Millopario feigned a faint to test his wife and his twins, until the domestic servant, Lisandro’s body, struck the wooden floor with a dry and brutal sound, a sound that froze the blood in the luxurious room of the children.

There was no movement, no sigh, no attempt to cushion the fall.

 He simply collapsed like a tree cut down at the root, lying face down on the expensive Persian carpet, a few centimeters from the toy blocks with which his sons Tiago and Mateo were playing, oblivious to the tragedy.

“Mr. Lisandro!” Alodra’s scream tore through the silence. The young employee, who was folding small clothes near the cup, dropped everything and threw herself to her knees on the floor, ignoring the pain of the impact on her own legs.

 Her hands, covered by yellow cleaning gloves, trembled violet as she tried to find the pulse in the man’s neck, who until a second ago had been looking at her sternly.

“Help, Lady Isadora, help. The gentleman isn’t breathing,” cried Alodra, her eyes filled with tears, turning her head towards the elegant woman standing by the door. But Isadora didn’t move.

 There was no scream of horror, no desperate running, no the anguish that would be expected from a woman about to get married in two weeks.

Isadora remained motionless, calmly adjusting her diamond earrings that had become disheveled.

Her cold eyes scanned the motionless body of her fiancé, with concern, with calculating curiosity, almost like someone observing a bag of trash blocking the hallway. “Stop yelling, stupid.

 “You’re going to scare the brats,” Isadora said in an icy voice. She walked slowly toward the body. She didn’t bend down.

Instead, she lifted the toe of her stiletto heel and contemptuously pushed Lisandro’s shoulder. Lisandro, Lisadro, come on, get up, stop acting. Madam, for God’s sake, he’s unconscious.

“Call an ambulance,” Alodra pleaded, pressing her fingers against the millionaire’s neck, feeling skin that seemed alarmingly cold. Isadora let out a short, humorless laugh.

“If he died, he died. It would save me five years of divorce,” she muttered to herself, although loud enough for Alodra to hear.

Eп ese iпstaпte, Lisaпdro, qυe maпteпía los ojos cerrados coп υпa fυerza de volυпtad de acero, siпtió cómo se le roto el corazóп.

He had orchestrated this fainting spell to test whether Isadora truly loved him or only loved his fortune. But he never expected such immediate, such visceral coldness.

 Every muscle in her body urged her to get up and throw her out. But she needed to see how far the evil went. She needed to know if her children would be safe with her.

The tense silence was broken when the twins, Tiago and Mateo, feeling the dark vibe in the room and seeing their father on the floor, began to cry.

Fue up llaпto siпcroпizado, poteпte, el llaпto del miedo puro.

 Isadora’s face transformed. The mask of indifference fell away, giving way to a volcanic rage. “Shut up!” she shouted, turning on her heels toward the corral.

 “Damn alarm sirens, shut up already!” The shout only made the babies cry louder, reaching their little arms out towards Alodra.

Isadora, completely losing her temper, advanced towards the children with her hand raised, her fingers curved like claws, ready to shake them to silence them.

“If he doesn’t shut up, I’ll give him a real reason to cry,” Isadora shrieked, blind with fury, slamming a fist straight at little Tiago’s face. “No, Alodra didn’t think twice.”

It was a primary animal. It propelled itself from the ground and interposed itself between Isadora’s hand and the children. The impact was sharp.

 Isadora’s hand, laden with heavy pins, struck Alodra’s cheek and shoulder with force.

The sound of the slap echoed throughout the room. Alodra let out a groan of pain, but did not move away.

On the contrary, he rushed over the playpen, covering the two babies with his own body, becoming a human shield, protecting the children’s heads against his chest, while receiving two more blows to his back.

 “Get out of the way, you filthy servant!” Isadora shouted, hitting the employee on the back with her closed fist.

“Let me show you what’s wrong here. Don’t touch them. You’ll have to kill me first before you can lay a hand on them.” Alodra roared from the ground with a voice that didn’t seem like hers, a voice of a wounded lioness.

He pressed the children against his piriform body, absorbing their tears, not caring that the blood ran down his split lip from the ground, through a tiny mesh between his eyelids, Lisandro saw everything.

He saw the democratic fury on the face of the woman with whom he was pleased to share his life.

He saw the absolute contempt for his own blood and saw the humble woman whom he barely greeted in the mornings receiving brutal blows to protect some children who were not his.

A solitary tear of rage and helplessness escaped from Lisandro’s closed eye and was lost on the carpet.

He wanted to get up and strangle Isadora right there, but he knew that if he did it now she would plead treacherous insanity, cry, lie. He needed more. He needed to destroy her legally.

She needed him to trust her. Isadora, panting from the effort of hitting Alodra, stopped and fixed her tangled hair.

 She looked with disgust at the employee who was still on the floor hugging the children. “Fine,” said Isadora, recovering her icy composure. “Stay there with those beasts. I’m going to look for the papers in the safe before calling emergency services.”

If Lisandro kicks the bucket, I want to make sure that the computerized accounts are active before the vultures of his lawyers arrive.

Isadora stepped over Lisandro’s legs, her hand landing awkwardly as she crossed, and left the room, her heels thumping. Aodra waited until the footsteps faded away.

She sobbed in silence, stroking Tiago and Mateo’s heads. Shh, shh. My children, my life, it’s over now. Aunt Mala is gone. Alondra is here.

 Aloпdra пυпca va a dejar qυe les pasa пada. sхsurυrraba besaпdo sхs freпtes sхdorosas mieпtras limpiaba sх propia saпgre coп el hombro para пo maпcharlos.

 Lisandro clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. “I swear on my mother’s memory,” he thought, “that you will pay for every tear of my children with blood and tears.”

 And you, Lodra, you have no idea what you just won today. Chaos erupted 10 minutes later, but it was controlled chaos. A grotesque play directed by Isadora herself.

The lights of the private ambulance previously arranged by Lisandro under strict confidentiality, although Isadora believed it was the standard emergency service, bathed the walls of the mansion.

 With flashing red and blue intermittent lights, creating a nightmarish atmosphere. Three strange paramedics running into the nursery, carrying a stretcher and resuscitation equipment.

They were professional actors, trusted friends of Lisandro’s head of security, but their acting was impeccable.

On one side, the tallest one ordered, separating Alodra, who was still kneeling next to Lisandro, holding her cold hand and praying in a low voice.

 Isadora followed them with a silk handkerchief pressed against her dry eyes, letting out a heart-wrenching cry for the benefit of the medical staff and the corridor’s security cameras, which she believed were the only ones working.

“Save him, please, he’s the love of my life,” Isadora shouted with a broken voice, like an Oscar, while behind her back she impatiently signaled to the paramedics to hurry up and take the bundle out of her house.

 They lifted Lisandro’s heavy body and placed him on the stretcher. They put an oxygen mask on him and began shouting unofficial medical codes.

Weak pulse, non-reactive pupils.

“We have to take him to the intensive care unit installed in the east wing or he won’t survive the transfer to the hospital,” shouted the lead paramedic, following the guide that Lisandro had sent him by text message that same morning.

 “Do whatever is necessary,” Isadora replied, and in a vehement whisper she added as they passed by her side, “I hope he remains in a vegetative state.” As the stretcher disappeared down the corridor, Isadora turned away.

Her face changed instantly from that of a grieving widow to an implacable tyrant. Her eyes fixed on Alodra, who had stood up still trembling with the twins clinging to her legs as if they were nails.

 “You,” said Isadora, pointing an accusing finger at her, “pick up your rags and get out of my house right now.” Alodra blinked, confused by the abruptness of the attack.

“Madam, I’m sorry, but I can’t leave. The children are scared. Mr. Lisandro is seriously ill. I’m the one who takes care of them. They don’t know anyone else.”

 Do you think I care what these ephedra want? Isadora took two steps forward, invading Alodra’s personal space. You’re the one to blame for this. I saw you serve her coffee this morning.

“You must have put something on him. You starving witch. You wanted to kill him to rob him, didn’t you? That’s a lie,” shouted Alodra, enraged.

 “I would give my life for Mr. Lisandro, I would never hurt him.” “Shut up.” Isadora slapped him again, this time with the back of her hand, making Alondra stumble backward.

“You’re fired. You have 5 minutes to get your junk out of the service room and disappear. If I see you here when I get back from seeing my beloved, I’ll call the police. And believe me, I know the commissioner.”

I’ll plant jewels in your purse and you’ll rot in jail for robbery and attempted murder. The threat hung in the air, heavy and toxic. Alodra knew that Isadora was capable of that and more.

She was a powerful woman, co-opted and she was just a domestic employee if the family was in the city.

 The fear of prison chilled her blood, but then she felt the squeeze of a small hand on her foot. She looked down. Mateo was looking at her with enormous eyes, full of terror, and was stretching out his arms asking her to pick him up.

If she left, those children would be left alone with the monster that haunted them. Alodra raised her eyes, she wiped the blood from her mouth with determination. Her posture changed.

 She was no longer a submissive servant, she was a lioness defending her cubs. No, said Alodra. It was a soft word, but firm as steel. Isadora opened her eyes wide, as if she had spoken to her in another language.

“What did you say? I said that,” Alodra repeated, lifting both babies in her arms, one on each hip, supporting the weight with the strength that came from the soul.

 Mr. Lisandro hired me, and only he can fire me. As long as he’s in this house, alive or sick, I’m still the mother of these children, and I’m not going to leave them alone with you. You’re challenging me, you sly cat.

Sisó Isadora coп las veпas del cυello marcadas. ¿Do you want to go to jail? Do you want me to deport you? I can ruin your life with a call.

“Call whoever you want,” Alodra replied, backing away to the corner of the room where she had a better view of the door. “Call the police. Tell them I stole from you, tell them to search me. They won’t find anything.”

But if you take me out of here, you’ll have to drag me out with my kids screaming, because I’m not going to let them go.

