Chapter 30
Alejandra
A few days later, Camilla, is a tiny whirlwind of anticipation, zipping between racks of shimmering dresses. Her laughter is a bright counterpoint to the hushed elegance of the place. I watch her, as a knot of warmth unravels in my chest.
Veronica moves with a practiced grace through the luxury-lined aisles, her expression showing the familiar Damos resting face.
The way she’s acting today makes her look more like Ernesto than any other day.
There’s tension pulling at the corners of her eyes, a shadow beneath her eyes even the flawless makeup doesn’t cover up.
Camilla holds a burgundy dress against her cheek, her eyes wide with delight.
"Look, Ale! This one matches the one you picked!" Her voice bubbles with excitement.
I kneel, smoothing the plush fabric. "It's perfect, mija, just like we talked about at home." The idea of Camilla and I matching is a small happiness that’s now becoming real.
Veronica offers only a small, strained smile as she runs a hand over a display of silk scarves, she’s restless. Hector is watching us closely so I signal for him to watch Camilla. I need to make sure my sister in law and friend is ok. Since the day I’ve met her she’s never been this serious.
"Vero, is everything alright?" I ask, my voice low in a whisper.
She turns, her smile faltering for a beat. "Just family drama, you know how it is. Nothing I can't handle." Her gaze flickers away.
My pang of exclusion tightens my chest, family drama.
I see the glint of steel in her eyes, the set of her jaw, and understand that whatever weighs on her, is not something she’s meant to share.
For the first time since we met a boundary has materialized between us.
For a moment, the comfortable friendship we have feels fragile, like thin ice.
I’m Ernesto's legal wife and Camilla's stepmom, but in the Damos legacy, I remain on the outside.
"I'm sorry, Ale. It's just… some things are better left unsaid. You really don't want to know." She shakes her head, and once again her eyes become distant. "Believe me."
I see the sincerity in her eyes, and I can understand her clearly. Some secrets are dark and dangerous, even for those within their inner circle. I smile accepting her explanation.
I can learn to navigate the superficial world of the Damos; the parties, the pleasantries, the careful dance of appearances. But the true depths of what lies beneath all their dealings is something I shouldn’t cross, even if I was nosy enough and wanted to..
"I get it," I say, squeezing her hand lightly.
Just then, Camilla emerges from the dressing room, a tiny vision in burgundy velvet. She spins in a slow circle, arms outstretched, her little hands balled in success.
"Ale! Tia! I look like a princess!" Her voice is filled with pure wonder, cutting through our tension.
The sight of her, so happy, melts any lingering anxiety I have left. Veronica's face brightens too, a genuine smile pushing away her shadows.
"Ah! Mila, you look so pretty!!" Veronica yells, her voice loud as she claps her hands, her eyes twinkling. "Now, let's find you a tiara."
“She's right, you’re absolutely stunning your highness." I laugh with them.
Two days later, the mansion is alive with a different kind of energy.
I sit in my vanity, the professional makeup artist Veronica sent is humming softly as she dabs a brush across my cheekbones.
The scent of powder and perfume mingles in the air around us.
Camilla, already dressed, bounces on the edge of the bed.
"Ale, tell the lady to hurry! Papi's going to leave us!" she chirps, kicking her legs impatiently.
I meet her gaze in the mirror and scrunch up my nose in response and the makeup artist giggles too. “Camilla, patience is a virtue.” Not gonna lie I’ve been waiting my entire life to say that line from The Mummy.
I take a look at my reflection and love the woman who looks right back at me.
The emerald gown from the Thanksgiving dinner party was beautiful, but this burgundy dress makes me feel different.
The color is a rich, deep wine that makes my olive skin glow.
My hair, styled in soft waves, frames my face, and the diamond earrings Veronica insists on shimmer against my neck.
Tonight, I am more than just a woman playing a part; I am a vision of power and elegance.
An image comes to my mind of Camilla, twirling around on the dance floor with Ernesto, her little hand in his, both of them looking so happy.
Mi nina hermosa. The thought catches me off guard.
For the first time, Camilla feels truly mine, not just by circumstance or contract, but by a bond forged in shared in our quiet moments and heartbreak.
The makeup artist finishes with a flourish and packs her kit, leaving me alone with Camilla. I slip on my matching velvet heels, "Alright, let's get your shoes on," I say, kneeling before Camilla.
I fasten the small buckles on her tiny Mary Janes, my fingers brushing against her white sock with the frilly lace on top.
A must have for a Mexican little girl. A knock at the door and Consuelo enters.
Her eyes, usually so sharp and observant, widen as she takes Camilla and I in.
She stops just inside the room, hand flying to her mouth, her eyes welling up.
"Ay, Senoras," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion as tears run down her cheeks.
Camilla and I exchange a quick, worried glance. "Consuelo, ?Qué tienes?" I ask, rising quickly, making my way towards her with Camilla following behind me, holding onto my hand.
Consuelo shakes her head, a soft, choked laugh escaping her.
"No, no, mija. Nothing is wrong." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand as a smile breaks through her tears.
"Hace anos que no se ve tanta felicidad en este lugar.
" She steps forward, pulling me into a warm embrace. "You and Camilla…bring us so much joy."
I immediately hug Consuelo in an attempt to calm her down. Camilla, confused, tugs at Consuelo’s dress, her brow furrowed. "But why are you crying, nana?"
Consuelo pulls away from me, patting my arm, and fixes her smile towards Camilla. "Just happy tears, mi nina."
