Chapter 17
Alejandra
The dining room is a bubble of warmth compared to the rest of the silent house.
For two hours, the cruel world outside these walls ceases to exist. In this room, there is only Camilla.
She holds her own court at the head of the table, a true princess in her glittery shirt, telling us about the boy who stole her rainbow drawing in full detail.
"And then, Mrs. Gable says, 'Arturo, you give that back right now or no extra snack for you!'" Camilla reenacts the scene with dramatic flair, her small hands chopping the air.
Julian, who sits across from me, leans forward, his chin propped on his hand. "So did he give it back, princesa?"
"He had too! But it was all wrinkly." She says with a heavy sigh. "So Ale says we can make a new one tomorrow. With glitter glue and diamonds."
Ernesto, seated to my left, reaches over and smoothes her hair. A genuine, soft smile touches his lips, softening the hard lines of his face. "Diamonds and glitter glue sounds messy, and expensive."
Veronica laughs, a bright, clear sound. "Anything for art, right, Mila?"
It was a strange, delicate peace. We pass platters of grilled fish and roasted vegetables, our movements easy, our conversation so light it feels dangerously normal.
At precisely eight o'clock, Consuelo appears in the doorway. "Camilla, mi nina, it's time for bed."
Camilla's face falls into a theatrical pout. "But Tio Julian is telling me about his new car!"
"Don’t worry Mila I’ll come back and tell you all about it," he promises, ruffling her hair. He scoops her from her chair and spun her around once before setting her down. "Go on, mija. Sweet dreams."
She gives each of us a hug, her small arms tight around my neck and whispers, "Goodnight, Ale."
"Goodnight, princess."
As Consuelo leads her away, her small hand waves over her shoulder, the warmth in the room evaporates. It vanishes so completely it was like a switch had been flipped. The tension in the room grows heavy, thick with unspoken history and the silence stretches, sharp and uncomfortable.
Ernesto's smile is gone as he stares into his wine glass, his jaw tight. Across the table, Julian's easy charm dissolves into a cold smirk.
Veronica clears her throat, folding her hands neatly on the table. "So, the new nursing mentorship program at San Gabriel is showing incredible results. We've seen a fifteen percent drop in first-year burnout rates."
I grab the conversation like a lifeline. "That's amazing, Veronica. A good mentor can make or break a new nurse's career. What's the structure?"
"We pair them with senior staff, no one who has less than ten years of experience," she explains, her face lighting up as she talks about her work.
"It's less about clinical skills and more about navigating the emotional toll the bedside can take on them when they’re just starting out.
I found we need to focus on resilience training, teaching them proper hand off after difficult cases… "
We fall into an easy rhythm talking but I can feel Ernesto's impatience radiating beside me, a stark contrast to Julian's coiled, predatory stillness. Their glares cut across the table, sharp enough to draw blood.
"God, qué aburrido." Julian's voice slices through our conversation. He takes a long swallow of his drink, his eyes fixed on Ernesto. "Though I guess anything is more interesting than being married to my brother. Dime, Ale, is it as dreadful as it looks?"
My head snaps toward him, not liking the way he pronounces the name Camilla calls me. The charm he'd flashed at me earlier is gone, replaced by a casual cruelty.
"Actually, it's been full of surprises since the day we met," I say, my tone just as casual.
Julian laughs, something short and humorless. "I'm sure it has. My brother is the king of unpleasant surprises. Oh, but don't worry, those surprises will wear out then, you'll get used to the constant disappointment. Just ask every woman who's been in his life."
A low growl rumbles in Ernesto's chest. "Enough, Julian."
"Is it?" Julian leans forward, placing his glass on the table with a sharp click.
"Or are you just afraid your wife will find out the ugly truth?
That you're no more capable of being in a real relationship than you are of holding any type of human emotion. “Trust me. It’s better she sees you for what you are now than after she starts believing este cabron can be capable of more.”
"What the fuck would you know what a proper relationship is hermanito?
" Ernesto's voice is dangerously quiet. "The only things you've ever committed to are your tailor and your bartender.
Not to mention the constant bitches I have to pay off so to keep your fucking name out of the tabloids.
You're nothing but a child playing at being a man. "
Julian's face twists, the charming mask falling away completely.
He stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the polished floor.
"You think you're better than me? You, who has to build a family on contracts out of pure convenience? You weren’t worthy of Elena and you sure as hell aren’t worthy of having Alejandra next to you. You don't deserve a goddamn thing."
"Julian, please sit down. You’ve been drinking too much." Veronica reaches for his arm, her voice pleading, full of worry.
"No me toques!" He shoves her hand away. His hand catches the edge of her plate, sending it crashing to the floor in a spray of ceramic shards and scattered food.
In a rush of screams, I see Ernesto on his feet in an instant, his chair toppling backwards, his sights locked on his brother. Without thinking, I push my own chair back and step directly into his path, my hands flat against the hard wall of his chest. "Stop. Both of you."
He looks down at me, his eyes blazing with anger. For a second, I think he’s going to push right past me.
"Get out of my way, Alejandra."
"No." My voice shakes, but I hold my ground. "Everyone just needs to calm down."
He stares at me, his chest heaving. Then he takes a step back, shrugging my hands off as he straightens his suit jacket—the mask of cold control slamming back into place.
"Mind your business," he says, his voice devoid of all warmth. "This only concerns family, not you."
The words strike me like a slap. Family. A circle I was paid to stand just outside of. The shock is a cold plunge, followed by a hot surge of anger.
"You make it my business the second you decide to have this little pissing contest in front of me," I shoot back, my voice low and fierce.
"If you want your precious family drama to stay private, then have the decency not to scream and shout it across the dinner table.
Because like it or not, Ernesto, your world involves me now. "
Veronica stands frozen, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with unshed tears.
"Go fuck yourself, Ernesto," Julian spits out. "That's all you've ever cared about anyway. Yourself, and this fucking company."
He turns and stalks out of the dining room without a backward glance.
"Julian!" Veronica calls after him, her voice breaking. He doesn’t stop. She turns towards me, her face full of anguish. "Ale, I'm so sorry."
She hurries out after him, her footsteps echoing in the sudden, cavernous silence.
Great, once again I’m alone with Ernesto. He stands rigid, his back to me, staring at the shattered plate on the floor. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, the knuckles white. His rage pouring off him in waves, so thick I can almost taste it.
A young maid, her face pale, not knowing what to do in the situation hovers in the doorway.
"Please, clear the table," I tell her, keeping my voice steady. "And could you start some tea? Chamomile, if you have it."
She nods and disappears.
I take a deep breath, the scent of wine and testosterone filling my lungs. I walk around Ernesto until I’m standing face to face with him. He doesn’t bother to look at me.
"Ernesto, go to your office," I say softly. "I'll bring you the tea. Just…go, I’d hate for Camilla to hear all this commotion and see you worked up like this."
He finally lifts his head. His expression is a storm of disgust and indignation.
I know I’m no one to tell this man what to do but right now this needs to be deescalated.
Ernesto drags a hand down his face, a gesture of pure, bone-deep exhaustion, and with a heavy sigh he relents.
Without another word, he turns and walks out of the dining area.
I stand frozen to my spot for a long moment, my heart hammering against my chest, feeling like I'd just survived a war.
The tea cup and plate rattle on the silver tray in my hands, the last time I was in this office Ernesto and I ended up at each other’s throats and I got kicked out. I knock on the heavy oak door of Ernesto’s office and a muffled sound from inside is my only invitation to enter.
He stands with his back to me, a dark silhouette against the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the glittering fairy lights of the beautiful princess garden Ernesto had built for Camilla, holding glass, of what I can only assume is liquor, clenched in his hand.
I set the tea on the corner of his massive desk, the delicate clink of porcelain loud in the silence.
"You don't need this right now." I walk over to him and reach for the glass.
His fingers tighten around it as a silent refusal.
He doesn’t look at me, just stares at my hand over his.
The warmth of his skin seeps into mine and for a few seconds, we are locked in a silent battle.
Then, with a sigh that seems to drain the last of the fight in him, he loosens his grip and I’m able to take the glass from his hand and place it on his desk.
I need to distract him, to pull him back from whatever dark edge he’s teetering on. So, I do what I know best. I start talking, letting my voice fill the silent room with meaningless chatter.