 And if you try to hit them again, I swear by the Virgin I’ll forget who you are and defend myself. Isadora froze for a second. She hadn’t expected resistance.

She was used to people lowering their heads to her money and her shout. The employee’s insolence threw her off.

She also knew that if the police came now, there would be too many questions, too many witnesses, and she had plans for that night that required absolute privacy.

 “Okay,” said Isadora, her tone softening to a dangerous calm, much more terrifying than her screams. “Stay, stay and play mom.”

But listen carefully, from this moment on, your life in this house is going to be hell. You won’t eat, you won’t sleep, and if you even think about asking for a penny of your salary…

 If you want to play the heroine, you’re going to suffer like a martyr. Isadora walked toward the door, but stopped in the frame and turned her head with a malevolent smile. Oh, and one more thing. The lawyer is coming tomorrow.

I’m going to arrange for the twins to be transferred to a military post abroad. So enjoy them tonight because it will be the last time you see them.

 Isadora went out and slammed the door, leaving Alodra trembling with her heart racing, but with her hands safe in her arms.

What Pipgupa of the two knew was that in the fourth doctor’s office of the east wing, Lisandro had taken off his oxygen mask. He was sitting on the stretcher looking at a monitor that was transmitting a live image of the nursery.

 His fists were so clenched that his knuckles were white. “Sir, do you want us to intervene?” asked one of the fake doctors. Lisandro hit his head slowly.

Her eyes shone with a mixture of pain and a cold, calculating fury. No, not yet. I need you to sign the illegal transfer documents.

I need him to be completely incriminated. Let him believe he’s won. Let him bring his lover. Tomorrow, tomorrow will be the day of the final judgment. Lisandro lay down again, connecting himself once more to the machines.

The war had begun and he had the bravest soldier, his rear guard, a woman with yellow gloves and a heart of gold who had just declared war on him for some children who were not his.

Subscribe to discover the psychological torture Isadora plans for that night and how Alodra will use her wiles to survive. The solid mahogany door of the master bedroom opened with a creak that sounded like a lick.

Four men with precise maneuvers carried the stretcher, transforming Lisandro’s personal studio into an improvised intensive therapy room.

They connected monitors, hung serum bags, and adjusted mechanical ventilators. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, beep beep beep, began to mark the time of a nightmare that was just beginning.

The chief doctor, a stern-looking man named Dr. Füepes, actually a former military doctor loyal to Lisandro’s family, took off his stethoscope and turned to Isadora.

 She was standing next to the window, biting her fingernail, either out of anxiety, or out of impatience.

Alodra, with red and swollen eyes, remained on the threshold of the door, hugging herself as if she were holding her pieces together with fear chilling her bones.

“Mrs. Isadora,” said Dr. Fuentes in a grave voice, “one of those who brings bad news. The situation is critical.”

 The stroke was massive. Mr. Lisandro has entered a deep coma.

Isadora brought her hands to her mouth, letting out a stifled cry that sounded convincing to anyone who didn’t know the darkness in her soul. “No, it can’t be,” she sobbed, taking a step closer. “She’s going to wake up.”

 “When will he wake up? We got married in two weeks. The odds are extremely low,” the doctor speculated, glancing sideways at Lisandro’s motionless body.

His vital functions are stable, but his brain is as if it has been switched off. He could wake up tomorrow or he could remain like this for years. Technically, he is in a vegetative state.

 He may hear, he may feel, but he cannot move or respond. He is trapped inside his own body. A thick silence filled the room.

Alodra stifled a groan of pain and covered her mouth to avoid interrupting, feeling that the world was upon her. Yes, Lisandro, the children were at the mercy of the woman who hated them.

 However, Lisandro, lying motionless in bed, felt something chilling. He felt Isadora’s hand rest on his arm. It wasn’t a caress. Her fingers drummed lightly on his skin.

It was a celebration. “Understood, doctor,” Isadora said, and her voice changed subtly. The hysteria disappeared, replaced by business efficiency.

If it’s indefinite, I’ll need a full medical certificate. I immediately have to manage your bank accounts and the companies. Someone has to sign the checks, and as your future wife, that responsibility falls on me.

Of course, ma’am. I’ll prepare the documents, replied Dr. Fuentes, hiding his disgust at professionalism.

We’ll leave a nurse on duty in the corridor tonight, but he needs absolute rest. As soon as the doctors left the room, Isadora’s transformation was instantaneous and terrifying.

She dried her tears with a sudden jerk of her wrist and turned towards Alodra, who was still crying silently at the door.

 “What are you doing standing there whining like a little girl?” Isadora spat, her face contorted with contempt. “Your crying won’t revive him and it gives me a headache.”

“Madam, may I come closer? I just want to say an Our Father for him,” Alondra pleaded. “Don’t even think about it!” Isadora shouted, blocking her way. “I don’t want your servant’s germs near my fiancé. Besides, you have work to do.”

 Adora walked towards Lisandro’s desk, located in the middle of the same room and began to open the drawers violently, throwing papers on the floor,

She desperately searched for the key to the safe or the black notebook where she knew he kept his passwords. “Look at this mess!” Isadora shouted, throwing a pile of invoices into the air that fell like dirty snow around the medical bed.

Start cleaning. I want this room spotless. And then go to the kitchen and prepare a delicious dinner for me. I’m exhausted from pretending to be sad and I’m ravenously hungry.

But the kids, I’m telling you, the kids are getting restless. Give them water and lock them in their room. If I hear a single sound from those brats, I swear you’ll regret it.

Move. Alodra lowered her head, swallowing her pride and her pain. She entered the room, knelt down, and began to pick up the papers that Isadora was frantically throwing on the floor.

Each piece of paper she picked up was trampled seconds later by Isadora’s heels, as she went from one side to the other looking for the combination of the safe.

 So, where did this idiot hide the codes? Isadora has been throwing state books around. I know he has millions in Swiss accounts. They have to be mine before someone declares their legal incapacity.

Lisandro heard everything. The sound of the drawers being ripped out, the paper being torn, the insults of the woman who said she loved him.

But what hurt him the most was hearing Alodra’s ragged breathing.

crawling on the ground on his feet, picking up the mess and the silence, enduring the humiliation just to stay close to him and watch that Isadora didn’t disconnect the cable.

“There’s nothing here,” Isadora grumbled, finally kicking the desk chair.

 Well, the locksmith will come tomorrow. Now go to Lodra. Take your tragic face to the kitchen and remember, don’t say a word to anyone about me looking for papers.

If you open your mouth, I’ll say that you stole a gold watch that will conveniently disappear tonight. Alodra got up with aching knees and a handful of crumpled documents in her hands.

 She looked at Lisandro one last time with a look full of loyalty and infinite sadness. “With your permission, ma’am,” she whispered and left, closing the door delicately.

When she was left alone, Isadora let out a laugh, approached the bed, looked at Lisandro’s pale face and kissed him until her lips touched his ear.

“Rest, my love,” he whispered softly. “Rest, while I keep all your empire.” Night fell upon the mansion like a lead weight.

The house was in silence, an unusual silence, broken only by the wind that hit the windows and the constant buzzing of the medical machines in the main room.

Inside the room, the only light provided the blue glow of the monitors and of a table lamp in the corner.

Lisandro lay motionless, with his eyes closed, concentrating on his rhythmic and superficial breathing to avoid altering the senses and betraying his consciousness.

His back ached from being in the same position for hours, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the psychological torture he was about to witness.

 The door opened softly. The click of Isadora’s heels sounded slow and deliberate on the wood. The scent of expensive perfume and alcohol invaded the sterile space.

Lisandro felt the mattress sink beside him. She had sat on the edge of the bed. “Cheers, dear,” said Isadora. The clinking of a crystal glass confirmed that he was drinking.

There was a long pause. Lisandro felt a cold hand caress his forehead, moving down his cheek to his neck. The touch was possessive, not affectionate.

“You know?” Isadora began, her voice slightly thick from the wine. “I always hated you a little. I hated your righteousness, your obsession with doing the right thing, your boring morality.”

 You were perfect, almost unbearable, but you had something that compensated for all that boredom. Your bacterial account. He took a long sip of wine.

Lisandro had to use all his willpower to clench his fists under the sheets.

His heart raced slightly and the monitor beeped. Oh, calm down, Isadora teased, tapping the monitor. Don’t get excited.

I’m not here to make love to you. God, that was boring too. He got up and started pacing around the bed like a shark circling wounded prey.

The truth is that this is the best thing that could have happened to you, Lisandro, and it is definitely the best thing that has happened to me.

 Look at you, still, silent, without giving orders, without looking disapprovingly at my expenses. You are the perfect husband now. An expensive piece of furniture that breathes. Isadora stopped at the foot of the bed and sighed with satisfaction.

The only thing that bothers me, the only thing that ruins my complete happiness, are those parasites you have for children. Lisandro’s blood froze.

 The paternal instinct flared up like a flame. If you touch them, I’ll kill you, he thought. And the heart monitor jumped. Beep, beep beep beep. Wow, it seems you can still hear me somewhere in that fried brain of yours.

Rio Isadora watched the screen. Okay, listen to this carefully because I want you to suffer even though you can’t move.

 He clung to him again, resting his hands on either side of his head, invading his space, whispering directly into his face with a breath that smelled of red wine. “I’m going to sign the papers tomorrow.”

I have found a precious military shelter. It is in the mountains, far, far away from here. It accepts children from the age of two and the allowance is generous enough.

 He says he has very strict corrective methods. Lisandro felt a visceral desire to bite his jugular. A military internment for 2-year-old babies. That was a series of abuse and abandonment.

“I don’t want to see them anymore,” Isadora said, her voice dripping with hatred. “They remind me of her dead mother, and they bother me.”

 I want this house for myself, for my parties, for my new life. Tiago and Mateo will leave first thing tomorrow morning, and that stupid maid, to Lodra. Oh, I have something special planned for her.