Suddenly, Ernesto's voice, sharp and impatient, booms from downstairs, cutting through the tender moment making all three of us jump. "Alejandra! Camilla! If you're not down here in five minutes, I'm leaving without you!"
Camilla squeals, her eyes going wide.
"He's going to leave us!" She scrambles to grab my hand and pulls me towards the door.
"Okay, okay. Ya vamos!" I yell out the room as Consuelo hands me my matching clutch.
We rush out of the room, the burgundy velvet rustling around us, and practically fly down the grand staircase.
Ernesto stands at the foot of the stairs, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back.
His eyes, usually so guarded, widen as they sweep over me, then Camilla.
His breath, for a fraction of a second, seems to catch.
He extends an elbow to me, his gaze fixed on mine.
I walk toward him, a strange mix of apprehension and exhilaration coursing through me, and slip my hand into the crook of his arm.
Camilla, with a joyful giggle, takes his other hand, swinging it gently.
The three of us, as a family, step out the main doors.
Outside, a sleek, black sedan I've never seen before gleams under the porte-cochère lights.
Felipe and Hector stand by the open doors, their posture rigid, eyes scanning around never stopping in one single place too long.
The atmosphere shifts, tightening, the lightness of our preparation giving way to the cold reality of Ernesto's world.
Inside the SUV Ernesto turns to Camilla, his voice becoming very serious.
"Camilla, mija," he begins, his thumb stroking the back of her small hand.
"It's very important that tonight you stay close to me, or to Alejandra.
You cannot wander off, understand?" His gaze, usually so fierce, holds a softness for his daughter, but the command is unmistakable.
"It’s to keep you safe, okay. There will be many people at this event, and it can be very easy for a kid to get lost."
Camilla, still buzzing with excitement, nods enthusiastically. "Okay, Papi! I promise!" She bounces in her seat, oblivious to the seriousness of his words.
I lay a reassuring hand on her arm. "He's right, princess. There will be lots of bright lights and loud music, and it might be a little overwhelming, so try not to get too distracted. If you feel like you need a break, let one of us know. We’ll be right there with you.
" I try to inject a calming tone into my voice, to compliment Ernesto’s serious tone.
She is too young to grasp the true dangers, she only sees the magic of a party.
Ernesto's turn to meet my eyes, a silent acknowledgement passing between us. He appreciates my attempt to soften the edges, to frame it a way a child can understand. Taking my hand from his arm, he gives it a gentle squeeze, a rare gesture of approval.
The car slows, then stops. A wall of blinding white lights can be seen even through the tinted windows. A cacophony of clicks and shouts penetrate the car's thick glass. papárazzi.
Ernesto exhales slowly, a heavy breath. Looking at me one more time and I give him a smile as he opens his door, and the world outside roars to life.
He steps out, turns back towards us and extends his hand to Camilla first. She takes it, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and wonder at the bright chaos.
Once she’s out of the car and in Felipe’s sight, Ernesto turns and it’s my turn to make an entrance.
I take a deep breath, smooth down my gown, and step out. The lights are blinding making it hard to see beyond Ernesto. My eyes flick to Camilla, her tiny hand clinging to Ernesto’s. Her face, usually so animated, holds a bewildered stillness as the cameras flash, a tiny deer caught in headlights.
As we move through the crowd of photographers through a path made for us by our security detail, the sounds of the gala begin to filter through the open doors of the venue: muffled music, the drone of conversation, and the clinking of glasses.
We step inside, and the frenzy outside vanishes, replaced by an even more potent silence. When almost every head turns towards us and conversations die. All eyes, it seems, on the three of us.
A ripple of murmurs spreads through the opulent ballroom as I feel the weight of hundreds of stares, quiet assessments, and thinly veiled curiosity. Whispers begin to sound around the room as we make our way further inside. I catch snippets of ‘the Damos…’ ‘She's beautiful…’ ‘The little girl…’
Ernesto walks with a regal stride, his shoulders squared and his chin held high. He acknowledges no one as he fixes his gaze straight ahead. His presence alone commands every inch of the ballroom. Camilla, still clings to his hand, looking around with bewildered eyes.
My gaze sweeps the room, taking in the glittering chandeliers, the impossibly high ceilings, the parade of designer gowns and suits. Every person is a representation of wealth and influence, one of dangerous men and the women who stand beside them.
An older man, with eyes that linger too long on Camilla, sends a shiver down my spine. So, without thinking, I gently scoot Camilla over to me, positioning her between Ernesto and me. She bumps into my leg, looks up with a questioning glance, but doesn't resist. She is ours to protect.
Faces blur as people approach, a steady stream of introductions and greetings.
Hands are shaken, air kisses exchanged. I cling to Ernesto's side, as promised, my eyes, however, never stray from Camilla.
Her small hand remains tucked firmly in mine, her innocence a stark contrast to the calculating eyes around us.
I catch glimpses of Hector, moving like a phantom through the crowd, speaking in low tones to other men in dark suits, his gaze constantly sweeping the room. Felipe, always the sentinel, stands a few paces behind Ernesto, his eyes calculating the risks each time someone new comes to greet us.
If I didn’t know Ernesto better, I would say he was calm, but I know inside he’s raging.
His thumb traces restless patterns as he holds my arm, flicks his gaze from me to Camilla, always monitoring.
I can feel the tension radiating from his body.
My grip tightens on Camilla's hand. She is unaware, still captivated by the sparkle of the room, the magic of the night.
My only focus tonight is to keep our child safe, no matter what.