The millionaire’s mother fell to her knees with her face full of fear.

“Please, stop,” she pleaded through tears.

The fiancée looked at her with contempt, enjoying the power, believing that she could break her in front of everyone, but she did not know that every word, every tear was being heard by someone who does not forgive.

And when the millionaire entered, his gaze made the walls tremble and his fiancée too.

The silence in the mansion was a living, heavy, oppressive entity.

Doña Isabel looked at herself in the monumental mirror of her new room, a space so vast and cold it resembled a luxury mausoleum.

The burgundy dress Alejandro had insisted on buying felt like someone else’s armor. The fabric was an insult to hands accustomed to the roughness of honest work.

She had been sitting on the edge of the bed for an hour, unable to decide whether going down to dinner was an act of bravery or the greatest cowardice. The sound of the door opening without warning made her startle.

Valeria entered without knocking, a habit Isabel was beginning to notice and deeply detest. Her son’s fiancée was already dressed for dinner, wearing a tight white gown that made her resemble a marble statue.

Her eyes, however, held no warmth of a future daughter-in-law, only the analytical cold of an inspector.

“Aren’t you ready yet, mother-in-law?” Valeria asked, her voice coated in syrup that barely concealed the poison beneath.

Her gaze swept over the simple cotton dress Isabel was still wearing. It was clean and dignified, yet in that environment it screamed humility.

“Alejandro is about to come down,” Valeria said. “He doesn’t want to see you like that.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

Isabel felt the blood rush to her face. Embarrassed. It was clean. It was hers.

“Of course, of course, I didn’t mean to offend,” Valeria said sweetly.

She approached the closet and opened it wide, revealing the wine-colored dress.

“It’s just that Alejandro took such care buying this for you.”

“He wants you to shine.”

“To look like a millionaire’s mother.”

“Not like… well, you know.”

“Put it on.”

“Go on.”

“It will be our little conspiracy to make him happy.”

The phrase was a perfect trap. Refusing would be a direct insult to her son’s generosity.

Isabel nodded silently, feeling cornered. While she changed, Valeria remained in the room, watching, judging. When Isabel finally put on the dress, Valeria circled her like a shark.

“Much better.”

“Now you look like someone.”

“Come on, let’s go down.”

“Lean on me.”

“Don’t fall down the stairs.”

“It would be a real shame to stain such an expensive dress before everyone sees it.”

Valeria’s grip on her arm was firm, almost painful.

A reminder of who was in control. At the bottom of the stairs, Alejandro was waiting with a smile bright enough to light the entire city.

“What a pair of queens,” he said.

“Mom, you look spectacular.”

“Right, my love?”

“Doesn’t she look like a movie star?”

“A star, my life,” Valeria replied.

“I told her she just needed a little push.”

She gave Isabel a meaningful look before guiding her into the dining room. The dining room was a display of opulence that turned Isabel’s stomach.

They sat down. Lucía, the longtime employee who had watched Alejandro grow up, began pouring wine.

She was discreet, observant. The only person in the house who felt real.

“Lucía,” Valeria interrupted suddenly.

“Serve the lady the house wine, please.”

“The one we drink during the week.”

“I doubt she’ll notice the difference.”

“There’s no reason to waste the reserve.”

“Her palate is more traditional.”

Alejandro, distracted by his phone, missed the comment entirely.

Lucía and Isabel did not.

It was a direct humiliation.

A slap of classism disguised as efficiency.

Lucía’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

She nodded and left to fetch the other bottle.

Isabel kept her eyes fixed on her empty plate.

Her cheeks burned.

“Well, family,” Alejandro said, putting his phone away.

“We need to talk about the wedding.”

“I was looking at flower catalogs.”

“What do you think, Mom?”

“Do you like flowers?”

Isabel saw a small opening.

A chance to be herself.

“I’ve always liked daisies,” she said softly.

“They’re simple flowers.”

“But very cheerful.”

“In our courtyard, I had a whole garden of them.”

Valeria let out a crystalline, condescending giggle.

“Oh, how tender,” she said.

“Daisies.”

“What a picturesque memory.”

“For our wedding, we want something more sophisticated.”

“Orchids from Thailand.”

“Maybe black tulips from Holland.”

“Something that reflects our level.”

“You understand.”

“Daisies are lovely.”

“But more suitable for a village baptism.”

Alejandro tried to mediate.

“Well, Mom, tell Vale a story from my childhood.”

“Like when I fell from the guava tree.”

Isabel smiled.

A genuine memory surfaced.

“You were eight.”

“You climbed the highest branch.”

“They had a guava tree?” Valeria interrupted.

“Yes.”

“A very large one in the backyard.”

“Oh.”

“So you had a yard.”

“I thought the house was smaller.”

“Was the roof sheet metal or tile?”

“I’ve heard sheet metal gets unbearably hot.”

Each question was an excavation.

Designed to expose.

To underline her poverty in fluorescent ink.

“It was tile,” Isabel replied shortly.

The dinner continued like that.

Every attempt by Alejandro to include his mother was subtly sabotaged by Valeria.

The tension grew unbearable.

Then came the main course.

Fish in red chili sauce.

“This is my favorite,” Alejandro exclaimed.

“Mom, try it.”

“But be careful.”

“It’s extremely spicy.”

“Your mommy won’t mind, right?” Valeria said sweetly.

“You’re brave people.”

She served Isabel an exaggerated amount of sauce.

Not wanting to offend, Isabel took a bite. The spice exploded like liquid fire. Her throat closed. Air vanished.