I’m not going to fire her yet. I’m going to make her hand them over to the interned man herself. I’m going to break her heart watching her take her children away.

 And then, when she’s broken, I’ll throw her out on the street accused of theft. Isadora straightened up and finished her drink in one gulp. It’s a perfect plan, don’t you think? You’re a vegetable. Your children disappear into the system.

The maid goes to jail and I’m left with everything. The happy ending I always deserved. She smashed the empty glass against the opposite wall, where it shattered into a rattle of glass.

 Good night, my love. Try not to die tonight. I still need your fingerprint for some transfers tomorrow. Isadora left the room laughing softly, leaving the door ajar.

Eп la peпυmbra, υпa lágrima solitaria y calieпte rodó por la 100 de Lisaпdro hasta perderse eп la almohada.

 It wasn’t sadness, it was a promise. Tomorrow he swore to himself as he calmed his breathing to alert the nurse in the hallway. Tomorrow you will meet the real Lisandro and you will wish that coma had been real.

But then a very faint noise distracted him. Someone was slipping through the half-open door, a small, cautious shadow. It was aodra.

 He had waited for the witch to go to her bedroom. He slipped in on his heels with his shoes in his hand so as not to make any noise. He approached the bed, looking with terror towards the hallway.

His face was gaunt, but his eyes shone with determination. He knelt beside Lisandro’s head and took something out of his pocket.

 It was a small picture of the Virgin and a cheap plastic rosary. “Sir, Mr. Lisadro,” he whispered in a broken, barely audible voice. I don’t know if he hears me. The lady says no, but I feel that he does.

Please, sir, you have to fight, you have to wake up. Alodra gently placed the rosary between Lisandro’s limp fingers and pressed her hand over his.

 Her hands were rough from work and cleaning, but they radiated a moist warmth that Lisandro felt to his very core. She wants to take the children away, sir. She says she’s going to send them far away.

Alodra’s voice broke and she choked out a sob. But I’m not going to let that happen. I already have a suitcase ready and hidden in the garden.

If she comes for them tomorrow, I’m going to steal them, sir. I’m going to take them far away from her or find them. I know it’s a crime. I know I’ll go to jail if she catches me, but I’d rather be in jail than let those little angels suffer.

Lisandro felt up the throat that almost prevented him from breathing.

 “To steal them in order to save them,” he thought in amazement. This woman was willing to become a fugitive, to destroy her own life, just to protect her children.

“I promise I will take care of them as if they were my own,” Alodra said, kissing Lisandro’s hand reverently. “You fight, wake up, we will be waiting for you.”

 Alodra got up quickly when she heard a noise in the hallway, she held back her tears, gave her a last caress on the forehead and vanished into the shadows of the house like a ghostly guardian.

Lisandro was alone again, but something had changed. The despair had disappeared. Now he had a plaÿ and an ally who was worth more than all his gold.

 The trap was set. All that was missing was for Isadora to take the final step towards her own destruction. The morning sun filtered through the mansion’s curtains, but it brought no warmth.

In the kitchen the atmosphere was as cold as the heart of the new owner. The twins, Tiago and Mateo, were crying in their high chairs.

 It was a different cry than the one from the previous day. This one was from fear, it was a sharp, persistent, and heartbreaking cry. The cry of hunger.

Alodra was standing in front of the open pantry with the chosen heart. The can of special hypoallergenic formula, the only one the children’s delicate stomachs could tolerate, was empty.

 She shook the metal container hoping for a miracle, but only enough residual powder for half a baby bottle fell out. “Shut them up!” Isadora’s voice boomed from the kitchen doorway.

She was dressed in a black silk robe, sunglasses, inside the house and with an electronic cigarette in her hand.

She looked impeccable, rested, the complete opposite of Alodra, who had deep dark circles under her eyes, and her face was wrinkled after spending the night watching over the children’s door.

 “Ma’am, are you hungry?” Alodra said, showing the empty can with trembling hands. “The special milk ran out. I need money to go to the pharmacy. It costs $60 per can and I need two for the week.”

Isadora let out a dry laugh, exhaling smoke downwards towards the ceiling. $60, she repeated as if it were a tasteless joke.

 Do you think I’m stupid? I’m not going to waste my inheritance on fancy food for those bastards. But, ma’am, it’s a doctor’s prescription. If they drink regular milk, they get sick, they get cramps, they vomit.

Isadora tried to explain to Lodra desperately while Mateo banged on the table with his hands asking for food. Isadora walked to the sink, turned on the tap and filled a glass with cold water.

Then he looked for the sugar bowl, poured in three tablespoons and stirred it with his finger without even using a spoon. “Here,” he said, banging the glass on the table in front of Alodra.

Water with sugar. That’s what people in ancient villages drank and they died. Give them that. Alodra looked at the glass with horror. That will kill them.

They are growing babies. Please, Mrs. Isadora, have mercy. Deduct it from my salary if you wish, but let me buy their milk. Your salary is frozen until further notice, dear.

Isadora smiled maliciously. And if you don’t give them that, they won’t eat anything. You are forbidden to touch the food in the pantry for them.

 That food is for civilized people, or for animals that are going to be deported tomorrow. Having said this, Isadora turned around and left, leaving Alodra with the crying children and a glass of sugared water that looked like wine.

Alodra didn’t doubt it. When I heard Isadora going up the stairs to her room, she ran to her servant’s room.

 Underneath his mattress he pulled out an old sock where he kept his savings, crumpled bills and coins that he was prepared to send to his sick mother in his country.

He counted the money quickly; it was enough for a big can and maybe some diapers. “Forgive me, Mom,” he whispered to the ceiling, “But these children can’t go hungry.”

He left through the back door with the twins in the double stroller, running under the blazing sun to the nearest pharmacy, 10 blocks away. He bought the formula, returned sweating, and sneaked into the kitchen.

His hands moved quickly, mixing the powder with warm water, testing the temperature on his wrist.

 The sweet aroma of milk filled the kitchen. The children, seeing the white bottles, stretched out their arms desperately, suddenly stopping their crying. “Here it is, my loves, it’s time to eat,” smiled Alodra, feeling an immediate relief.

“What is that?” Isadora’s voice caught the air. She stood at the garden gate, having returned to silence.

 Her eyes were fixed on the new can of formula on the countertop. “I gave you an order, servant,” Isadora said, walking slowly toward her. “I bought it with my own money, ma’am.”

“It didn’t cost you a cent,” Lodra defended herself, protecting the baby bottles with her body.

It’s not about the money, it’s about obedience. The maid hissed and snatched one of the prepared bottles from Alodra’s hand. “No!” the maid shouted.

 Isadora walked towards the toilet in the service bathroom next to the kitchen. Alodra ran after her, but she was too late. Isadora uncapped the baby bottle and emptied the white liquid into the toilet bowl while pulling the chain.

The sound of the water carrying away the food was a brutal blow. He did the same with the second bottle and then with psychopathic coldness,

He took the newly purchased can of powder, the sacrifice of Alodra’s savings, and poured it whole into the toilet, watching as the powder turned into a lumpy paste and

It disappeared down the drain. “You are a monster,” cried Alodra, falling to her knees in front of the toilet, trying to save something, but it was useless. “Are you hungry? Learn to go hungry,” said Isadora, looking at her nails.

“The military intern is not going to have a piñera to buy them whims. I am doing them a favor.”

 “I’m crushing them.” Isadora left the bathroom, stepped over Alodra’s legs, and stopped at the door. “If I see food I didn’t authorize again, next time I’ll flush your passport down the toilet.”

Give them water with sugar and if they cry, turn up the volume on the television. Alodra stayed on the bathroom floor with the smell of wasted milk in the air.

 She heard Tiago and Mateo’s cries in the kitchen, growing louder and more forceful. She angrily wiped away her tears, got up, went to the kitchen, and picked up the two boys. “They won’t drink sugar water,” she promised them, kissing their little heads.

Not while I breathe. He took out of his pocket two apples that he had managed to hide from his own breakfast and a piece of bread.

 Coп pacieпcia iпfiпita grated the mazпzaпa until it was pureed and softened the paп coп Ѕп little bit of warm water.

She sat on the floor, hidden behind the kitchen island so that no one could see them from the windows, and fed them mouth to mouth, bite by bite, like hungry little birds.

In the upstairs room, Lisandro was looking at the screen of his cell phone hidden under the sheets.

 The kitchen security camera transmitted high definition. He had seen everything. He had seen his fiancée flush their children’s food down the toilet.

She had seen Alodra spend her savings and then feed her children her own food, hidden like a criminal in her own house. Her blood pressure rose dangerously.

The monitors around her began to beep faster, but she forced herself to calm down. Just a little longer, she thought, feeling how hatred was turning into a cold strategy. Just a little longer, Isadora.

Your grave is already dug. Lodra is pushing you without knowing it. The afternoon fell heavy and gray. In the room covered in intensive care, the only sound was the rhythmic hiss of the artificial respirator that Lisandro used intermittently to maintain the charade.

 Isadora sat in the reading chair two meters from the bed. She wasn’t looking at her fiancé. She was engrossed in her telephone, her feet propped up on a velvet ottoman, laughing softly as she sent out notes of her voice.

“Yes, my love. Roco, don’t be impatient,” Isadora said into the phone, not caring that Lisandro could hear her.

 “I already have the keys to two accounts, but the big ones, the Cayman Islands ones, are encrypted. I need your fingerprint. Yes, it’s lying here like a sack of potatoes.”

She doesn’t move, she doesn’t do anything. It’s pathetic. Lisandro, with his eyelids closed, decided it was time. He had to test if there was a trace of humanity left in her or if her difference was total.

And I needed to give Alodra the opportunity to prove once again what she was made of.

Lisandro began to alter his breathing. He tensed the muscles of his chest and throat to produce a gurgling sound as if he were choking on his own saliva.

He made the sensors attached to his chest detect the induced arrhythmia. Beep, beep, beep. The heart monitor alarm began to sound, first slowly, then urgently.

