Chapter 2 - THE LIST
I read the sentence three times.
Dad will believe me, not you.
The handwriting was elegant.
Controlled.
Familiar.
Beatriz wrote birthday cards the same way.
My hands began to shake.
I closed the notebook before Isabella could see my expression.
“How long has she been writing these?”
Rosa lowered her voice.
“I don’t know.”
“You found it?”
She nodded.
“Behind the nightstand.”
Isabella spoke without looking up.
“She makes me write down what I did wrong.”
I sat beside her.
“What did you do wrong today?”
She rubbed one thumb across the other.
“I left food on my plate.”
“What food?”
“Fish.”
“You don’t like fish.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“She said rich children shouldn’t be picky.”
I closed my eyes for one second.
When I opened them, Rosa was watching me.
There was something else she wanted to say.
“What is it?”
She glanced toward the door.
“Sir, I wanted to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Several times.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t you?”
Rosa’s mouth trembled.
“Mrs. Alvarez said she would have my sister deported.”
I stared at her.
“My sister works for a family Beatriz knows.”
Rosa continued quickly.
“She said one phone call could ruin her papers.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t blame Rosa.
That surprised me.
I expected anger.
Instead, I felt something colder.
Beatriz had built an entire system.
Fear for Isabella.
Fear for Rosa.
Distance from me.
Control of the house.
“How many people know?”
Rosa looked toward Isabella.
“Maybe more than you think.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Beatriz entered without waiting.
“I said you were not to come in here.”
She ignored me.
Her eyes locked on the notebook in my hand.
Everything about her changed.
She crossed the room.
“Give me that.”
I stood.
“No.”
“It’s private.”
“It concerns my daughter.”
“She wrote lies in it.”
I held up the notebook.
“The handwriting on the punishment column is yours.”
Beatriz froze.
For half a second, she had no answer.
Then she recovered.
“Yes.”
Her voice became firm.
“Because I was teaching her accountability.”
“By withholding meals?”
“Stop dramatizing.”
Isabella curled into herself.
That was enough.
“Get out.”
Beatriz’s eyes widened.
“Excuse me?”
“Leave this room.”
“This is my house too.”
“Then go enjoy the rest of it.”
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Beatriz leaned around me.
“Isabella, tell your father the truth.”
My daughter’s breathing changed.
Faster.
Shallower.
“Tell him.”
Beatriz repeated.
“You asked for chores, didn’t you?”
Isabella whispered, “I don’t know.”
Beatriz smiled.
“See?”
I stepped between them.
“Go.”
This time, she did.
But before she reached the door, she looked at Rosa.
Just once.
Rosa’s face went white.
I noticed.
After Beatriz left, I locked the bedroom door.
Then I called my attorney.
His name was Adrian Cole.
We had worked together for eleven years.
He answered immediately.
“Mateo?”
“I need you at the villa.”
“What happened?”
“Family emergency.”
A pause.
“How serious?”
I looked at Isabella’s hands.
“Bring someone who specializes in custody law.”
Adrian’s tone changed.
“I’ll be there.”
I nearly hung up.
Then I remembered the phone call on the terrace.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“I also need a forensic team.”
“For what?”
“Every camera.”
“Every computer.”
“Every phone record connected to this house.”
He was silent.
Then he asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Do you think Beatriz knew you were coming home?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because if she didn’t know.”
May you like
He paused.
“Then what you saw was probably normal.”