Tears flooded her eyes. She reached blindly for her glass of water.

At that exact moment, Valeria stretched her arm. With dancer-like elegance, she slid the glass away. Just a few centimeters.

Enough so Isabel’s fingers couldn’t reach it.

The gesture was so subtle that Alejandro didn’t notice anything at all, but Lucia, who was serving more bread, saw it.

She saw the intention, the calculated malice. Her face hardened like a stone. Isabel was panting, her hand clumsily tapping the tablecloth. Panic was beginning to take hold of her.

Lucia, water for the lady. Quick, Valeria ordered, feigning a sudden alarm. Oh, mother-in-law, for God’s sake, how sensitive it was. I told Alejandro that this was very stingy.

Lucia hurriedly filled the glass and put it in her hands.

Isabel drank desperately. The fresh water a heavenly relief for her burning throat. When she was able to catch her breath, she looked up and saw Valeria looking at her.

In her eyes there was no concern, but a spark of victory. The pure pleasure of having tortured and humiliated her in front of everyone and having gotten away with it.

Later, when Alejandro got up to take a business call in his office, Isabel was left alone with Valeria in the huge room.

The silence was heavy, charged with the undeclared battle that had just been fought.

You saw how easy everything is when you cooperate, mother-in-law,” Valeria said, filing her fingernail indifferently. You smile, nod, eat what is served to you and remain silent.

That way we are all happy and no one gets hurt. It is a very simple role for you.

I suggest that you learn it well and get used to your new place in this family. Now, if you will excuse me, I will see what is offered to my fiancé.”

Valeria got up and left, leaving Isabel alone on the brocade sofa, with the taste of chili and humiliation in her mouth.

and with an icy certainty in her heart. This was not a dinner.

It had been the first of many battles, and she was losing them all. The next morning, sunlight filtered through the mansion’s windows, painting golden pictures on the Persian carpets.

It was a scene of peace and wealth that contrasted violently with the storm brewing inside Isabel.

Breakfast was a meticulously rehearsed play.

Alexander, brimming with energy, talked about his agenda for the day while Valeria poured him coffee and spread jam on his bread, playing the role of the perfect bride-to-be.

He gave Isabel sweet smiles and asked her if she had slept well, questions whose answers did not interest her in the least.

Well, my loves, I have to go. I have a meeting with some Japanese investors that could change the future of the company,” Alejandro said, standing up and adjusting his tie.

He approached Valeria and gave her a long, deep kiss. Then he took out his wallet. “Here, my queen,” he said, handing her a platinum credit card.

“So that you can go shopping with your friends and start looking at things for the decoration of the house. Buy what you want, there is no limit. You deserve it for making me so happy.

Valeria’s eyes shone with a greed that she skillfully disguised as gratitude.

Oh, my life, you wouldn’t have bothered, but thank you. I’ll use it wisely.

Then Alejandro approached his mother and gave her a strong and genuine hug. Behave yourself, mom. Rest, read a book, walk in the garden.

This is also your home, I want you to enjoy it.

I love you very much.

And I will do very well with you, my son, Isabel replied, clinging to that embrace like a castaway to a board. Alejandro left. The sound of the front door closing resounded in the silence and with that sound the spell was broken.

Valeria stood in the middle of the dining room with her credit card in her hand. The smile faded from her face as if it had never existed.

Isabel, who was picking up her plate to take it to the kitchen, felt a chill run down her spine.

I knew what was coming. Valeria didn’t follow her right away.

Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number, speaking loudly enough that Isabel from the kitchen doorway could hear her perfectly. Brenda, friend, you don’t know.

Alejandro has just left me an unlimited card. Yes, without limit. No, of course not. I need it to buy some things for the house and maybe a new bag, the one we saw in the boutique.

Hey, see you for lunch?

I need a break from this house.

Yes, it’s just that it’s a bummer to have to entertain the mummy all day. Yes, to his mother. Oh, it’s a hopeless case, my friend. But hey, it’s all to ensure the future, don’t you think?

See you at one o’clock. Kisses. Every word was a poisoned dart. Mummy.

Securing the future. Isabel entered the kitchen with her heart pounding in her chest. He went straight to his little corner, his sanctuary, looking for the normalcy of his soluble coffee and cookies.

He needed that little ritual to anchor himself, to remember who he was. Valeria entered the kitchen. seconds later, moving with predatory arrogance, he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“You know, Isabel,” he said, “her voice was now a whip.

I’ve decided that I’m not even going to call her mother-in-law anymore. It is a title of respect and affection, and you and I have neither one nor the other. You have not earned that right for yourself.

I am the lady of the house and you are the permanent guest.

He approached the counter where Isabel was preparing her coffee. He looked at the chipped cup, the cheap glass jar. I really don’t understand how Alejandro could get out of so much misery.

This takes this crap. He asked, pointing to the coffee.

Before Isabel could react, Valeria took the jar of coffee, opened it and with an expression of deep disgust, emptied all the contents onto the freshly polished white marble floor.

The dark granules spread like dirty dirt.

This smells of poverty, of conformism, he said as he walked to the trash can and dropped the empty glass jar that produced a hollow, sad sound. I hate conformism and I hate dirt.

Isabel looked at her in horror. But why do you do that? It was my coffee, it was garbage, Valeria shouted, her face contorted with rage.

And I don’t want trash in my house, I don’t want it on my countertops, I don’t want it in my cupboards and if I could I wouldn’t want it breathing my air.

Lucia, attracted by the scream, appeared at the kitchen door with a pale face.

