Chapter 29
Ernesto
The steam from the mug of Chocolate Abuelita rises thick with a sweet scent of pilloncillo and chocolate. From my position on the leather sofa, I watch the two most important things in my life–my wife and child.
Alejandra is on her knees, carefully arranging the red velvet skirt around the base of the nine-foot tree that towers over everything in the living room.
Her movements are precise and her focus is absolute.
Camilla, on the other hand, stands beside her like a mini supervisor, clutching a glitter encrusted star ornament in her small fist. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, a perfect mirror of her mother’s serious expressions.
“No, Ale,” Camilla instructs Alejandra, her voice like a tiny bell full of authority. “Make it more puffy like on the T.V.”
Alejandra glances up, a smile on her lips, as she adjusts the fabric, fluffing it with her hands until it billows out in a perfect circle. “Better?”
Camilla nods, satisfied. “Much better.”
The mug in my hand is warm, but a cold memory crosses my mind, pulling me back.
Back to a smaller room, and a much smaller tree.
The air smelled of woodsmoke and Elena's cheap vanilla candles, not the sterile polish of the mansion. The tree Elena forced me to put up was barely taller than I was, lopsided and sparse, its branches weighed down with mismatched ornaments she had collected over the years. Her apartment was cramped, but she filled it with a warmth that my life hasn’t felt since the day she passed.
I was on the floor, untangling a string of colored lights as she hummed a Christmas carol, her voice slightly off-key but full of a joy so pure I didn’t mind it. She sat beside me, her hand resting on my arm, her touch a spark in the quiet room.
"I have something to tell you," she whispered, her eyes wide and shining, not with the reflection of the lights, but with a secret she could no longer contain.
She took my hand and placed it on her stomach.
It was flat, but I could feel the faint, hopeful tremor beneath her skin. "We're going to have a baby."
The memory is like a sharp hard glass in my mind. The shock and fear, then the slow, overwhelming feeling I had never allowed myself before–hope. The hope of an actual future and not one filled with blood. Of having a family of my own.
I take a sip of the chocolate and the taste has my throat tightening.
Elena’s face has always been clear, a perfect portrait I have spent years preserving, but as of lately the edges are blurred, softened.
I try to focus my mind on her smile, another image begins to form.
The image of Alejandra, her head thrown back in laughter, her eyes blazing with a defiant fire I like so much.
A stone-hard guilt settles in my gut. Am I betraying Elena with every thought of Alejandra, or am I unfaithful to my wife for longing for a past love?
The sound of footsteps on the marble floor of the foyer pulls me from the past. Hector appears in the wide archway of the living room. He gives a slight, respectful nod in the direction of the tree, acknowledging the presence of my daughter and wife, before his gaze settles on me.
I place the mug on the wooden side table and cross the room to meet him. We move to the far side, by the tall windows overlooking the dormant gardens, keeping our voices low.
"The arrangements for the gala are finalized," Hector begins, his tone clipped, all business. "The final guest list was confirmed this morning. It is… as we expected."
His words are neutral, but I hear the unspoken warning. Volatile. Dangerous. A gathering of wolves, all pretending to celebrate peace while sharpening their claws.
"Security?"
"Full detail on-site, twenty-four hours in advance. Perimeter sweeps every hour. The armored vehicles have been brought from the warehouse, prepped and ready."
Armored cars, the same ones we use for trips into hostile territory, are being needed for a simple Christmas party. I look over Hector's shoulder, back to the tree. Alejandra is now lifting Camilla so she can place the glittery ornament on a low-hanging branch—their laughter, soft and bright.
"It’s not enough," I say, my voice a low growl.
"I want a full counter-surveillance team active from the moment we leave this gate. No blind spots, Hector. None. I want eyes on every car, every waiter, every shadow. Los mayores del Consorcio estarán allí. No podemos arriesgarnos. Some of them still haven’t gotten over the fact I married Alejandra without their approval. "
Hector's jaw tightens. He understands, this isn't just a party; it's a display of power on neutral ground, which makes it the most dangerous ground of all.
"I’ll get it done," he says, his gaze unwavering.