A red light blinked on the console. Lisandro arched his back slightly, simulating a respiratory convulsion, gasping grotesquely for air.

Isadora looked up from her phone, annoyed by the noise. “Oh, please, what’s wrong with you now?” she huffed, getting up from the chair. “You can’t die in silence.”

 I’m on an important call. So we’ll see each other at 8, he continued, saying into the phone, ignoring the alarm that was now screeching loudly. Yes, go to the house.

The servants are under control and the bundle isn’t going to say anything. Lisandro’s choking sound grew louder. He was really acting out an airway obstruction crisis.

 Any normal person would have run for help or tried to move it. Isadora just rolled her eyes and put on her earbuds to block out the noise. Sir, the door burst open.

Alodra ran like a breath. He had heard the alarm from the hallway where he was cleaning the floor on his knees on Isadora’s orders.

 Upon seeing Lisandro convulsing and turning red from the effort of containing his breath, and Isadora, sitting comfortably with the cell phone, Alodra felt a rush of pure adrenaline.

“He’s drowning!” Alodra shouted, throwing herself onto the bed. “Don’t touch him!” Isadora shouted, taking off her earpiece. “Stop the drama.”

 “It’s probably the machine that’s malfunctioning. Get out of here. You reek of chlorine.” Alodra completely ignored her. Her hands, agile and expert, moved with a precision that surprised even Lisandro.

Alodra had studied nursing in her country for three years before having to emigrate due to lack of money. A fact that Lisandro was unaware of until that moment.

 “Airway obstructed, saturation low,” Alodra muttered to herself with her gaze fixed on the monitor and Lisandro’s chest.

He quickly lowered the head of the bed to put him in a horizontal position. He forcefully opened his mouth, inserting his fingers without disgust, to check if his tongue was blocked in his throat.

He took the suction capsule that was on the auxiliary table, prepared by the acting doctors.

 He passed her and inhaled the saliva that Lisandro had accumulated hypothetically.

“Come on, breathe, sir, breathe,” he ordered in a firm voice as he placed the 100% oxygen mask on him and lifted his nosepiece to open the airway.

Lisandro felt the air enter. He felt the warm and competent hands of Alodra, checking his carotid pulse.

 He felt how she adjusted his head with a delicate touch. He gradually stopped faking the convulsion, stabilizing his breathing to simulate that the intervention had worked.

The monitor returned to a steady rhythm. Beep, beep. Alodra slumped onto the edge of the bed, trembling from the post-traumatic reaction, her forehead beaded with sweat.

 “Thank God, thank God,” she whispered, stroking Lisandro’s hair provocatively. “But what do you think you’re doing?” Isadora stood up furiously and walked toward the bed.

“You almost broke his neck. You’re a brute. Who gave you permission to touch medical equipment? You could have killed him.” Alondra turned around and for the first time her gaze towards Isadora was not one of fear, but of crushing moral judgment.

If I hadn’t gone in, he would have died, ma’am. He was choking. You were sitting there watching him turn blue. Watch how you speak to me. Isadora raised her hand to slap her again.

Alodra did not move, but held my gaze. Hit me if you want, but know that if the Lord dies under your guard, the autopsy will reveal that it was by plight.

 And there are cameras in the hallway that will show that you were inside and did nothing while the alarm was going off. Isadora stopped with her hand in the air.

The swaying of the evidence made her fret. She lowered her hand slowly, closing it in a fist. “You are lucky that I don’t want to scandalize them today,” Isadora said in a vehement voice.

 Now get out and clean those disgusting hands.”

Alodra turned towards Lisandro, whispered close to his ear, adjusted the pillow, and whispered something that only he could hear, something that pierced his soul more than anyone ever betrayed him.

Don’t laugh, sir, please. Your children need you. I won’t be able to protect them forever.

Wake up, I beg you. I would give my life for yours, if I could. Lodra separated herself with her eyes full of congested tears and left the room with her head held high, leaving Isadora seething with rage.

As soon as the door closed, Isadora picked up her phone again. Roco, go now.

 This servant is becoming a problem. I think we’re going to have to bring forward the plan for the accidental overdose. Yes, tonight I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. Dead dog, no more rabies.

Lisandro, on his phone, felt a real chill. He had decided to kill him. The charade had to end, but he needed to trap Roco inside the house.

 He needed the lover to enter so the crime would be flagrant. “Go, Roco,” Lisandro thought, visualizing how he would destroy them both. “Go and enter the lion’s den.”

This night the mansion will become a hunt.”

The side service door opened with rehearsed stealth. She cried, barefoot so as not to make noise on the marble, and pulled the arm of a tall man, dressed in a leather jacket and smelling of a cheap mix of tobacco and sweet cologne.

 It was Roco, your personal stripper and lover for the past 6 months. Are you sure it’s safe? Roco whispered, glancing nervously at the security cameras in the hallway.

“Shut up and go outside, if you are Sadora, dragging him into the shadow of the mansion. The chambers of the east wing are locked. The security guard is bribed and the maid is locked in her room.”

 The path is clear. They climbed the stairs quickly amid stifled laughter and hands that were urgently searching. Upon reaching the door of the master bedroom, Isadora pushed it open without a second thought.

Inside the scene was gloomy. The machines were whistling softly, the light was dim, and Lisandro lay motionless at the scepter of all, a fallen monarch in his own castle.

 Roco was chewing gum and stopped at the foot of the bed. He whistled softly. “Well, well, look at the great Lisandro,” Roco mocked, pacing around the bed with his hands in his pockets.

He looks a lot less shy with both his face. It’s not υп roco furniture, υп furniture like υпa bacaria cυeпta,” Isadora said, closing the door securely.

 He approached the small table where he had left an open bottle of champagne. “Do you want to toast?” “I want to see the money,” Roco replied, approaching Lisandro.

If he had a shred of respect, he patted the millionaire on the cheek. Humiliating pats, sisters.

Hey, beautiful sleeper, where’s the pasta? Lisandro, trapped in his voluntary prison, felt the rough hand of that stranger on his face.

 The fury that ran through his veins was so intense that he feared his heart monitor would betray him.

Tυvo qυe coппtrarse eп υпa imageп meпtal de sυs hijos para пo levaпtarse y romperle el cυello a ese iпtruso allí mismo.

Patience. It repeated itself mentally. “Let them trust you. Don’t waste your time. They’re not going to answer you.”

“Isadora laughed, pouring two glasses. “Come here, we have work to do before we celebrate.” Roco moved away from the bed and sat next to Isadora on the Italian leather sofa, just 3 meters from where her husband lay.

Isadora pulled out a state-of-the-art tablet and placed it on the table. “Accounts in the Cayman Islands require biometrics,” Isadora explained, her eyes gleaming with greed.

I need your footprint. He got up, took the tablet, and went back to bed. He grabbed Lisandro’s open hand roughly, as if it were a tool. Lisandro felt his cold, manipulative fingers.

“Put your finger there, darling. That’s cooperate,” murmured Isadora, pressing Lisandro’s thumb against the screen.

 The tablet emitted an access beep. “Damn it!” Isadora shouted. Her hands are sweaty. Wipe her hand, Roco.

The master approached, took a tissue, and rubbed Lisandro’s finger with excessive force, almost skinning it. “Let’s try again,” Roco grumbled. “Press again. Pig. Access granted.”

 “Yes!” they both shouted at the top of their lungs, jumping like children in a candy store. “Look at those zeros, yells. My God, we’re rich!” exclaimed Roco, looking at the screen with greed.

Transfer it all to the ghost account in Pama. I can’t do it all at once. It would set off the bank alarms, Isadora said, typing rapidly.

I’m going to make three transfers of 2 million each tonight.

 Tomorrow, when his brain death is confirmed, or whatever we decide, we will have access to the rest as legal heirs. Lisandro listened to every figure, every word, every theft.

He was emptying the drains in front of his face, but what he saw afterwards was worse.

“Well, we already have the first 6 million secured,” said Roco, leaving the tablet on Lisandro’s chest as if it were a side table.

 “Now, how about we celebrate in the boss’s bed?” Isadora let out a lascivious laugh. “Here, with the present, it’s what excites me the most,” Rocco whispered, kissing her neck.

Do it in front of him, knowing that he can do nothing, taking everything from him, his money, his wife, his dignity,

They began kissing voraciously right there, at the foot of the medical bed, the sounds of clothes falling, muffled moans and cruel laughter filled the room.

But they weren’t as alone as they thought. The bathroom door in the bedroom, which had been left ajar by a millimeter, hid a shadow.

Alodra was there. She had entered through the bathroom service door that connected to the cleaning corridor to change the towels and upon hearing voices she had been paralyzed with terror.

 Through the screen, Alodra saw the gruesome scene: the Lord’s betrothed, and a stranger, robbing her and mocking her prostrate body. Alodra covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her scream.

His eyes filled with tears of helplessness. Mr. Lisandro, forgive me for not being able to defend you from this, he thought softly.

 She wanted to go out and confront them, but she knew that old man looked dangerous. If she went out now, he might hurt her. And then, who would take care of the children?

He had to be intelligent. He took his old cell phone out of his apron pocket. The screen was broken, but the camera worked.

 With trembling hands, he pointed through the grid. He recorded 10 seconds, 20 seconds.

He recorded Roco’s face, the tablet with the open baccarats on Lisandro’s chest and Isadora laughing while unbuttoning her lover’s shirt.

 “I have the proof,” Alodra thought, clutching the phone to her chest like a treasure.

 “Tomorrow I’m going to the police. I don’t care if you don’t believe me. This has to end.” In bed, Lisandro was living his own hell. He could hear the sounds of betrayal just a few meters away.

Each of Isadora’s moans was like a stab. But he also heard something else. A faint click came from the bathroom. The sound of a photo or a video.

 “I knew Alodra was there. Resist Alodra,” Lisandro thought, telepathically sending forces to him. “Don’t go out. Don’t take any risks. I’ll take care of them. Just wait.”

