveled from Oaxaca, as they did every year for Isabela’s birthday.

“My daughter,” her mother said to Camila in Zapotec, as she always did when she wanted to talk about important things.

“Are you happy?” “Very happy, Mom,” Camila replied, in the same language, “More than I thought possible.

His mother nodded, watching Alejandro teach Diego how to clap, while Isabel led the other children in a game of her own invention.

“He is a good man.

It’s clear that he loves the children as if they were his forever.

“He loves them because they are his,” Camila corrected.

For him there is no difference between Isabela and Diego.

It was true.

Alejandro had never made a distinction between his adopted daughter and his biological son.

Isabel was still their first princess and Diego was simply the younger brother who had completed the family.

And the other one, Ricardo, asked his mother.

He has not appeared in three years.

I think she finally understood that Isabela has a family that loves her.

Ricardo had tried to maintain supervised visits for a few months after the court ruling, but gradually stopped showing up.

The last time they heard from him, he had moved to Tijuana with a new partner.

Isabela would occasionally ask about him, but without anxiety, more out of curiosity towards a person she had met briefly.

“Cake time!” Isabela shouted, running towards the kitchen.

The cake was a three-tiered creation they had made together that morning: chocolate with dulce de leche, decorated with sugar flowers and six butterfly-shaped candles while everyone sang Las Mañanitas.

Camila looked at her family.

Alejandro had Diego in one arm, his free hand on his waist.

Isabela lights the candles with the seriousness of someone making important wishes.

After the guests left and the children fell asleep, Camila and Alejandro sat on their apartment balcony looking at the city lights.

“What are you thinking about?” Alejandro asked.

Five years ago, if someone had told me that I would be here married to you, with two children and another on the way, living in an apartment in La Condesa, working in something I like, I wouldn’t have believed it.

Does it seem unreal to you? No, on the contrary, it feels like the life I should have had, but never thought possible.

They had faced real challenges in these 5 years.

The first year of marriage had been especially difficult, having to deal with class differences, family expectations from both sides, and learning to raise children together.

They had gone to couples therapy when arguments about money became too frequent.

They had cried together when Camila had a miscarriage two years ago.

They had celebrated together when Diego was born healthy, when Isabela learned to read, when the coffee business won an ethical trade award.

“Do you know what I like most about our story?” said Alejandro.

“What?” “That it didn’t end when we got married, that we still choose each other every day, even when we argue about who does the dishes.

“Especially then,” he laughed, “because that means we’re real, not a fantasy.”

Isabela appeared in the doorway of the balcony, rubbing her eyes.

I can’t sleep.

Diego is making dinosaur noises.

“Come here,” Camila said, opening her arms.

Isabela snuggled between her parents, gazing at the barely visible stars above the city.

Mommy, can I ask you something? Of course, my love.

When my new sister is born, will you teach her Zapotec like you taught me? Of course I will.

Why are you asking? Because I want you to know where we come from.

Grandma says that stories are passed down from mother to daughter.

Camila felt tears stinging her eyes.

Isabela had grown up completely bilingual, speaking Spanish at home and English at school, but she also understood Zapotec through conversations with her grandparents.

I’m going to teach her everything my mom taught me and my grandma taught her.

And Dad is going to teach him about coffee and business.

“If she wants to learn,” Alejandro replied, “but the most important thing is that we’re going to teach her the same things we taught you.”

What is that? Family doesn’t always arrive as we expect, but when it does, we cherish it forever.

Isabela nodded solemnly as if she fully understood the depth of those words.

“Can we stay here a little longer?” he asked.

“As long as you want,” Camila replied.

And so the three of them remained, gazing at the lights of Mexico City, feeling the kicks of the baby on the way, listening to the sounds of Diego sleeping in his room, creating memories that their children would remember for a lifetime.

The family, which had begun with an unexpected discovery, had
become something solid, lasting, real, not perfect, but authentic, not without problems, but full of love.

And that’s what the three of them silently decided.

It was exactly as it should have been.

Yeah.