“Mr. Valverde, in all my years here I’ve never seen you like this,” she said, moved. Ramiro didn’t respond. He just watched as his children laughed when Lucía told them stories about the flavors of food. She taught them to recognize each dish by smell, by touch, with little guessing games. “This is round, smooth, and smells sweet.”
“What do you think it is?” Lucía asked as she handed them a piece of fruit. “An apple,” Bruno shouted proudly. “No, a pear,” Leo corrected, laughing. They both guessed right and wrong at the same time, but the important thing was that they played, made mistakes, and tried again. In the afternoon, Lucía organized something that surprised everyone: a short walk through the gardens.
Bruno and Leo had never ventured beyond the terrace. Ramiro’s fear of them having an accident kept them secluded. “It’s dangerous,” he said when Lucía asked permission. “It’s necessary,” she replied calmly. “If you don’t know the world beyond these walls, you’ll never learn to trust yourself.”
Ramiro hesitated, but seeing the children’s anxious faces, he gave in. The garden, with its stone paths and rows of rosebushes, became a field of exploration. Lucía guided the twins, teaching them to identify the textures of the flowers, the sounds of the birds, and the difference between damp grass and the gravel of the path. “The world is not seen with the eyes alone,” she told them.
The world is something you touch, smell, hear, and feel. Bruno stretched his hands toward the sky and smiled. Leo, on the other hand, hugged a tree and refused to let go. It was then that Lucía saw them shine like never before. Ramiro, in the distance, froze. It was the first time he had seen his children move so freely, without fear, without total dependence.
That night, as he locked himself in his office, Ramiro opened the drawer where he kept Elena’s portrait. He looked at it, his eyes filled with emotion. “They’re different,” Lucía whispered. “It makes them different.” For the first time, she felt a pang of gratitude, but she immediately forced herself to toughen up. She couldn’t give in completely. Not yet.
And then the unexpected happened. A phone call broke the silence of the night. Ramiro answered angrily, thinking it was a business matter, but the voice on the other end made him tense. It was Mauricio, an old business partner and rival.
Ramiro, I heard you hired a nanny from the slums, he said sarcastically. You know how people talk, and I listen to a lot of people. Ramiro gripped the phone. What the hell are you implying? I’m just saying it’s not a good idea to mix your last name with, well, someone like that. You never know what their intentions are and if they’re after your money.
Ramiro hung up furiously, but Mauricio’s words had rekindled his doubts. The next morning, the tension was evident. Ramiro was drier in his dealings with Lucía, more vigilant. She noticed it immediately, though she didn’t ask anything. She focused on the children, who continued to advance on their path of discovery.
But another threat had already taken root inside the mansion: gossip, malicious comments from outsiders who didn’t understand what was going on within those walls. And Ramiro, who still couldn’t decide whether to trust Lucía or not, was at the center of that storm. Lucía, for her part, remained steadfast in her resolve.
As long as the twins needed her, she wouldn’t let anything or anyone interrupt their journey toward the light. The days at the Valverde mansion began to take on a strange routine. Bruno and Leo showed increasing enthusiasm for learning to navigate, to play, and to listen to the world around them. The children’s laughter filled the hallways, and Mrs. Gómez commented that she hadn’t remembered such a joyful atmosphere since Elena’s lifetime. Ramiro watched everything in silence.
Her heart resisted accepting the obvious, but her eyes confirmed it. Lucía was giving her children their lives back. However, Mauricio’s call continued to echo in her mind like a poisonous warning. What if he’s right, what if this is all a plan?
And if he just wants to win over the children so he can hurt me where it hurts the most. Ramiro didn’t say it out loud, but he thought it every night with a glass of whiskey in his hand. One afternoon, while Lucía was helping the twins identify musical instruments in the living room, she had them play the keys of a piano, the edge of a violin, the toy drum. The main bell rang.
The doorman came immediately, and a few minutes later, Mrs. Gómez came in, somewhat agitated. “Mr. Valverde, there’s someone outside who insists on seeing Lucía.” Ramiro raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “A person, who says his name is Darío?” Lucía’s face immediately tensed. The name was enough to make the color drain from her face.
“No, it can’t be,” he whispered. The twins, sensing the change in his tone, stood still. “Who is Lucía?” Leo asked, trembling. Lucía didn’t answer. Ramiro, not missing the detail, stood up abruptly. “Bring that man here.” Minutes later, Darío entered the lobby. He was a middle-aged man with a shrewd look and a cynical smile, dressed in cheap but clean clothes.
His eyes fixed on Lucía with a mixture of mockery and contempt. “So here you are, Lucía, very comfortable, huh? Millonarios’ nanny, it seems you’ve finally managed to climb into the position you wanted.” Ramiro frowned. “Who are you?” An old acquaintance. You could say in-laws, although to me it’s more of a burden.” Darío let out a bitter laugh. “I was your sister’s partner.”
