Chapter 3 - Unveiling the Mask
The study was the most formal room in the mansion. Mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, filled with first-edition classics Valeria had collected and financial journals Javier never had time to read.
Mónica sat in the leather armchair across from Javier’s desk, her posture rigid. She threw the folder onto the desk with a heavy thud.
"This," Mónica began, "is the quarterly report on Valeria's trust fund. As the co-executor, I have the right to review how her legacy is being handled. And frankly, Javier, I am deeply concerned about the environment my nephews are growing up in."
Javier didn't open the folder. Instead, he leaned back, crossing his legs. "Explain."
"Your children are wild," Mónica said smoothly, her lawyer persona taking over. "They are falling behind in their social etiquette. That... woman you hired, Patricia. She is a maid, Javier. Not a governess. She has no qualifications, no degrees in child development. She speaks with a regional accent, and now she has your children rolling in the dirt like stray dogs. It’s a disgrace to Valeria's memory."
Javier felt a dangerous heat rising in his chest, but he kept his voice icy calm. "Valeria's memory is not a museum, Mónica. And my children are not exhibits. For two years, I have hired the best child psychologists, the most expensive nannies with degrees from Switzerland and the UK. Do you know what they did? They made my kids quiet. They made them polite. And they made them miserable."
He leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the desk. "Today, for the first time since Valeria died, I heard my sons laugh. Truly laugh. And it wasn't because of a high-tech toy or an expensive tutor. It was because of Patricia. It was because she treated them like children, not like projects."
Mónica’s eyes narrowed. "You are being emotional, Javier. You are letting guilt blind you because you are never here. If you can't supervise this household properly, perhaps we need to discuss a change in custody. The court would look very closely at an absentee father who lets domestic staff neglect his children's hygiene and discipline."
It was a threat. A direct, calculated threat.
Javier felt a chill run down his spine, but it wasn't fear; it was the cold, calculating instinct of a man who had built an empire from nothing. He realized then that Mónica didn't care about the boys' well-being. She cared about control. She cared about the influence she maintained over the Mendoza family estate through Valeria's trust.
"Are you threatening me with a custody battle, Mónica?" Javier asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"I am merely pointing out that as their aunt, I have a duty to ensure they are raised in a manner fitting of their status," Mónica replied, rising from her chair and smoothing her skirt. "Think about it, Javier. I want that woman gone by Monday. If she isn't, I will file a formal complaint with the family court regarding the neglect of the twins."
She didn't wait for him to reply. She walked out of the study, the sharp click-clack of her heels echoing through the quiet house like a ticking time bomb.
May you like
Javier sat alone in the dimming light of his study. For a long time, he didn't move. He looked at the folder on his desk, then out the window at the muddy patch of lawn where his children had been so happy just an hour ago.
He picked up his phone and dialed his assistant. "Lucia? Clear my schedule for next week. No meetings, no flights, no exceptions. I am working from home."