Valeria saw her. You snapped at him.

Clean up this mess and then you’re going to have to disinfect the entire kitchen. Who knows what kind of bacteria this lady brings from her neighborhood? Then he turned to Isabel, his voice dropping to a dangerous sound.

I’m going to give you a list of new rules, since it seems that last night’s rules were not clear to you. Rule number one.

You are forbidden to sit on the sofas in the main room.

They’re Italian silk and I don’t want it to stink up to them.

Rule number two, you are forbidden to talk to my friends if they come to visit. You will lock yourself in your room and not come out until I tell you to.

Rule number three. The pool is for me and my guests, not for you. Rule number four and the most important, he is forbidden to speak to me unless I speak to him first.

Their opinion, their memories and their stories do not interest anyone.

I was clear enough or it needs to be drawn with apples.

Isabel, humiliated in front of Lucia, could not help but nod with tears of anger and helplessness burning her eyes.

Valeria smiled satisfied. Perfect, I’m going shopping.

Lucia, make sure the guest eats in the utility room. Today there are lentils for the staff. Take advantage. Valera left, leaving behind a thick silence and a mess on the ground.

Lucia looked at Isabel, then at the scattered coffee.

Without saying a word, she went for a broom and dustpan and began to clean up. His movements were mechanical, but his eyes were filled with a contained fury.

When he finished, he approached the luxurious espresso machine, the one that Valeria had forbidden Isabel to touch. He brewed a coffee, the strong, delicious aroma filling the air.

He poured it to Isabel in a fine porcelain cup and handed it to her.

“Here, ma’am,” he whispered.

“Sometimes a good coffee helps to withstand the poison. It was a small act of rebellion, a gesture that told Isabel that even though she was in a golden cage, she was not completely alone.”

Isabel climbed the stairs clinging to the polished wooden handrail, as if it were the last lifeline in a raging ocean.

His legs felt weak, gelatinous, and each step was a monumental effort. The assault on the kitchen had emptied it of all strength.

When he reached his room, he turned the latch and leaned against the door, breathing heavily.

She felt like a fugitive in her own life, a prisoner in a luxury prison.

He walked to the large window overlooking the garden, looking for some air, but when he tried to open it, he discovered that the handle was stuck or locked, an insignificant detail that at the time felt like a perfect metaphor for his situation.

Trapped, with no escape. The feeling of claustrophobia was suffocating.

He needed to connect with something real, with something that would remind him that his life had not always been that hell of silk and cruelty.

He knelt beside his old cardboard suitcase and pulled out his treasure box.

He sat on the floor ignoring the softness of the carpet and opened it on his lap.

The smell of old wood and stored paper transported her to another time. First she took out the blue worsted slipper that she had knitted for Alejandro when he was a baby.

It was so small that it would fit in the palm of his hand.

He remembered his clumsy fingers struggling with the needles, the illusion of feeling his little kicks in the belly.

Beside her she placed her husband’s old wristwatch. It hadn’t worked for decades, but he could still feel the warmth of his skin on the worn metal.

He remembered his strong hands, his hoarse laugh, and the immense emptiness he left behind when he left. Alejandro was the only thing she had left of him, the continuation of her love.

Then came the photo of the graduation of elementary school with her toothless and proud child.

and the drawing of the sun.

Each object was an anchor, a reminder of a life of sacrifice and a love so vast that it knew no bounds. It was that love that filled her with a sudden, fiery surge of fury.

How dare that woman trample on everything she stood for? How dare he threaten the only light in his life? The impulse was stronger than the reason.

He took his cell phone.

I couldn’t go on like this. Alejandro had to know the truth. I had to open my eyes.

His thumb trembled as he searched for his contact in the address book. He paused on the call button, his heart pounding with unbridled force. You have to, Isabel, he said to himself in a whisper.

For your son. He has to know what kind of viper he’s going to marry. But a colder, more fearful voice answered in his head.

And if he doesn’t believe you, and if Valeria, with her crocodile tears and well-rehearsed lies, convinces him that you’re crazy, that you’re jealous of an old woman who doesn’t want to let go of her son, you’ll lose him.

He will kick you out of his house and his life, you will be left with nothing, completely alone and he will stay with her, trapped forever.

The dilemma was tearing her apart inside. He was about to press the button, to risk it all in a desperate act when the phone screen lit up with a notification. It was a message from Alejandro.

He opened it. It was a photograph. Alejandro and Valeria were in a jewelry store, both smiling at the camera.

On Valeria’s finger shone an engagement ring even bigger and more dazzling than the one she already had.

Below the photo, a text.

Hi, Mom. Valeria and I decided to bring forward the purchase of the rings. Isn’t it beautiful?

We are choosing the symbol of our eternal happiness.

Thank you for always supporting us and for loving us so much. Ok. We love you.

The message was a blow to the heart. Every happy word, every sign of love for Valeria was a shovel of dirt on his hopes. She saw the photo, the radiant, undeniable happiness on her son’s face.

He saw how she looked at Valeria.

She saw the future he had chosen, a future in which she, Elizabeth, was only a spectator.

Telling him the truth now would not be an act of salvation, it would be an act of destruction.

It would be like dropping a bomb in the middle of his paradise.

With a soyo, which broke in his throat, he dropped the phone on the carpet, hugged his knees and let himself be overcome by the pain.

There was no choice. Her silence was the price of her son’s happiness and as she had always done, she was willing to pay it without complaining.

She would stay, endure and become the best actress the world had ever known.