Lucía clenched her fists. “You have no right to be here, Darío.” Ramiro felt a pent-up fury begin to boil inside him. “Explain yourself once and for all.” Darío shrugged his shoulders with feigned innocence. “I just came to warn you, Mr. Valverde, this woman, this Lucía, is not what she seems.”
She’s always had a special talent for making people believe in her. But behind that angelic face lies more darkness than she imagines. Lucía couldn’t contain herself. She took a step forward, trembling, but with a firm voice. Enough is enough, Darío. You have no right to make anything up about me. Make it up. He laughed.
Do you want to talk about your brother and how he ended up in prison? Or would you rather I tell you how you’ve always used the compassion of others to survive? The room froze. The twins, though they didn’t fully understand, clung to Lucía’s skirt, sensing the danger in the air. Ramiro, his face hardened, turned to her.
Is what you say true? Lucía took a deep breath, her eyes misty. My brother made mistakes, yes, but I’m not him. And surviving isn’t a crime, Mr. Valverde. I’ve suffered hunger, cold, and contempt. Do you think someone like me would have the strength to come here and deceive you? All I want is to take care of your children.
Darío smiled with satisfaction, like someone who plunges a knife and turns it. “I only tell the truth. You decide whether you trust it or not.” Ramiro didn’t respond. He sent the doorman to escort Darío out of the house, but the seed of doubt had already been planted. When the door closed, Lucía fell to her knees with the twins hugging her. Bruno caressed her face gropingly.
Don’t pay attention to him, Lucía, we know who you are. The tears flowed without her being able to stop them. Thank you, my children. Thank you. That night Ramiro entered the library and sank into an armchair, defeated by his thoughts. He remembered the sincerity in Lucía’s eyes, but also Darío’s poisoned words.
If I trust her and I’m wrong, I’ll lose the only thing I have left. But if I don’t trust her, I condemn my children to return to the darkness. The dilemma consumed him. Meanwhile, Lucía cried silently in her room, her heart heavy. The past she had so desperately wanted to leave behind had returned, and she feared that Ramiro would never look at her the same way again.
And in the midst of that emotional storm, the twins, who understood more than they let on, silently swore to each other: We won’t let her go. That night, the mansion was quieter than ever. A dense silence, filled with suspicion, open wounds, and invisible promises. And although no one knew it yet, Darío’s visit would be only the beginning of a series of trials that would test the bond between Lucía, the twins, and Ramiro. Darío’s words echoed in Ramiro’s head like hammer blows.
That night he could barely sleep. He paced his room, his brow furrowed, torn between anger and doubt. The memory of Lucía crying with the twins clutching her legs haunted him.
His instinct told him that scene had been genuine, but the seed of distrust, the one that had accompanied him throughout his business life, was already sprouting. He finally made a decision. He couldn’t kick Lucía out of the mansion without proof, but he also couldn’t continue ignoring what Darío was insinuating. If he wanted the truth, he had to see it with his own eyes. “If there’s something you’re hiding, Lucía, I’ll uncover it,” he whispered to the mirror as if speaking to it even though it wasn’t present.
The next day, the air in the mansion was heavy. Lucía tried to smile for the twins, but her eyes betrayed a deep emotional exhaustion. The children, intuitive, sensed the change in Ramiro. His voice had become sharper, his gaze harder, and his footsteps echoed in the hallways as if he were watching every corner. Bruno asked in a low voice.
Lucía, is Dad mad at you? She stroked his hair tenderly. “No, honey, he’s just worried.” But deep down, Lucía knew something was broken. That same day, Ramiro asked Mrs. Gómez to reorganize the cleaning duties and to give Lucía more freedom at certain times.
In reality, he did this to have more opportunities to observe her without her noticing. Thus began a silent routine. While Lucía played with the children, Ramiro followed her from a distance. From the balcony, he watched her guide her hands over the flowers, teaching them to recognize the different scents of the garden.
From the library, he heard her singing old lullabies to them, her voice so warm it echoed off the cold walls of the mansion. What he saw disconcerted him. There was no sign of deception or ulterior motives. Everything seemed sincere, and yet, the more he saw, the more distrust grew in him, as if that genuineness were too perfect to be real.
One afternoon, while the twins were resting after an intense day of sensory play, Lucía set off alone toward the stables. Ramiro, intrigued, followed her with silent steps. She stopped in front of an old horse that had belonged to Elena, Ramiro’s late wife. She stroked its mane tenderly and whispered, “You’re just like me, aren’t you? Everyone thinks you’re no good anymore, that you have no place here, but you can still give love, you can still teach.”