An hour later, the atmosphere in the room had changed. The sexual euphoria had dissipated, giving way to a cold, calculating tension.

Roco was fastening his belt, pacing back and forth impatiently.

Isadora touched up her makeup in front of the mirror, ignoring her fiancé’s body. “I don’t like this, Isa,” said Roco, looking at Lisandro with suspicion. “The doctor said he might wake up.”

Indefinite coma means certain death. What happens if tomorrow he opens his eyes? What happens if he remembers that we put our finger on the tablet? He won’t remember anything.

 “He’s sedated,” Isadora replied, though her voice betrayed doubt. “And if he does,” Roco insisted, approaching her and grabbing her by the shoulders. “If he wakes up, we’re going to jail. You for fraud and me for being an accomplice.”

The millions are gone, the trips are over, we’ll rot in a cell.” Isadora remained silent, looking at Lisandro’s reflection in the mirror.

 The fear of losing their lifestyle was stronger than any trace of morality. “What do you suggest?” she asked in a whisper. Roco smiled, the smile of a hungry wolf.

He walked towards the serum stand that was slowly dripping on Lisandro’s bird. I suggest that nature needs a little push.

Kill him. And Sadora swallowed hard. There are cameras, Roco. There are autopsies. Think, woman. Roco took a sterile syringe that was in the medical supplies tray. He’s already in critical condition.

A heart attack would be perfectly normal in his condition, or better yet, an accidental overdose of his medication. Isadora looked at the syringe and then at Lisandro.

How do we do it if she suspects me? She won’t suspect you, Roco said, approaching her. She’ll suspect the incompetent woman who almost killed her today, the maid. Alondra. Exactly.

Roco began searching through the vials of medicine. He took a bottle of concentrated potassium and another of strong sedatives. Look, the plan is simple.

 We prepared a lethal cocktail. We injected it into the IV; his heart stopped in 2 minutes, pain-free, fast. Then we cleaned the syringe and put it on the maid’s cleaning cart.

Or better yet, we slip it into his lapel pocket while he sleeps. And Sadora smiled slowly. The idea was macabre, but perfect.

 She solved her two problems in one fell swoop, got rid of Lisandro, and eliminated Lodra. “You’re a wicked little geezer, Roco,” Isadora said, kissing him. “Do it, do it now. I want to be a widow before dawn.”

From the bathroom, Alodra felt her legs give way. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to kill him right now.

 Terror paralyzed her for a second, but the image of the orphaned children and the hands of these murderers shook her. She couldn’t allow it. There was no time to go to the police.

There was no time to call anyone. He saw through the screen how Roco carried the syringe with a transparent liquid. He saw how he expelled the air from the needle with a small jet that shone under the light.

 He saw Isadora caressing Lisandro’s arm to expose the trabecular path. Goodbye, dear, Isadora whispered. Thank you for the money. Roco brought the needle to the injection port of the serum.

No. The scream came from Alodra’s throat before she could think about it. She kicked open the bathroom door and launched herself into the room like a missile.

Isadora and Roco jumped in fright. Isadora screamed. Alodra didn’t stop, she ran towards Roco and pushed him with all her body weight.

Roco, surprised by the repeated attack, stumbled and the syringe flew from his hand, fell to the floor and rolled under the bed. “Murderers!” he shouted

Alodra, placing herself between the bed and the two criminals, with her arms outstretched in a cross to protect Lisandro. Don’t touch him.

 I know what she’s doing. I have it on video. Roco recovered quickly. His surprise turned into blind rage. “Nosy cat!” roared. “Roco. Catch her!” shrieked Isadora.

Tieпe up teleпo. Dice qυe grajó. Aloпdra iпteпtó correr hacia la puerta del pasillo, pero Roco era muхcho más rápida y fuerte. La alpпzó eп dos zпcadas.

 He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her violently backward. Alodra fell to the ground, hitting her head on the wood. The telephone slid out of her reach.

 “Leave me alone!” Alodra screamed, kicking and scratching Roco’s face. “Shut up!” Roco punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Alodra doubled over in pain, gasping for breath.

Isadora ran to pick up Alodra’s phone. She tried to unlock it, but it was locked. “Destroy it!” Roco ordered while pinning Alodra to the ground with his knee.

And pass me the other syringe. Let’s finish this now, we’re going to make her look truly guilty.

 We’ll inject her with a little. We’ll also say she got high and went crazy and attacked the Lord. Self-defense, Isadora. Self-defense.

Lisandro listened to the struggle, the blows, Alodra’s muffled cry. He felt the vibration of the fight on the floor through the bed frame. His control was breaking down. “That’s enough,” he thought.

 He had already gone too far, but he had to wait for the exact moment. If he got up now, Roco might have a weapon or he might use Alodra de Reep. He needed Roco to come closer to him.

She needed to have it within reach. “Hold it tight,” Isadora said, searching for another syringe in the tray. “I’ll prepare his dose first.”

Alodra, with blood in her mouth and half-conscious, raised her head. She looked at Lisandro. “Sir,” she moaned weakly. “Wake up, run.” Isadora approached the bed with a loaded syringe.

Her hands trembled, but her gaze was full of murderous determination. “This time you won’t fail, Alondra,” Isadora said, looking at the employee on the floor.

 “Because you’ll have the syringe in your hand when the police arrive.” Isadora raised the needle to Lisandro’s arm. “Good night, prince.” The needle descended, but it barely touched his skin.

In the last millisecond, Isadro’s hand, which had been immobile for 36 hours, shot out like a snake and grabbed Isadora’s wrist with crushing force.

Isadora’s eyes opened so wide they seemed about to burst. A scream caught in her throat. Lisandro opened his eyes. There was no dream in them, only fire.

“I don’t think it’s time to sleep,” Lisandro grunted in a cavernous voice, squeezing Isadora’s wrist until the bone cracked. The syringe fell to the floor.

 Time stood still in the room. Roco, who had Alodra immobilized, looked up.

Pale as a corpse, seeing the body rise from the bed, tearing the wires from its chest as if they were cobwebs, the lion had awakened and was hungry for justice.

The creaking of Isadora’s doll echoed like a dry gunshot in the silence of the room, followed immediately by a sharp shriek that made the windows vibrate.

“Ah. Let me go,” Isadora cried, falling to her knees from the immense pressure Lisandro was exerting on her bone. The syringe with the vepeo rolled along the floor, moving dangerously farther away.

Lisandro sat up in bed with his bare torso and the electrodes hanging like cut wires from a rebellious android.

 His face was pale from the days of immobility, but his eyes, injected with blood, burned with a primitive fury.

“Did you think you could kill me in my own house?” roared Lisandro with a hoarse voice, his throat dry, but with the authority of a vegetative god.

Roco, who had been subjected to Alodra on the ground, was paralyzed for a fraction of a second, processing the impossible.

The vegetable was talking. The dead man was breaking his lover’s hand. Roco, kill him. Do something, you idiot.

Isadora shrieked through tears of pain, trying to scratch Lisandro’s iron hand with her free hand.

Roco reacted, let go of Alodra and threw himself towards the bed, taking out an automatic knife from his back pocket.

 The glint of steel crossed the air. “Watch out, sir!” Alodra shouted from the ground, her voice hoarse. Lisandro saw the attack coming.

He tried to dodge it, but his body didn’t respond with its usual speed. His muscles, numb after almost 48 hours of absolute stillness, failed him. Although his mind was alert, his legs were like lead.

 Roco grabbed his shoulder, punched Lisandro in the chest, and slammed him back against the solid wood headboard. The impact knocked the wind out of Lisadro.

 Isadora took advantage of the moment to free her doll, which was now hanging in a natural abyss, swelling rapidly.

“Cut his throat,” Isadora ordered, backing away against the wall, clutching her wounded hand.

 “Abalo de qυe grit!” Roco climbed on top of Lisandro, pressing his arm against his throat, suffocating him while raising the knife with the other hand.

 Lisandro grabbed Roco’s weapon arm with both hands, desperately fighting to keep the blade away from his jugular. His arms were trembling.

 Physical weakness was his worst enemy. “You’re going to die today, you fucking rich bastard,” Rocco growled, drooling from the effort, bringing the knife point centimeter by centimeter.

Suddenly, a small but ferocious figure crashed into Roco’s back. It was Alodra. She had grabbed the heavy metal lamp from the bedside table and, with a war cry, smashed it against the attacker’s head.

Let it go. The blow was solid. Roco roared in pain, dropping the knife and bringing his hands to his head, from where blood began to flow.

He turned blind with rage and with a brutal backhand struck Alodra in the face, throwing her against the wardrobe. Alodra fell unconscious, sliding to the floor like a rag doll.

 “No!” shouted Lisandro, feeling a wave of adrenaline that broke his paralysis.

Coп хп esfυerzo sobrehυmaпo, Lisaпdro aprovevó la distracióп de Roco para darle хпa patada eп el estómago, laпzáпdolo fuхiera de la cama. 

Lisandro tried to stand up, but his knees gave way and he fell to the ground gasping. Chaos reigned.

 Furniture overturned, blood on the white sheets, the sound of the three of them breathing heavily. Then, a distant but unmistakable sound pierced the walls of the mansion.

“Woof, woof. Mermaids.” The police gasped Isadora, pale as paper. “The neighbors must have heard my screams.”

 Roco, dazed and dizzy, looked at Isadora copaic. Let’s go, we know you’ll go. No. Isadora, despite the pain in her wrist, had a flash of pure evil.

His psychopathic brain calculated the probabilities in milliseconds. If she fled, they were guilty. If she stayed, she was the victim. We can’t flee. He would hunt us down.

 We have to change history. And Sadora ran towards the syringe that was on the ground, picked it up with a handkerchief so as not to leave any more traces and walked quickly towards Alodra’s unconscious body.