Later, a gentle knock on the door roused her from her lethargy. It was Lucia with a small tray in her hands. Madam, I brought you chamomile tea and some cookies that you like.

I bought them this morning at the corner store. Isabel looked at her with her eyes swollen with tears. On the tray, next to the tea, was a small packet of animal biscuits.

He profited and left the tray on the table. His voice was a knowing whisper.

Sometimes in this house the walls hear and see many things, ma’am, but there are also loyal hearts.

If you need something, anything, to let off steam, a glass of water that someone believes for you, don’t hesitate to look for me. She is not as alone as they want her to feel.

Lucia gave him a small, respectful bow and carefully closed the door.

Isabel looked at the cookies, a small beacon of kindness in the midst of overwhelming darkness and for the first time in many hours she felt that maybe, just maybe there would be a way to survive.

He added archival footage of smiling old men playing chess and of kind nurses.

She wrote a text full of words such as comprehensive well-being, personalized attention and a paradise for the elderly. The masterpiece of his deception was ready. He chose the perfect time to attend to his trap.

He waited for Alejandro to come home one night, visibly exhausted from a problem at the office. As he loosened his tie, she approached with an expression of deep and grave concern.

My love, we need to talk about your mom.

I am more anguished every day, her voice began a whisper of anguish.

Now, what happened? Okay, he asked tiredly. Today I found her talking to herself in the garden and when I asked her who she was talking to, she told me that it was your dad.

Alejandro. I think his mind is deteriorating faster than we think. The blow he took in the hallway, his lack of memory. I’m afraid that one day something serious will happen.

I’m afraid she’ll get hurt and we’re not here to help her.

The lie about talking to his dead father was a low and effective blow.

Alexander’s concern was aroused. That’s why I was investigating.

Valeria continued showing him the screen of her tablet with the fake brochure. I found this place. It is called Villa Serenidad. It’s not an asylum, my love. It is a comprehensive wellness center, a luxury spa for seniors.

Look at the facilities. They have 24-hour geriatric doctors, yoga classes, occupational therapy, beautiful gardens to walk around.

She would be attended by specialists, surrounded by people her age.

It would be like a permanent vacation for her. Alejandro looked at the retouched photos and read the fraudulent text, and the idea began to seem reasonable to him. I do not know.

Ok. I would feel like I was abandoning her. It’s my mom.

To abandon her would be to leave her here alone all day, running the risk that she would fall down the stairs for real or leave the gas running, Valeria replied using emotional blackmail.

To love her is to seek the best for her, even if it hurts us.

I only think about their safety and their happiness, but if you prefer to take a risk, well, it’s your decision.

I just wanted you to have a clear conscience.

The plot was devastating, tired, stressed and completely manipulated. Alejandro gave way.

Okay, you’re right. Your heart is so noble that sometimes I am ashamed. This weekend we are going to visit the place without obligation. If it’s as good as you say, then we’ll talk to her.

Isabel, who had prepared a linden tea for her son when she saw him arrive so overwhelmed, was approaching the office at that moment.

The door was ajar and he arrived just in time to hear Alejandro’s final sentence.

We will talk to her. he saw the smile of triumph on Valeria’s face.

He immediately understood what they were talking about.

The plan that Valeria had shouted to him in the kitchen weeks ago was coming true. Her son, her own son, was planning to get rid of her. The silver tray slipped from his trembling hands.

The porcelain cup and teapot shattered against the marble floor with a roar that broke the silence of the night.

The abrupt and violent sound made Alejandro and Valeria turn suddenly.

On the threshold of the door stood Isabel with her eyes fixed on her son.

There was no sadness or fear on his face, but an expression of absolute horror.

The gaze of someone who has just seen the being he loves most in the world transform into a monster.

The betrayal was complete, undeniable, and more painful than any physical blow. She was sentenced and her own son had just signed the order.

The rumble of porcelain shattering on the marble floor was like a gunshot in the night.

Alejandro and Valeria turned to find Isabel on the threshold of the office, her face petrified by horror and betrayal.

The silver tray lay at his feet. a mute witness to the conversation that had just sentenced her.

For an instant, no one moved. Time seemed to freeze in that picture of silent confrontation. “Mom,” Alejandro exclaimed, running toward her, his initial anger replaced by genuine concern.

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?” Valeria was faster. She stood between mother and son, instantly adopting her role as a self-sacrificing caregiver.

“Oh, my God, mother-in-law, what a scare she gave us,” she said, taking Isabel’s arm with a firmness that was more of a capture than a support.

“She’s pale as paper.” I told you, Alejandro. No, it’s okay.

She is exhausted, confused. Surely the tray slipped.

Come on, mother-in-law, I’ll take her to her room to lie down. Isabel tried to get away, she tried to speak, but the words did not come out.

The socla had fallen silent.

He could only look at his son, a silent plea in his eyes that he, in his blindness, was unable to decipher.

Yes, take it, my love.

Thank you, Alejandro said, already bending down to pick up the larger pieces of the broken cup.

Lucia, come clean up this mess, please. As Valeria forcibly escorted her down the hall, Isabel saw Lucy approach with an expression of deep anguish. Their gazes crossed over Valeria’s shoulder.

In the eyes of the employee, Isabel saw her own terror reflected. Lucia knew something terrible was happening.

Once in the room, Valeria pushed Isabel on the bed without any delicacy.

What is cenita? I hiss closing the door. It always has to be the protagonist, right? He can’t just accept his fate and leave us alone.

