Chapter 2 - The Confrontation in the Garden
The silence that followed Mónica’s sharp voice was deafening. It was the kind of silence that didn't just lack sound; it carried weight, pressing down on the wet grass, the dripping hose, and the small, trembling shoulders of two seven-year-old boys.
Mateo’s grip on his brother’s muddy hand tightened. Santiago looked down at his bare, dirt-caked feet, the radiant joy that had lit up his face only moments ago vanishing as if wiped away by an eraser.
"This is unacceptable," Mónica repeated, her heels sinking slightly into the soft earth as she stepped closer. "Javier, look at them. Look at this woman. She is paid to maintain order and discipline, not to turn your home into a pigsty."
Patricia stood completely still. Her hands, red from the cold water of the hose, trembled slightly as she smoothed down her damp apron. She kept her head lowered, a defensive instinct honed by years of working in households where the staff were expected to be invisible, flawless, and silent.
"I am sorry, Mr. Mendoza," Patricia said, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I will clean them up immediately. It won't happen again."
Javier looked from Patricia’s downcast face to Mónica’s fierce, triumphant expression. For two years, Mónica had entered his house like an inspector general. Every time she visited, she left behind a trail of subtle criticisms: the house was too cold, the boys were too quiet, the nanny was too uneducated, Javier was too absent. And for two years, paralyzed by the grief of losing his wife, Valeria, Javier had let her words pass unchallenged. He had believed that because Mónica was Valeria’s sister, her harshness was just a warped form of care.
But looking at his sons now—who looked as though they were awaiting a prison sentence for the crime of laughing—something shifted inside him. A dormant spark of protective anger flared.
"Mónica, stop," Javier said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the cold, absolute authority he used in boardrooms to silence hostile takeovers.
Mónica blinked, surprised. "Excuse me? Javier, I am trying to help you. Valeria would be horrified if she saw—"
"Valeria loved the rain," Javier interrupted, his voice softening slightly but remaining firm. "She was the first one to run outside when a storm hit. Do you remember that, Mónica? Or have you forgotten your own sister's spirit?"
Mónica’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
Javier stepped forward, ignoring the mud that instantly ruined his expensive leather shoes. He walked right past Mónica and knelt down in front of his sons. He didn't care about his custom-tailored suit. He reached out and gently touched Santiago’s muddy cheek.
"Did you have fun?" Javier asked softly.
The twins looked at each other, confused by this unexpected reaction. Finally, Mateo nodded slowly. "We were building a castle, Dad. Paty said the mud was the cement."
"And did the castle have a moat?" Javier asked, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Yes! With real water!" Santiago piped up, his fear beginning to melt away.
Javier stood up and looked at Patricia. For the first time, he really looked at her. She wasn't just a face in a blue uniform. She had warm, resilient eyes that had managed to bring life back to a house that had felt like a mausoleum for twenty-four months.
"Patricia," Javier said.
"Yes, sir?" she replied, bracing for the worst.
"Thank you," Javier said. "But next time, make sure they leave some mud for me to play with too."
A collective gasp seemed to leave the garden. Patricia’s eyes widened, and a brilliant, relieved smile broke across her face. The twins let out a cheer, while Mónica’s face turned an angry shade of crimson.
"Javier, you have lost your mind," Mónica hissed, clutching her folder of documents tighter. "We need to talk. Inside. Now."
"We do," Javier agreed, turning back to his sons. "Boys, go with Patricia and get cleaned up. I'll come up to say goodnight in a little bit."
"Okay, Dad!" the twins chimed in unison. As they walked away, Santiago took Patricia's hand. "Auntie Paty, can we have hot cocoa after?"
"If your dad allows it," Patricia whispered back, glancing gratefully over her shoulder at Javier.
May you like
"I allow it," Javier called out.
As the back door closed behind them, Javier turned to face his sister-in-law. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. "Let's go to the study, Mónica. Let's see what is so urgent that you had to humiliate my staff and terrify my children."