Ramiro froze. No one in the mansion had ever spoken that way about that forgotten horse, not even him. When Lucía knelt on the floor and began to pray silently, Ramiro felt like he was invading a sacred space. It wasn’t a farce for anyone, it wasn’t theater. It was Lucía alone, showing herself vulnerable, speaking to an animal as if it were a confidant.
For the first time in a long time, Ramiro felt a weight on his chest. Guilt. But that guilt soon mixed with something else. As evening fell, as he walked down the hallway, he heard Lucía in her room, crying silently. The door was ajar. “Don’t take him away from me,” she whispered, clutching a small wooden box. “Don’t take away the only good thing I have.”
Ramiro took a step back, as if those words had shocked him. He wanted to go in, to ask her, but he didn’t dare. He closed the door softly and walked away, feeling like he’d seen too much and still didn’t understand anything. In the following days, Ramiro redoubled his vigilance. He did something he’d never done before. He discreetly went through Lucía’s belongings.
He found nothing unusual, just simple clothes, a couple of notebooks filled with messy handwriting, and a worn photo of a small boy with a torn edge. That image disturbed him more than any accusation Darío had made. Who was that child? What did he mean to Lucía? The millionaire began to obsess.
Every gesture she made, every smile she made toward her children, every tear she hid confused him more. One night, Bruno and Leo made an unexpected request. “Dad, we want to sleep in Lucía’s room.” Ramiro stiffened. “Why? Because with her, we’re not afraid,” Bruno replied. “And because she tells us nice stories before bed,” Leo added. Ramiro pressed his lips together.
The idea of his children seeking refuge in someone else hurt him deeply, but he couldn’t refuse. They were happy, and that was what he had wanted from the beginning. So that night he stood in the darkness, watching through the crack as Lucía tucked the children in, stroked their foreheads, and whispered a made-up story about a pair of twins who learned to see with their hearts.
Ramiro silently felt something inside him begin to crack, and just as he was beginning to accept that perhaps he had misjudged, a new twist stopped him in his tracks. That same week, an envelope arrived at the mansion with no return address. Inside was a handwritten note. Do you really trust her? Ask her about the boy in the photo.
Ask her what happened to her and you’ll see who Lucía really is. Ramiro clenched the letter in his fists. The name of Elena, his dead wife, crossed his mind again like a ghost. Could he allow himself to let his guard down at that moment? The dilemma was unbearable. Between the tenderness in Lucía’s eyes and the shadows of her past that haunted her, Ramiro didn’t know if he was about to lose the best thing that had ever come into his life or open the door to his worst mistake.
Ramiro had been carrying the envelope in his pocket for days, as if the paper were burning against his skin. Every time he saw Lucía smile with the twins, every time he heard her soft voice filling the mansion’s halls, he felt like he was living a lie. That night, after dinner, he couldn’t resist any longer. He waited for Bruno and Leo to fall asleep in Lucía’s room.
Then he knocked on the door with a firmness that left no room for excuses. Lucía opened it with a tired expression. “Mr. Ramiro, eh?” “Yes,” he replied, entering without waiting for an invitation. “It just so happens that I need answers, and I need them now.” Lucía closed the door slowly, sensing the storm. Ramiro took the crumpled photograph of the child out of his pocket.
She held it in front of her with an accusatory gesture. “Explain who it is. Why are you keeping this? What relationship do you have with this boy?” Lucía paled. Her body tensed like a spring, and her eyes searched for an escape that didn’t exist. “It’s not what you think,” she stammered. “Then tell me what I should think,” Ramiro exclaimed, his voice laden with a rage that was deep down fear. “You’re hiding things from me, Lucía. I’ve seen you cry.”
I’ve heard you begging for something you don’t want to lose. And now this. Who the hell is this child? The silence was unbearable. Outside, the wind battered the windows as if accompanying the tension. Lucia finally spoke, her voice cracking. That child was my son.
Ramiro took a step back as if he’d been hit directly in the chest. Lucía trembled, but continued. His name was Daniel. He was 5 years old. He was born with the same condition as Bruno and Leo: blindness. I raised him because his father never wanted to take care of him. Ramiro listened frozen as the pieces of the puzzle began to painfully fall into place.
Lucía slumped into the chair, unable to stand. I fought with everything I had. I took him to doctors, to therapists, and invented games for him like the ones I now play with his children. But I had no money, no resources. And one winter, he got a lung condition. The hospital took him in, but they told me that without insurance, without money, they couldn’t give him the treatment he needed.
I couldn’t save him. Tears streamed down his face like an unstoppable river. He died in my arms. I promised him that never again would a blind child feel alone if I could prevent it. That’s why I took this job, Mr. Valverde. I didn’t come here for money or false compassion.
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