I swear that if Alejandro begins to doubt because of him, he will regret it. Isabel finally found her voice, although it was a broken whisper.

Why? Why so much hatred?

I haven’t done anything to you. Valeria let out a laugh, an ugly and joyless sound. That it has not done anything to me?

You exist. That is their sin. It is a constant reminder of the misery from which Alejandro comes. an anchor that ties him to a past that I want to erase.

He is destined for greatness with me and you do not fit into that picture. Now go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a very long day. The door was locked from the outside.

Isabel heard the click of the bolt and panic flooded her.

She was locked up. She was a prisoner. For a moment, despair overwhelmed her.

She felt old, weak, and utterly defeated. I knew about the asylum plan and now I was stuck helpless.

But then, as tears of helplessness ran down his cheeks, something changed. The image of her son’s face, so easily manipulated, so blindly in love, ignited a spark of fury within her. No, he wasn’t going to give up.

He wasn’t going to let that woman destroy her son and keep everything she had built. Fear was transformed into an ice-cold determination.

He could not meet it with force, but perhaps he could do so with cunning. he had to find proof, proof so irrefutable that not even Alexander’s blind love could deny it.

The next morning, Valeria, believing Isabel to be completely subdued, opened the door. I brought him breakfast. Eat, I don’t want you to faint on the trip.

He put down the tray and left, leaving the door open.

It was his first mistake. Isabel knew that Valeria, smug by her victories, would become careless and that her favorite place to gloat was the pool area.

After forcing herself to eat a little, Isabel left her room.

He found an old gardener’s hat and pruning shears in a closet in the hallway. With her heart pounding, she went down the service staircase so as not to be seen and went out into the garden.

He went to the rose bushes that were conveniently near the pool terrace and began to prune the dry flowers crouching, using the hat and foliage as camouflage.

It was a risky bet, but it was the only one I had.

And luck, for the first time, was on his side.

A few minutes later, Valeria appeared on the terrace dressed in a designer bikini and huge sunglasses.

she lay down on a lounge chair and, as Isabel had predicted, she took out her cell phone and called her friend Brenda.

She turned on the speaker, too arrogant to worry that anyone might hear her.

“Friend, you have no idea about last night’s drama,” Valeria began, her voice dripping with amusement.

“The old woman caught us planning her exile to Villa Serenidad.”

“She threw a tray and made a scene.”

“But Ale swallowed it all, as always.”

“She thinks her mommy is already choking.”

Brenda laughed loudly on the other end of the call.

“Villa Serenidad,” she mocked.

“What a fancy name for that garbage dump.”

“And he really believed it was complete?”

“I made her a fake brochure,” Valeria replied proudly.

“With photos from somewhere else.”

“It was divine.”

“He thinks he’s sending her to a luxury spa.”

“When we visit and see the filthy place,” Valeria continued,

“I’ll tell him the administration deceived us with false advertising.”

“I’ll cry.”

“I’ll act indignant.”

“I’ll say it’s too late.”

“That the contracts are signed for one year.”

“And that taking the old woman out would cost us millions in penalties.”

“What do you think of my performance?” she asked smugly.

Hidden among the roses, Isabel felt her breath shorten.

The coldness of the plan was monstrous.

With trembling hands, she pulled her phone from her apron pocket.

She opened the voice recorder.

Praying silently, she pressed record.

“You’re diabolical,” Brenda laughed.

“And then what?”

“Then paradise,” Valeria replied.

“Once we’re married, the second phase begins.”

“I’ll have Alejandro make me primary beneficiary of everything.”

“All accounts.”

“All properties.”

“I’ll say it’s to protect family assets.”

“He’s noble.”

“Hardworking.”

“And incredibly foolish.”

“He believes anything I wrap in love and protection.”

“Sometimes I almost feel sorry for him.”

“But it passes when I see his credit card statements.”

Isabel bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Hearing her son spoken of that way hurt deeply.

“And what about the old woman?” Brenda asked.

“Once she’s locked in that hole,” Valeria said calmly,

“And I control the money, visits will be spaced out.”

“At first, every weekend.”

“So Alejandro won’t suspect.”

“Then once a month.”

“We’ll say work is overwhelming.”

“Unexpected business trips.”

“Then only Christmas.”

“And birthdays.”

“And finally, not even that.”

“We’ll leave her there.”

“Let her rot alone.”

“Until she dies.”

“That will be my true wedding gift.”

“A life without her shadow.”

“Without her smell of mothballs.”

“Without her reproachful face.”

“Total freedom.”

The conversation continued, but Isabel had heard enough.

She had the poison.

The proof.

The entire conspiracy inside a small audio file.

With infinite care, she stopped the recording.

She hid the phone away.

At that moment, Valeria ended the call.

She stood up and stretched like a satisfied cat.

Her gaze swept across the garden.

For a second, it paused on the rose bushes.

“Who’s there?” she shouted sharply.

Isabel froze.

Her heart stopped.

She thought everything was over.

Then an elderly gardener appeared.

“Sorry, miss,” Ramiro said.

“I was just weeding.”

Valeria stared at him suspiciously.

After a tense moment, she dismissed him with annoyance.

“Do it quietly.”

“The noise bothers me.”

She went back inside the house.

Isabel waited until the gardener left.

Her legs barely held her.

She slipped inside through the service door.

She locked herself in her room.

She put on her headphones.

She pressed play.

Valeria’s cruel voice filled her ears.

Every step of the plan laid bare.

She had it.

She had the bomb.

Now she only needed the courage to detonate it.