“What are you doing?” asked Roco, wiping the blood off. Isadora placed the syringe in Alodra’s open hand, closing her fingers around the plastic.

 Then she tore her own silk blouse, exposing her shoulder, and disheveled her hair even more. “Listen to me carefully, Rocco,” Isadora said, looking him straight in the eyes. “You came to visit me.”

We heard noises. We went upstairs and found the maid attacking Lisandro. She went crazy, injected him with an overdose of stimulants, and he had a psychotic break and attacked me.

 You only defended me. And the knife is hers. Put it aside quickly. Rocío extended. He kicked the knife towards Alodra.

Lisandro, crawling on the ground, tried to reach the panic button on the wall, but it was too far away. He heard the plaí, he heard the lie that was being woven.

“You rats,” Lisandro stammered, trying to get up, but the effort of the fight had left him at the limit of his strength.

 His vision blurred. “Stay there, darling,” Isadora said, giving him a kick in the ribs that made him cough. “When the police arrive, you’ll be so shaken up that no one will believe you.”

The knocks on the main door echoed down. “Police Abraham.”

Isadora threw herself to the ground next to the bed, hugged her knees and began to emit a false, sharp and terrifying cry, worthy of the best soap opera actress.

 Help, please. She’s going to kill us. The maid is crazy. The bedroom door blew to pieces after a kick from the tactical team.

Three police officers, with their weapons unloaded, sweeping the room with their tactical letters, illuminating the crime scene perfectly staged by Isadora.

 “Hands up, on the ground!” the officer shouted to the crowd. The scene they found was blurry and violet.

Lisandro, the owner of the house, was on the ground, half-naked, sweating and with a lost look, a product of extreme exhaustion and shock, unable to babble unintelligible words.

Aloпdra yacía iпcoпscieпte eп υп riпcóп coп υпa jeriпga eп la maпo y υп kυchillo cerca.

 Roco stood with his hands raised high, clutching his head, pretending to be terrified. And Isadora wept hysterically in the corner, holding her broken wrist.

“Don’t shoot!” Roco shouted. “I’m a victim. That woman attacked us. Secure the perimeter,” the sergeant ordered. “Request paramedics now.” Two officers rushed at Lisandro.

 Upon seeing him stand up and point at Isadora with a trembling finger, I interpreted his spasmodic movements as aggression.

No, she, she’s lying, Lisandro tried to shout, but his voice came out as an incomprehensible grunt. “Sir, stay still,” the policeman ordered, pressing his knee against Lisandro’s back.

 and handcuffing his hands behind his back. “He’s being detained for security. Careful, he’s drugged!” Isadora shouted between sobs, limping towards the police officers. The employee, that woman, injected him with something.

She wanted to kill him to rob us. I tried to stop her and she broke my wrist. Look at my hand. The policeman looked at Isadora’s deformed wrist and then at the sweet maid unconscious with the syringe.

 The visual evidence was incriminating. “Handcuff the woman,” ordered the sergeant pointing at Alodra. An officer roughly lifted Alodra from the ground.

She began to wake up, dazed from the blow to her head, blinking at the blinding lights. “What? Where are the children?” was the first thing she whispered, disoriented.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the officer recited as he fastened the metal handcuffs around his wrists, tightening them firmly. “Anything you say can be used against you.”

Alodra looked around and saw the nightmare. She saw Lisandro handcuffed on the floor looking at her in despair. She saw Isadora smiling subtly behind the handkerchief with which she was drying her tears.

 “No, I didn’t do anything,” Alodra shouted, suddenly opening the trap. “They tried to kill him. Check the cameras. I have a video on my cell phone.” “The cell phone!” Isadora shouted quickly.

He destroyed it. He broke it.

When I discovered it stolen, an officer kicked the remains of Alodra’s cell phone that was on the ground with the screen shattered by the stomp that Roco had discreetly given it before I entered.

“It looks like there was a fierce fight,” the police officer said.

“Take her away. Charges of attempted murder and serious bodily harm. Don’t touch me, Mr. Lisandro. Tell them,” he begged Lodra as he dragged her towards the door.

 Lisandro was fighting against his own wives, gradually regaining his breath.

 “Let her go,” Lisandro managed to say, his voice clearer. “This time, that woman saved my life. She’s the criminal,” he shouted, pointing at Isadora with his head. The police stopped, confused.

Yadora reacted instantly. She threw herself onto the chest of one of the officers, crying louder. She is stunned. The bullet affected her brain.

 Doctor, do something. A team of paramedics had just entered, seeing the agitated patient, shouting incoherent things and with the false medical history of coma that Isadora was shouting at them, they acted according to protocol.

Male patient, post, state of severe psychomotor agitation. Administer 10,000 g of diasepam, ordered the paramedic.

“No, don’t touch me,” Lisandro roared. “Listen to me.” Before he could say more, he felt the jab on his shoulder.

The sedative, potent and rapid, began to run through his veins, extinguishing his fire, clouding his mind. His eyelids became heavy.

“Alodra”, Lisandro whispered, feeling his body collapse into the arms of the doctors.

 Alodra, from the door, saw how he gave himself to his only witness, to his only hope. His eyes met his for a last second before he was taken away on the stretcher.

“Mrs. Isadora Valdés, we need you to accompany us to give your statement,” said the sergeant, treating her with the delicacy reserved for wealthy victims.

For that matter, officer,” said Isadora, holding her wrist. “I just want justice to be done. “That criminal almost killed him.”

As he led Alodra out of the mansion, handcuffed like a murderer, she looked towards the second-floor window. The twins were alone upstairs, alone in the house with the police and soon with Isadora.

“My children, don’t leave the children with her!” Alodra shouted as she put her in the patrol car. The door closed silently, silencing her screams. The patrol car drove off, taking the idiot away.

The ambulance started up, taking the sedated owner of the truth away. And Sadora remained on the porch of the mansion, surrounded by blue lights while a paramedic bandaged her wrist.

 Roco was beside her with a bandage on his head, smoking a cigarette that a policeman had offered him to calm his nerves. Isadora looked at Roco and smiled. A smile twisted by pain, but triumphant.

“It almost got out of hand,” Roco whispered. “Almost,” she replied, “But now it’s perfect. He’s in the psychiatric hospital, she’s in jail, and I’m…

 I am the legal guardian of everything. Tomorrow we send the brats to boarding school and sell the house.” But Isadora made a mistake, a fatal mistake.

He forgot that the mansion was intelligent and he forgot that although Alondra’s cell phone was broken and Lisandro was sedated,

There was a system that Lisandro had activated with his voice days ago, a system that didn’t depend on cameras, but on the public.

 Inside the house, in Lisandro’s office, a small green light was blinking on the central server.

The audio recording of the last 48 hours had finished uploading to a secure external server and a copy had been automatically sent to the email address of Lisandro’s personal lawyer regarding the matter.

“If something happens to me, open this.

The war hadn’t ended, it had only changed battlefields. Subscribe to see the trial, the revelation of the hidden evidence, and the final fate of the wicked Isadora.

The smell of antiseptic was the first thing that hit Lisandro. It wasn’t the smell of wood and the bathroom of his home, but Isadora’s cloying perfume.

 It was the sterile, cold smell of a hospital. He opened his eyes heavily. Everything was spinning.

The sedative that he had injected continued to fill his mind, making his limbs feel as if they were made of cement.

She blinked several times, trying to focus her gaze on the white ceiling. Where? Her voice came out raspy. Weak.

 “Don’t worry, sir, he’s in the central hospital,” said a young nurse adjusting the IV in his arm. He had a severe psychotic episode at home. The police brought him in last night.

He needs to rest until the psychiatrist evaluates him. The word “police” triggered Lisandro’s memory like a nuclear bomb.

 The images returned suddenly. Alodra beaten on the ground, Roco with the knife and Sadora pretending to be the victim, the handcuffs closing on the wrists of the only woman who had defended her children.

“The children!” Lisandro shouted, sitting up abruptly. The sudden movement made his heart rate spike and the dizziness almost made him fall back onto the pillow.

I have to get out of here, sir. Don’t move. Security. The nurse backed away in fear, pressed against the wall.

“I’m not crazy!” roared Lisandro, tearing the IV pole from his arm. The blood stained the white sheets, but he didn’t care.

She staggered out of bed with her hospital gown open at the back.

I need my phone right now. Two strange security guards in the room, big men used to dealing with aggressive patients.

“Sir, go back to bed or we’ll have to restrain you,” the taller one warned. Lisandro leaned against the wall to avoid falling.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the chemistry that was trying to knock him down, and adopted the posture of authority that he used in the directives, that look that could freeze the iron.

 “Listen carefully,” said Lisandro with a terrifying calm. “My name is Lisandro Montepenegro. I own half the buildings in this city.”

If it touches me, if it prevents me from leaving this room for one more second, I swear I will spend every penny of my fortune demanding this hospital until there is no sign left at the entrance.

 My fiancée tried to kill me last night and kidnapped my children. Give me my damn phone. The guards will…

The authority in his voice was not that of a madman, it was that of a desperate and powerful man.

“It’s in the personal effects bag, on the table,” said the trembling nurse, pointing to a transparent plastic bag. Lisandro lunged at it and took out his smartphone. It had 3% battery.

Enough, he thought. He dialed Roberto’s number, his lawyer and lifelong friend. Lisandro, what’s wrong? It’s 6 in the morning, Roberto answered sleepily. Shut up and listen.

I am in the central hospital. Isadora and her lover tried to kill me. Alodra, the pineapple woman, is in the police station accused justly.

 Isadora has the twins and plans to get rid of them today. What, Lisandro? Are you okay? Isadora called me last night.

“He said you had a mental breakdown. That’s a lie,” shouted Lisandro, walking barefoot into the hospital corridor, ignoring the doctors’ stares.

“Roberto, check your email. The house security system sent you an audio and video backup a few hours ago.

The subject says, “If something happens to me.” There was silence on the other end of the line, only the frantic tapping of a computer could be heard.

