Chapter 3 - The private office

The private office on the second floor of the Velasco mansion was designed to intimidate. Massive mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound ledgers, legal treatises, and hidden compartments.

Nicolás sat behind his massive desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Standing across from him was Dr. Emilio Vargas, a middle-aged man in a tailored gray suit whose forehead was beaded with nervous sweat.

"Explain yourself, Emilio," Nicolás said. The quiet menace in his tone made the doctor flinch.

"Mr. Velasco, I only just realized the discrepancy," Vargas stammered, pulling a tablet from his briefcase. "The fabric conditioner used in your nursery... it was part of a specialized batch imported from a boutique lab in Frankfurt. It wasn't supposed to be released to the public market yet."

"Yet my mother had it," Nicolás said. "How?"

"Doña Leonor purchased it directly through one of our secondary distribution accounts," Vargas admitted, his voice dropping. "She... she paid a significant premium to bypass customs declarations. Sir, that formula contains an experimental preservative designed for industrial textiles, not infant wear. If applied directly to sensitive skin over weeks, it causes systemic inflammation resembling a severe burn."

Nicolás’s eyes turned glacial. "My mother knew this?"

"I... I cannot speak to her intentions," Vargas whispered. "I only know that the logs show the shipment was flagged as toxic for pediatric use three months ago."

Nicolás stood up so violently that his heavy leather chair slammed back against the wall. The sound rattled the room.

"Get out," Nicolás snarled.

Vargas didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his briefcase and bolted from the office.

Downstairs in the nursery, Mateo woke up calm. His skin was already losing its angry red flush, the raw irritation subsiding under the cool, plain cotton sheets.

Valeria sat beside the crib, stroking her son's tiny hand with a tearful smile. "He’s smiling," she whispered, looking up at Sofía. "He hasn't smiled in two months."

Sofía adjusted the blanket. "The inflammation is receding. The dermatologist will be here soon to run formal allergy panels, but the worst is over."

The door swung open, and Nicolás strode in. His expression was a dark storm, his jaw locked so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek.

"Valeria," Nicolás said, his voice clipped. "Take Mateo to the secure east wing. Esteban will go with you."

Valeria looked at him, sensing the danger in the air. "Nicolás, what is going on?"

"Do as I say," he ordered.

Without another word, Valeria lifted Mateo into her arms and hurried from the room, followed by the elderly butler.

Sofía packed her medical bag, zipping it shut with a quiet click. "I should go. My shift at the General Hospital starts in two hours."

"You aren't going anywhere yet," Nicolás said, locking the nursery door behind Valeria.

Sofía turned to face him. "Mr. Velasco, my job here is done. The diagnosis is clear, the irritant is identified, and your son is safe."

"My mother didn't make a mistake," Nicolás said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he closed the distance between them. "The import logs prove she bought that chemical knowing it was flagged as toxic."

Sofía stopped packing. "Are you saying she tried to harm her own grandson?"

"I am saying my family is rotten to the core," Nicolás said bitterly. "And you have stumbled into a war you don't understand."

He pulled a thick white envelope from his inner jacket pocket and laid it on the dresser.

"Inside is a certified cashier's check for one million pesos," Nicolás said. "And the deed to a fully renovated clinic in downtown Mexico City, completely funded, with your name on the title."

Sofía stared at the envelope, then looked up into his hardened gray eyes. "Is this a bribe to keep quiet?"

"It is payment for your silence and your safety," Nicolás corrected sharply. "If my mother discovers you pieced this together, she will not hesitate to destroy you. Take the money, take the clinic, and disappear back into the public system where my enemies cannot reach you."

Sofía walked over to the dresser, picked up the thick envelope, and weighed it in her hand.

Nicolás watched her, a cynical smirk touching the corner of his lips. Everyone had a price.

Sofía opened the window slightly, letting the evening breeze catch the edge of the envelope. Then, she tossed it out into the garden below, watching it drift down toward the manicured hedges.

Nicolás’s smirk vanished. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I have my pride, Mr. Velasco," Sofía said, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think throwing money at people solves everything, but you're just as trapped in this mansion as your son was in those silk pajamas. You're surrounded by vipers, and instead of cutting them out, you try to buy me off so you can handle it alone."

Nicolás grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not painful. "You don't know what I am capable of."

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"Then show me," Sofía challenged, pulling her arm free. "Don't pay me to walk away. Stand up to your mother. Protect your son not just from his clothes, but from the people under your own roof."

Before Nicolás could answer, a loud crash echoed from the main hallway downstairs, followed by the sound of shattered glass and shouting.