The days that followed were torture.

Waiting.

Tension.

The engagement party approached.

The mansion became chaos.

Isabel clutched her phone like a sacred amulet.

She waited for the perfect moment.

It never came.

Alejandro was always busy.

Meetings.

Calls.

Decisions.

When he was home, Valeria never left his side.

She interrupted every private moment.

Isabel felt like a sniper without a clear shot.

Meanwhile, Valeria intensified her psychological war.

She needed Isabel to look senile.

She moved her belongings.

Then “helped” her find them in absurd places.

“Mother-in-law, why are your glasses in the sugar bowl?” she exclaimed theatrically.

“It worries me more every day,” she added in front of Alejandro.

Isabel endured it silently.

Protesting would only help Valeria.

The cruelty escalated further.

Isabel received a comforting call.

From a lifelong comadre.

Valeria snatched the phone away.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Consuelo.”

“This is Valeria, Alejandro’s fiancée.”

“Yes, she’s here.”

“But she’s not very lucid right now.”

“She’s saying strange things.”

“No, don’t worry.”

“We’re taking great care of her.”

“I’ll give her your message.”

She hung up.

The last link to the outside world was cut.

“We don’t want her spreading her craziness,” Valeria smiled venomously.

The final confirmation came from Lucia.

The loyal employee found Isabel in the library.

Her face was pale with fear.

“Ma’am, I need to warn you,” she whispered.

“I heard Miss Valeria talking to the driver.”

“She gave him very clear instructions.”

“The car must be ready tomorrow.”

“Friday.”

“Exactly at nine.”

“For a long trip out of town.”

“He must come alone.”

“No escort.”

“She said they’re moving a very delicate package.”

Alejandro’s love is mine.

I earned it.

And you are nothing but a nuisance.

An old piece of furniture blocking my new house.

Blinded by rage, Valeria began to act irrationally.

She spotted a small wooden stool Isabel sometimes used to rest her feet.

She grabbed it and hurled it against the wall.

It hit with a loud thud.

“That’s how I get rid of old furniture,” she screamed hysterically.

Her crazed gaze then fell on Isabel.

A perverse idea crossed her mind.

Her fury shifted into a sinister calm, far more terrifying than screaming.

“You know what?” she said, her voice suddenly honeyed and fake.

“You’re right.”

“I’m too upset.”

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“Let’s talk like civilized people.”

“Sit down.”

She pointed to another identical stool near the fireplace.

It was small and unstable.

It was an order, not an invitation.

Isabel looked at her suspiciously.

But physical and emotional exhaustion overcame caution.

Maybe if she sat down, the storm would pass.

With a sore body, she walked slowly and sat on the fragile stool.

Valeria stood over her.

A predator savoring her dominance.

“That’s better,” she murmured.

“That’s how I like it.”

“That you understand your place.”

“You speak only when I allow it.”

“Now you understand.”

“You are not the Queen Mother.”

“You are a visitor.”

“One more object in this house.”

“Something I’ll arrange to my liking.”

“And honestly, mother-in-law, you don’t match my furniture.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

“And I’ll throw you away soon.”

During the earlier struggle, Isabel’s phone had slipped partially from her apron pocket.

The phone containing the recording.

Neither of them noticed.

Valeria stepped back, admiring the scene.

Isabel seated and submissive.

Herself standing victorious.

But it wasn’t enough.

She needed a final act of domination.

Something cruel and absolute.

“Do you know what disgusts me most about you?” she whispered venomously.

“Your moral superiority.”

“That saintly, self-sacrificing mother face.”

“Do you think giving birth gives you rights over him?”

“Children aren’t property.”

“They’re trophies.”

“Trophies the smartest women win.”

“And I, Isabel, am smarter than you.”

Then, in an act of pure cruelty, Valeria lifted her stilettoed foot.

With brutal precision, she kicked one leg of the fragile stool.

Everything happened in a second.

Wood creaked.

Isabel gasped.

The support vanished.

The stool tipped.

She fell sideways onto the cold marble floor.

The impact was brutal.

Pain ripped through her hip and side.

Her breath vanished.

Her vision blurred.

She lay on the floor, unable to move.

The world became pain and flashing lights.

Through a blur, she saw Valeria’s expensive shoes near her face.

She heard her executioner’s cruel laughter.

Her body screamed.

No sound escaped.

She was broken.

Physically and spiritually.

She had fought.

She had resisted.

But she had lost.

Evil had won.

Tears rolled down her face, mixing with dust.

She gathered the last air in her lungs.

The last shred of will.

She whispered a plea.

Not to Valeria.

To God.

To the universe.

To nothingness.

“Please… stop.”

The chapter ended there.

In that plea.

In the image of a defeated mother.

In the silence that followed.

The silence was heavy.

Dense.

Valeria savored it like expensive wine.

She stared at the woman on the floor.

A mass of pain and defeat.

Power surged through her.

She had won.

She had crushed her.

She had silenced her.

She did not hear the key turning.

She did not hear the bolt slide open.

She did not hear the silent footsteps.

Alejandro had felt unease.

His meeting had been canceled.

Something felt wrong.

He returned home.

He bought orchids.

A gesture of love.

He entered smiling.

The smile froze at the living room door.

Alejandro’s love is mine, I earned it.

And you are nothing but a nuisance, an old piece of furniture blocking my new house.

In her rage, Valeria began acting irrationally.

She saw a small wooden stool Isabel sometimes used to rest her feet.

She grabbed it and hurled it at the wall.

It struck with a heavy thud.