Lisandro reached the elevator and repeatedly hit the button. “Damn it, open up, my God,” Roberto whispered into the phone. His tone had changed from skepticism to pure horror.

“Lisadro, I’m watching the hidden camera video from the office. He’s talking about the injection, the overdose. He’s confessing to the trap at the pineapple.”

Call the attorney general, call the chief of police. I want an arrest warrant and I want Alodra out of the cell right now. I’m going to the mansion.

 Don’t go alone, Lisandro. That old thug is dangerous. I’m going for my children, Roberto. If that bastard keeps coming to my house, he’ll wish the police got there before I did.

Lisandro hung up. The elevator doors opened. He stepped out into the main lobby. Barefoot, wearing a blood-stained robe, his eyes blazing with fury. A taxi driver who was dropping off a passenger looked at him with fear.

 “You?” Lisandro climbed into the back seat of the taxi. “Take me to Lomas del Valle quickly. I’ll give you $1,000 if we get there in 10 minutes.”

While the taxi devoured the asphalt in the Montepegro mansion, the drama reached its critical point.

Isadora was in the room, impeccably dressed in white, as if the outside night of blood and vulment had existed.

 Roco was beside them with a bandage on his head, drinking coffee and looking out the window. In front of them, on the floor, were two black garbage bags. Inside were Tiago and Mateo’s clothes.

“It’s about time,” Isadora said, looking at her watch. “The interned man’s truck should have arrived five minutes ago.” “Are you sure he’s an interned man?” Rock asked, running.

 “For what you paid, it seems more like a juvenile delinquent prison. It’s a place of strict discipline in the mountains,” Isadora replied, with a touch of difference.

He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t allow visits, and most importantly, he doesn’t return the money perfectly so that those brats learn not to get in the way.

At that moment the twins’ cries were heard from the upper plaza.

 They had been alone for hours, without food, without anyone changing them. “Someone shut those beasts up!” Isadora shouted. “Calm down, Mom! They’re here!” Roco pointed towards the entrance.

A gray van with logos and polarized glass entered through the main port and stopped in front of the door.

Two burly men, dressed in worn gray suits, with expressionless faces.

They didn’t look like educators, they looked like jailers. “Go get the children,” Isadora ordered as she opened the front door. “They’re upstairs, first door on the right. Take them quickly.”

I don’t want goodbyes. The men stood and climbed the stairs with heavy steps.

Miles away, in a cold, damp cell at the District 4 police station, Alodra was sitting on the cement floor, hugging her knees.

 She hadn’t slept. Her eyes were dry from crying so much. She had taken off her shoelaces and her sweater. “My children,” she whispered, swaying.

“Holy Virgin, protect my children.” The metal bars of her cell clanged with a sharp bang. A guard opened the door. “Get up, inmate, you have a visitor.”

Loпdra raised her eyes hoping to see a public defender or perhaps someone who was going to tell her that she would be sentenced to 20 years.

But who was the lawyer, it was the principal commissioner accompanied by Roberto, Lisandro’s lawyer.

“Mrs. Alondra,” Roberto said, extending his hand. “I am Mr. Montepegro’s lawyer. We’ve come to get you out of here.” Mr. Lisandro Alodra jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain in his ribs.

 “He’s fine,” he woke up. “He woke up and he’s very angry,” the lawyer said with a grim smile. “And we have proof of his hypocrisy, commissioner, take off the handcuffs now.”

As the guard removed her shackles, Alondra grabbed Roberto’s arm desperately. “We have to go to the house. She’s going to take the children.”

“He said he would send them away this morning. Mr. Lisandro is already on his way,” said Roberto. “And we’re following behind with three patrol cars. We’re going to hunt that witch down.”

Lodra didn’t wait. She ran out of the cell before the police themselves, driven by a force that only a mother of blood or heart can have.

 At the mansion, the men in gray came down the stairs. Each one carried a baby under his arm as if they were packages. Tiago and Mateo screamed and kicked, terrified by the strangers.

“Be careful with the merchandise, or the boys before they arrive,” Roco joked. Isador affirmed a paper that one of the men extended to him. “Here you have temporary custody. Disappear.”

The men walked towards the open door. The morning sun illuminated the exit, the last step before the twins were lost in a corrupt and cruel system.

But just as the first man put his foot on the porch, a taxi skidded violetly into the entrance of Grava, coming within centimeters of the gray van.

 The taxi door swung open.

Lisandro came down, looking like a vegetative specter, barefoot in a hospital gown, exposed to the wind, his bare chest showing the bruises from the fight and a look that promised death.

Let go of my children. Lisandro’s cry was so powerful that the birds flew from the trees and from the door he felt that his legs were turning to jelly.

 The champagne glass he was holding slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. “Impossible,” he whispered. “I should be sedated.”

Lisandro didn’t stop. He walked straight towards the men in gray.

The man holding Mateo, a 2m tall guy with scars on his face, looked at Lisandro with disdain. He saw a man in a hospital gown, barefoot and seemingly weak.

 “Get out of the way, you madman,” growled the homeless man, pushing Lisandro with his free shoulder. It was a mistake. Lisandro wasn’t weak.

The adrenaline rush of seeing her children in the arms of strangers had burned away any trace of sedatives in her system.

With a fluid and brutal movement, Lisandro dodged the push, grabbed the man’s arm and applied a twist lock to his elbow.

 The cracking sound was audible. The man screamed and let go of Mateo. Lisandro caught his son in midair with his other hand before he touched the ground, hugging him tightly to his chest.

“Back,” Lisandro roared to the second man, who, seeing the ferocity in the millionaire’s eyes and his companion writhing on the ground, gently released Tiago from the porch sofa and raised his hands.

“Roco, do something!” Isadora shrieked from the doorway, backing away from the house. Tie the children.

Roco came out with the knife in his hand, desperate. He knew that if Lisandro took control, his life was over. “You should have died, you wretch!” Roco shouted, lunging at Lisandro.

 Lisandro, with Mateo by the arm, could not fight freely. He turned to protect the child with his back, but it was not necessary.

The wail of sirens filled the air. Three police patrol cars and a black pickup truck sped through the gate, blocking the exit. A dry, dusty breeze rose.

 From the first patrol car he went down to Lodra, running even before the vehicle came to a complete stop.

“Don’t touch them!” she yelled, running toward the porch. Behind her, a dozen armed officers deployed, pointing at Roco and the men in the van. “Police, drop your weapon!” the officers shouted.

 Roco was frozen, staring at the weapons he was pointing at. The knife fell from his hand, clattering against the stone floor.

He raised his hands slowly, defeated. Lisandro reached Lodra. She was disheveled with the dirty clothes from the cell, but her face lit up when she saw the children safe.

 “Lord, the children,” he cried, taking Tiago from the sofa and then extending his arms towards Mateo, who was in his father’s arms.

Lisandro handed her the baby, and in that exchange of glances there was more communication than a thousand words. Thank you, his eyes said.

“Always,” she replied. “Extremes,” Lisandro said, breathing heavily.

This ends now. Lisandro and Lodra, along with the twins and the lawyer Roberto, entered the main courtroom, followed by the commissioner and several officers.

Isadora stood by the fireplace, trembling, pale, but still wearing her mask of arrogance.

Officers, “Thank God you arrived,” Isadora said with a trembling voice, making a last desperate move.

 This madman escaped from the hospital, assaulted these transport workers, and kidnapped the children. “He’s dangerous.” The commissioner looked at her with an unreadable expression.

“Transportation employees?” asked the commissioner, pointing outside where he was arresting the men in gray. “Those men have a history of human trafficking, Mrs. Valdés.”

 Isadora swallowed hard. I didn’t know. I hired a pet service. They tricked me. Enough with the lies. Lisandro’s voice echoed in the high-ceilinged room.

 Lisandro walked over to the enormous 85-inch television that dominated the room. He took out his phone and connected it wirelessly. “Do you want to tell the police what really happened, Isadora?”

Or would you prefer we all watch it together in 4K? Isadora tried to run towards the back door, but two officers blocked her way. No, that’s illegal.

 “You can’t record me in my privacy!” he yelled, completely losing his temper. Lisandro pressed play. The gigapixel screen lit up. The audio filled the room with crystal clarity.

Image. Master bedroom. Isadora and Roco in bed. Roco’s voice. Kill him. There are cameras, Roco. There are autopsies. Isadora’s voice. We prepared a lethal cocktail.

 We injected it into the IV. Then we cleaned the syringe and put it in the maid’s pocket. The silence in the room was sepulchral, ​​broken only by the recording.

The police listened in astonishment to the coldness of the word. Alodra hugged the children tighter, covering their ears, crying in silence as she listened to how he had planned to incriminate her. The video changed.

Image. Isadora throwing the babies’ milk down the toilet. Isadora’s voice. Let her learn to go hungry. In the military internment she’s not going to have a babysitter. “Turn it off, turn it off.”

Isadora screamed, covering her ears, falling to her knees on the scepter of the Persian rug. It’s a lie. It’s a hoax. Artificial intelligence.

The commissioner gave a signal. Mrs. Isadora Valdés, you are under arrest for attempted aggravated homicide, criminal conspiracy, child abuse, false accusation, and fraud.

An officer approached, roughly lifted her from the ground, and placed the handcuffs on her, this time without gentleness. Isadora looked at Lisandro with eyes full of pure hatred. I hate you.

 I hate you, Lisandro. I wish you were dead. Lisandro approached her, looking down at her with glacial calm. My only mistake was not seeing the monster you were.

 But don’t worry, Isadora. My lawyers will make sure you spend the rest of your youth and old age in a cell where there are no servants, no champagne, no escape.

 And you, Isadora, she spat at Lodra. Starving. You ruined everything. You were nobody. Lodra, with Tiago on one arm and Mateo on the other, raised her chin. There was no fear left in her.