"Alejandra needs to be glued to my side," I add, the words unnecessary, but I say them anyway. A reminder to him, to myself, of what is at stake. "At all times."
"Entendido." He gives another curt nod and is gone, his footsteps receding, leaving behind a silence thick with unspoken threats. The warmth from the fireplace does nothing to chase away the cold that has settled deep in my bones.
I walk back toward the sound of their voices. Alejandra is on the floor again, her back to me, meticulously adjusting the tiny lights woven into the pine needles, obviously still upset with me.
"Alejandra." She doesn't turn, but her hands still.
"What?" The word is cold and clipped.
"Come here."
She hesitates, then rises slowly, dusting pine needles from her jeans.
She walks toward me but stops a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest. I close the distance in a single stride, my hand closing around her arm, and pull her closer until she is flush against me.
She gives a small gasp, her body tense, but she doesn't fight.
The scent of pine and warm vanilla body spray fills my senses.
"There is a Christmas gala I must attend," I say, my voice low, for her ears only. "You’ll be accompanying me."
For a moment, she just stares at me, her brown eyes searching my face. Then, a slow spark of excitement ignites in them, melting some of the frost.
"A party? Like, a real party?" A smile starts to form on her lips. "Oh, that's perfect. Camilla and I can get matching dresses. I saw the most beautiful velvet ones the other day, a deep burgundy. She would look like a little princess."
Her excitement is a sharp, painful contrast to the cold dread in my gut.
"Camilla isn’t going with us."
The smile vanishes as she pulls back slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What? Why not? It's a Christmas party, Ernesto." She lets out a small incredulous laugh. "What could possibly be so dangerous about a Christmas party that you can't take your own daughter?"
My hand tightens on her arm. How do I explain a world where a room full of smiling faces hides a dozen assassins waiting for a moment of weakness.
"It is not a place for a child," I state, the words flat, final.
But she doesn't back down. Her chin lifts, with that familiar fire returning to her eyes.
"We rarely make an appearance as a family.
Don't you think it would look good for your image?
To show up with your beautiful daughter and your…
wife?" She says the word like she's testing its weight.
"Ernesto, the devoted family man. Your clients, your partners…they’ll eat it up. "
Alejandra is too smart for her own good, using my own logic against me. Although, I can’t deny she’s right. The image of family projects an image of strength. Taking Camilla is a risk, but leaving her behind could also be interpreted as a vulnerability, a sign that I have something to hide.
The muscles in my jaw ache from clenching them, but Alejandra takes her hand and gently places it on my cheek. Her touch calms my thoughts and my anger. The thought of Camilla in that room, surrounded by those people, makes my blood run cold.
"Fine," I grind out bitterly. "She can go."
The tension in her body dissolves instantly. A brilliant, radiant smile breaks across her face, and it hits me with the force of a physical blow. She rises on her toes and presses a quick, soft kiss to my nose. The gesture is so spontaneous, so genuine, it has me reeling back confused.
"Thank you," she giggles and shoots her hands in the air.
Before I can process her little display, she turns. "Camilla!" she calls out, her voice bright with joy. "Guess what? We're going to a Christmas party! And we’re going to wear matching dresses! What do you think?"
Camilla, who had been trying to hang a fragile glass ball on a branch far too high, drops her hands and spins around. Her eyes are wide, her face alight with pure, childish joy. "A party? With you and Papi?"
"All of us," Alejandra confirms, her smile as bright as my daughter's.
Camilla lets out a squeal of delight and launches herself across the room. She runs straight for me, her little legs pumping as fast as she can. I crouch just in time to catch her as she leaps into my arms. Her small arms wrap tightly around my neck, and she plants a loud, wet kiss on my cheek.
"A party!" she yells into my ear, as if I've just handed her the moon.
Over her shoulder, I see Alejandra watching us, her expression soft, a genuine smile on her face. She laughs again and I realize with a startling clarity her laugh is something I wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of my life.
The two of them return to the tree, their heads bent together as they conspire about dress colors and hairstyles, their shared excitement a bubble of light in the room.
I stand back, watching my family, and pull my phone from my pocket. My thumb moves over the screen, finding Hector's name. My message is short, each word a cold, hard stone.
king asshole: Camilla is coming with us.