“That’s how I get rid of old furniture!” she shouted, out of control.

Then her crazed gaze fell on Isabel.

A perverse and cruel idea crossed her mind.

Her fury shifted into a sinister calm, more terrifying than her screams.

“You know what?” she said, suddenly honeyed and fake.

“You’re right, I’m getting too upset.”

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“Let’s talk like civilized people.”

“Please, sit down.”

She pointed to another identical stool near the fireplace.

It was small and unstable, not meant for prolonged use.

It was an order, not an invitation.

Isabel watched her with suspicion.

But exhaustion was winning over caution.

Maybe if she sat, if she looked calm, the storm would pass.

Sore and shaken, she walked slowly and sat on the fragile stool.

Valeria stood before her, towering above.

A predator savoring power over prey.

“See?” she murmured.

“That’s how I like it.”

“That you understand your place.”

“What does it feel like when I tell you to speak?”

“You speak only when I allow it.”

“Now you understand, right?”

“You are not the Queen Mother.”

“You are a visitor.”

“Just another object in this house.”

“One more thing I’ll arrange to my taste.”

“And honestly, mother-in-law, you don’t match my furniture.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

“And I’m going to throw you away very soon.”

During the earlier struggle, Isabel’s phone had slipped partly from her apron pocket.

The one containing the recording, now dangerously visible.

Neither of them noticed.

Valeria stepped back as if admiring the scene.

Isabel seated, submissive, and she standing, victorious.

But it still wasn’t enough.

She wanted a final act, absolute and cruel.

A gesture of domination to seal her victory forever.

“Do you know what bothers me most about you?” she whispered, poison-sweet.

“Your moral superiority.”

“That saintly, self-sacrificing mother face makes me sick.”

“Do you think giving birth gives you rights over him?”

“But children aren’t a mother’s property.”

“They’re trophies the smartest women win.”

“And I, dear Isabel, am far more intelligent than you.”

Then, in an act of pure and gratuitous evil, Valeria lifted her stilettoed foot.

With quick precision, she kicked one leg of the fragile stool with full force.

Everything happened in a split second.

Wood creaked.

Isabel gasped.

Support vanished.

The world dropped away.

The stool tipped.

Isabel fell sideways onto the cold marble floor.

The blow was brutal.

A sharp tearing pain ripped through her hip and side.

Her breath was stolen, her vision clouded.

She lay there unable to move.

The world shrank into pain and flickering lights.

Through a tunnel of blur, she saw Valeria’s expensive shoes inches from her face.

She heard, far away, the satisfied laughter of her executioner.

Every fiber of her body screamed.

No sound came out.

She was broken, physically and spiritually.

She had fought.

She had resisted.

But in the end, she had lost.

Evil had won.

Tears rolled down her face, mixing with dust on the floor.

She gathered the last air in her lungs.

The last drop of will.

She exhaled it as a whisper.

Not to Valeria, but to the universe, to God, to nothingness.

A final surrender.

“Please… stop.”

The chapter ended there.

In that sentence.

In the image of a defeated mother.

In the silence that followed her last plea.

The silence was dense and heavy.

Valeria savored it.

She tasted it like expensive wine.

She stared at the woman on the floor, a mass of pain and defeat.

Power surged through her, intoxicating and complete.

She had won.

She had crushed her.

She had silenced her forever.

So absorbed in triumph, she did not hear the faint sound of a key turning.

She did not hear the soft click as the bolt released.

She did not hear the silent footsteps over the carpet in the lobby.

Alejandro had felt a premonition.

His morning meeting had been canceled at the last minute.

Instead of relief, unease tightened in his chest.

Something felt wrong at home.

He decided to return.

Maybe to take his mother and Valeria to lunch.

To smooth the tension before the big party.

He stopped at a flower shop.

He bought a huge bouquet of Valeria’s favorite orchids.

A gesture of peace and love.

He entered the house smiling, ready to announce good news.

But the smile froze on his lips as he reached the living room doorway.

The scene that greeted him was one of devastation.

The overturned stool, the broken glass scattered in front of the fireplace and in the center of everything,

his fiancée Valeria standing with an expression of wild triumph on her face and at her feet lying on the floor like a wounded animal.

His mother froze, his brain unable to process the incongruity of the image.

It was then that he heard the whisper, a thread of voice so faint that it was almost blown away by the wind, but to him it sounded like thunder.

Please, stop. The bouquet of orchids slipped from his limp hand. The purple and white flowers fell to the ground with a dull, soft noise, spreading on the carpet.

The sound, though slight, was enough for Valeria to finally realize that they were not alone.

He turned slowly. The expression on his face went from triumph to disbelief and from there to absolute panic, in a fraction of a second it paled until it acquired a waxy tone.

“My love,” his high-pitched, shrill voice exclaimed. Alejandro, it’s good that you arrived.

You have no idea what just happened. He began to speak at full speed, stumbling over the words. weaving an increasingly desperate and convoluted web of lies.

Your mom, your mom went crazy, completely crazy. He started screaming that I was the one who wanted to rob you.

He grabbed your photograph, your treasure, smashed it into the fireplace with his bare hands. I tried to calm her down, to reason with her, but she became like a wild beast.

She attacked me, scratched me, and in the struggle she tripped over the stool by herself and fell.

I swear to you, my love, he’s losing his mind. I’ve been telling you. You need professional help urgently. But Alejandro did not listen to her.

He didn’t even look at her. He passed her as if she were a statue, his eyes fixed on the motionless figure of his mother.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, charged with a fury so cold and so deep that it was far more terrifying than any scream.