“I am the person who loves these children,” Alondra replied with dignity. “And that is something all her money could buy.”

They took Isadora Rastras away, screaming and cursing, losing her designer shoes along the way.

 Rocco was brought out with his head down, handcuffed and shackled. The room fell silent. The officers began taking photos and collecting evidence.

Lisandro slumped onto the sofa, exhaustion finally taking its toll. His whole body ached, his arm where he had pulled out the IV line bled, and he felt as if the world was spinning.

 Alodra approached him, sat beside him, and placed the babies on her lap. The babies, feeling their father, immediately calmed down, grasping his fingers.

“We did it, sir,” he whispered to Lodra, wiping a drop of sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of his dirty piform hat. “We’re safe.” Lisandro looked at his safe and sound children.

 He looked at the woman who had risked her freedom and her life for them. He felt the same emotion that Paula had felt with Isadora, even at the beginning.

He felt gratitude, he felt respect and he felt something more, something warm and deep comforting in his shattered chest.

No, Alondra, said Lisandro, taking her hand, that rough, hardworking hand, and squeezing it with his two hands. You saved yourself.

 You are the miracle of this family. Lisandro closed his eyes for a moment, feeling peace for the first time in days.

The nightmare was over, but he knew he had an unpayable debt to the woman in blue who was by his side, and he planned to pay it back dearly.

Subscribe to see the emotional finale, Alodra’s transformation, and the surprise Lisandro has in store for her.

 A month later, a month later, the Montepegro mansion no longer resembled the ice castle where Isadora’s terror reigned. The air was different.

It smelled of fresh flowers, polished wood wax, and above all, home-cooked food. There were no more shouts, no more slamming doors, no more the threatening sound of needle-like heels echoing through the hallways like knives.

 In the back garden, under the shade of a cedar oak, an elegant table had been set. It was not a gala party for hundreds of hypocritical guests, it was an intimate dinner.

White linen tablecloths, porcelain tableware that had been stored for years and candles that flickered in the soft breeze of the sunset.

Alodra was standing in front of the full-length mirror in the guest room. Her new room was wearing a deep blue silk dress, the same shade as her former piform.

But this was a servant’s garment. It was a designer dress that Lisandro had ordered exclusively for her.

 She felt strange, she looked at her hands, she was no longer wearing the yellow rubber gloves.

But the scars from the attack were still there, marks on her knees that reminded her that it had all been real. “You look beautiful.” Alodra startled and turned away.

Lisandro was at the threshold of the open door.

 He was no longer the pale, dying man of a month ago, but the stodgy, blood-covered vampire. He wore an impeccable gray suit, but without a tie, with the top button of his shirt undone.

She looked healthy, strong, but her eyes held a new gentleness, a humility that was previously foreign to her. “Sir, I’m not used to this.” She stammered to Lodra, smoothing the skirt of her dress with feigned politeness.

I feel like I’m playing dress-up. I should be preparing dinner, but I feel like eating it. Lisandro entered the room, walked to her, but invaded her space.

He stopped at a respectful distance. “The dinner was prepared by the chef I hired,” Lisandro said gently. “And you’re never going to have to clean a floor again in your life, Lodra.”

 “I promised you.” But, Mr. Lisandro, he corrected, please, after you saved my life, after you took a beating for my children, sir, it’s insulting. Call me Lisandro.

He offered her his arm. Alodra hesitated a second, still struggling against years of social and professional covetousness, but finally intertwined her arm with his.

 The contact was electric. They went down the stairs together, not as boss and employee, but as equals. In the garden, the twins, Tiago and Mateo, were playing on a mat spread out on the lawn.

He laughed heartily, chasing soap bubbles that floated in the air. He looked chubby, happy, with rosy cheeks.

 Far away were those pale, hungry babies crying for a little milk. Upon seeing Alodra, the two children stood up, staggering, and ran towards her with their clumsy little steps.

“Mom! Mom, Alo!” she shouted at the top of the stairs. Alodra’s heart leaped. She let go of Lisandro and bent down to receive the impact of the two small bodies that threw themselves into her arms.

 “My loves, be careful, don’t fall,” she laughed, kissing them loudly, forgetting about the expensive dress and makeup. Lisandro watched the scene with a lump in his throat.

That was the image she had dreamed of for years and thought she would have. Isadora had never hugged the children like that. She treated them like annoying accessories.

 Alodra treated them like treasures.

“Sit down, please,” Lisandro said, inviting her to the table once the children returned to their toys under the watchful eye of a new auxiliary nurse, treated under the strict supervision of Alodra.

The dinner was about conversations that for the first time were about medicines, schedules or cleanings.

talk about Alodra’s life, about her dreams of studying medicine that she had to abandon, about her family and her country.

Lisandro listened with devout attention, fascinated by the intelligence and beauty of the woman he had woven under his face all the time without really seeing her.

When dessert was served, Lisandro became serious, placed his wine glass on the table and took a thick, mellow-colored envelope from the outside of his jacket.

 The atmosphere changed. Alodra felt a cold in her stomach. It’s the fi, she thought with fear. It’s the settlement check.

He’s going to give me money and ask me to leave so he can rebuild his life with someone of his class. “I have news about the trial,” said Lisandro, placing his hand on the envelope. “Today they will dictate the sentence.”

 “Alodra held her breath. Isadora was sentenced to 35 years in prison with no possibility of conditional release,” Lisandro explained with a firm voice.

“The charges of homicide, fraud and child abuse were proven thanks to your testimony and the recordings.

Roco received 25 years and the men in the van, well, that trafficking network has been completely dismantled.

 Alodra released the air she had been holding. “Thank God,” she whispered, chasing herself. She was afraid that she would find a way out, that she would come back for the children.

 She’ll never go near them again. I swear. Lisandro pushed the envelope toward her across the table. But that’s not the only thing I have to discuss with you.

Alodra looked at the envelope with fear. Her hands trembled as she took it. Open it, please. Alodra broke the seal and took out the documents.

It was legal papers full of legal terminology, official seals, and signatures. He read the heading and his eyes widened in disgrace.

It wasn’t a check, but it was a dismissal letter, it was a full adoption request and a fide and confiscation agreement.

 “What? What is this?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“Your papers,” Lisandro began to explain, leaning towards the front, “you are legally recognized as the adoptive mother of Tiago and Mateo.”

If you agree to sign, you will have the same rights to them as I do. No one can separate you from them. Not me, not the law, not anyone.

“Alodra put her hand to her mouth, tears suddenly bursting forth.

“And the second document,” he stipulated, “grants you 20% of my company’s shares, either as a gift, or as retroactive payment and compensation for damages.”

I want you to have your own property, I want you to be an independent, powerful woman, that you can study medicine if you want, that you can bring your mother here and give her the best life possible.

Lisandro, this is too much. I can’t accept money. I did it for love. Soyosó Alodra stuck her head. Lisandro got up from his chair, walked around the table and knelt beside her.

He didn’t care about staining his thousand-dollar suit on the grass. He took Alondra’s hands in his own. I know.

 I know you did it for love and that’s precisely why you deserve the whole world. Lisandro looked into her eyes with an intensity that burned his soul.

I lived blind in Lodra. I thought that love was a woman elegant who knew how to behave in society.

I thought success was having the bank account full, but when I fell to the ground that day, when I pretended to be dead, I saw the truth.

 I saw the garbage that was my life and I saw the diamond that was you. Lisandro paused, swallowing hard, visibly moved. You saved my life, literally, but you also saved my heart.

You taught me what loyalty is. You taught me what it means to be a father. I don’t want you to be just the legal mother of my children. I don’t want you to be my business partner.

Alodra stared at him, unable to move, mesmerized by his words. “I want you to be my partner,” said Lisandro, taking a small black velvet box from his pocket.

It was not an ostentatious and vulgar robe like the one he had given to Isadora.

It was a delicate little jacket with a deep blue sapphire surrounded by small diamonds, a jacket that recalled the color of its shape, the color of its courage.

 Alodra, I know it’s soon. I know I’m a complicated man and that I come with a lot of baggage, but I love you. I fell in love with you seeing you defend my children like a lioness.

I fell in love with you when you gave me your food and were still hungry. Lisandro opened the box.

Would you do me the honor of staying by my side, either as the pine tree, or as the savior, or as the lady of this house, as my wife?

The silence in the garden was absolute, broken only by the distant laughter of the twins and the chirping of the crickets.

Alodra looked at the awl, then at the happy children playing, and finally looked into the eyes of the man who was kneeling in front of her. She saw in him absolute sincerity.

He saw a man who had learned life’s hardest lesson and had come out transformed.

 I, Alondra, smiled through tears. A smile that lit up the night more than all the candles. I’m just a simple girl, Lisandro. You are the queen of this family, he replied.

Yes, Alodra said forcefully. Yes, I accept.

I accept being the mother of those children officially and I accept accepting it with you because I believe that deep down you also have a good heart, only it was asleep.

Lisandro smiled a pure smile of relief and slid the pin onto his finger. It fit perfectly. He stood up and, taking her face in both hands, kissed her.

It wasn’t a movie kiss, rehearsed and cold.

It was a tender kiss, full of promises, gratitude, and love that had happened in the middle of the darkest storm. “Ew,” cried a little voice.

Lisandro and Alodra separated, laughing. Tiago and Mateo were standing next to them, looking at them curiously and making faces. Lisandro crouched down and opened his arms.

Come here, monsters. The two children launched into a hug. Alodra joined them. The four of them melted into a group hug on the grass under the stars.

 υпa strange family made up of broken pieces qυe habíaп eпcajado perfectameпste, υп millopario qυe apreпdió a ver,

Ѕпa empleado qпvertió eп reiпa y dos пiños qЅe se salvaroп gracias a la fЅerza más poderosa del Ѕпiverso, el iпstiпto de proteger.

As the camera zoomed out into the October sky, Lisandro’s voice was heard one last time, soft and firm.

 Welcome home, my love. Welcome to your life.