Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO DISAPPEARED
The next morning, I called Rosa.
She had worked for my family for eleven years.
She had helped care for Isabella since she was a baby.
Two months earlier, Beatriz had told me Rosa resigned because she wanted to move closer to her sister in Valencia.
I had believed her.
Rosa answered on the fourth ring.
“Señor?”
Her voice sounded surprised.
“Rosa, where are you?”
There was a pause.
“Marbella.”
I looked toward the window.
“You didn’t move.”
“No.”
“Why did Beatriz tell me you did?”
Silence.
Then Rosa began crying quietly.
I closed my office door.
“What happened?”
“She fired me.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
“Because I told her to stop.”
I gripped the desk.
“Stop what?”
“Making Isabella do everything.”
Rosa explained carefully.
After I left for Dubai, Beatriz had begun giving Isabella more household tasks.
At first, they seemed ordinary.
Putting away toys.
Setting the breakfast table.
Organizing her room.
Then the work increased.
Beatriz dismissed two part-time staff members.
She stopped using the gardening service on weekdays.
She told Isabella she needed discipline.
Rosa objected.
Beatriz warned her to stay out of family matters.
Then Rosa caught Isabella cleaning the terrace late one evening after she had already gone to bed.
Rosa confronted Beatriz.
The next morning, she was fired.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I tried.”
I stopped breathing.
“When?”
“Six times.”
I opened my phone records.
Nothing.
“No calls came through.”
“She told me your Dubai number changed.”
My eyes closed.
“She blocked you.”
“I think so.”
Rosa’s voice cracked.
“I should have done more.”
“You tried.”
“I should have come to you.”
“You’re coming now.”
There was silence.
“What?”
“I need you here.”
“Beatriz will not allow it.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Beatriz was standing outside the office.
She had clearly been listening.
I held her gaze.
“She doesn’t make that decision anymore.”
Forty minutes later, Rosa arrived.
Isabella saw her through the front window.
For the first time since I returned, my daughter ran.
She crossed the foyer so quickly that Rosa barely had time to open her arms.
Isabella crashed into her.
Rosa held her tightly.
And Isabella finally cried.
Not quietly.
Not carefully.
She cried like a child who had been waiting months for permission.
Beatriz stood at the top of the staircase.
Her face was white with fury.
That was when I understood something else.
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Rosa wasn’t just a witness.
She was proof that Beatriz had deliberately removed anyone who might protect Isabella.