He knelt beside Isabel. Mom, her voice was just a murmur.

Mom, are you okay? Can you hear me? With infinite delicacy, he put an arm under her shoulders to help her up. Isabel groaned in pain, clinging to him.

As he moved it, something fell from his apron pocket and lay on the floor next to them.

It was on his cell phone. The screen was slightly crashed from the drop, but it was on, showing the voice recorder interface. Alejandro saw it.

His gaze shifted from the phone to Valeria’s terrified face and then back to the phone.

The pieces of the puzzle began to fit into his mind with a painful and terrible clarity. He picked it up. His thumb moved with a sinister calm on the screen.

He pressed Play and then the room was filled with Valeria’s voice.

The clear, mocking, cruel voice that Isabel had recorded by the pool.

The asylum, my friend, is a garbage dump. I called it Villa Serenidad.

What a laugh. Alejandro swallowed the story that it is a spa. Valeria tried to say something, she stammered a no.

That’s it, but the voice in the recording silenced her. He is so noble and so hardworking and so menso. He believes all my lies.

Sometimes I even feel sorry for him, but it goes away quickly when I see his card statement. Every word was a hammer blow in Alejandro’s heart.

The betrayal was absolute, the manipulation was grotesque.

When the old woman is locked up and I’m in control, we’ll visit her less and less until she dies alone in that hole. It will be my wedding gift. Alejandro stopped the recording.

The silence that remained was heavier than a tombstone. He helped his mother to her feet by holding her firmly. Elizabeth leaned on him, her refuge, her salvation.

Then Alejandro turned to face Valeria. His face was an impassive mask, but his eyes burned with an icy fire.

There was no pain, there was no sadness. Just infinite contempt. Valeria fell apart. He fell to his knees, crawling toward him, crocodile tears streaming down his face.

No, my love, please forgive me. I love you. I did it for us, for our future. That recording is edited, it’s taken out of context. I swear.

Alejandro looked at her as if he were looking at an insect. When he finally spoke, his voice was so calm, so devoid of emotion, that every word was a death sentence.

You don’t have to explain anything, Valeria. I’ve heard it all and seen it all. He took out his own cell phone with precise and economical movements.

He logged into his bank application. This credit card said showing you the screen. Cancelled. The extension of my checking account.

Cancelled. Access to the house. Cancelled. Valeria looked at him with her mouth open in horror, while he dismantled her life of luxury in a matter of seconds.

Take your stuff. You have 10 minutes to disappear from my house and my life.

Call one of your friends or a taxi. The chaer won’t even take you to the corner. The guards at the entrance will make sure that you don’t try to take anything that isn’t yours.

And if you dare to approach me or my mother again, I will personally see to it that you never find a job again in this city or any other.

I was clear enough. The fury promised in the title wasn’t an explosion, it was an implosion.

A silent and devastating force that annihilated Valeria’s world without raising her voice.

She trembling, knowing that she had lost everything, she could only nod drowned in her own lies. Valeria’s world collapsed in slow motion.

The 10 minutes Alejandro gave her were the most humiliating countdown of her life.

She got up from the ground with limp legs and climbed the stairs under the implacable gaze of Alejandro, who did not move from his place, protectively holding his mother.

Every step was torture. He knew that Lucia and the rest of the domestic servants were hiding, listening, witnessing his fall. In what had been his room, now a foreign territory. He acted with the desperation of a thief.

He opened the drawers, ripping off the silk clothes and designer dresses, carelessly tossing it into a branded suitcase. His hands moved toward the jewelry box, a treasure chest Alexander had given him.

She opened her fingers looking for the diamond necklace, the emerald earrings, the gold watches, but a voice from the door stopped her in her tracks.

None of that belongs to you, Valeria. Alexander was standing in the doorway, his face an ice mask. Those jewels were gifts. They’re mine,” she squealed, clinging to the jeweler.

“They were gifts for a woman I loved. That woman never existed. It was a lie. Gifts, therefore, are annulled.” “Drop that.” His tone did not admit of discussion.

With a laugh of rage, Valeria let go of the jewelry box as if burning. She grabbed her bag, her most expensive shoes and packed everything she could into her suitcase.

It was a pathetic scene.

The queen, fleeing her palace with the few trinkets she could carry, took out her cell phone to call her friend Brenda. Brenda, you have to come and pick me up at Alejandro’s house right now.

He whispered, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. Brenda’s voice on the other end sounded cold, distant. Something happened. Okay, I’m in the middle of a facial.

He kicked me out. Alejandro kicked me out of the house. You have to come for me.

There was a pause. Oh, what a shame, my friend. But you know what? Right now my car is in the workshop and I have a terrible headache.

I can’t drive. Call yourself an Uber. Good luck with that. Click. Brenda had hung up on him. The rats were the first to leave the sinking ship.

Humiliated, defeated, she called a taxi service. With the suitcase in one hand and pride in pieces. He went down the grand staircase for the last time.

As he passed through the room, he saw Lucia, who was now in sight, carefully cleaning the remains of broken picture frames, a task that seemed symbolic.

Lucia did not look at her with triumph, but with an icy indifference that was much worse.

Two security guards Alejandro had called were waiting for her at the door. They escorted her to the taxi waiting outside, making sure she didn’t swerve.

When the door of the modest sedan closed, forever separating her from the life of luxury she had longed for,

Valeria finally broke down and began to cry, not out of regret, but out of pure, selfish rage for all she had lost.