2 p.m. on Monday. María González climbs the mansion’s stairs carrying her cleaning supplies and hearing a heartbreaking sound: the desperate cries of two babies echoing throughout the house. At 25, María has worked as a maid in this mansion for three weeks, but she never got used to this suffering. The twins have been crying for three hours straight today.

 Yesterday there were five, the day before yesterday six. “Good heavens, these children,” she whispers, stopping on the stairs to wipe the sweat from her brow. Alejandro Montemayor appears in the hallway looking lost. At 34, this millionaire businessman seems to have aged 10 years in the last few weeks

 The dark circles under his eyes are deep, his hair is a mess, and he walks like a ghost. “Wait, Ans!” shouts the handyman, who comes running up. It’s been more than two months since they’ve been able to sleep well. More than two months. Esperanza. A 50-year-old woman who has worked for the family for 20 years shakes her head sadly. She always writes down everything she sees in the house in an old notebook.

 Boss, you need to rest too. You can’t go on like this. Rest. Alejandro laughs half-heartedly. How am I supposed to rest listening to my daughters cry like that? What kind of father am I? Esperanza. María stops climbing the stairs. The pain in the man’s voice moves her. She lost a baby a year ago at four months of pregnancy

 He knows all too well what it’s like to see a child suffering. Alejandro takes the phone, his hands trembling. “Doctor, it’s Alejandro Montemayor again. I know I already spoke to you this morning, but my daughters are terrible. There has to be something you can do.” The voice on the phone says something that makes Alejandro even more nervous.

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do anymore? Pediatricians, neurologists, baby specialists have all come. I’ve spent more money than I have, and nothing helps.” He hangs up and slams his fist against the wall. “Alejandro.” Esperanza runs to him. “She can’t hurt herself too. It’s useless. Esperanza. I’m a useless father. I can’t even make my own daughters stop crying.”

María watches everything with a heavy heart. She has never seen a man so broken. His pain is real, raw, soul-stirring. The twins’ cries grow even louder from the room. Isabela and Sofía, three months old, fighting against something no one can understand

 “If they don’t get better soon, I can’t take it anymore,” Alejandro whispers, his voice breaking. At 3 p.m., Alejandro runs out of the house carrying the two babies in their strollers. “I’m going to the hospital again,” he shouts to Esperanza. “They have fevers from crying so much!” The mansion gate closes, and the house finally falls silent.

Maria sighs with relief, not because of the work, but because those little ones had a moment of peace. Poor things, she murmurs, finishing climbing upstairs to clean the floor above. When she reaches the door of the twins’ room, she stops. The air still smells of baby mixed with medicine. Two small cribs, pink and blue decorations, toys that are never used because the girls never stop crying to play.

Maria knows she shouldn’t go in there. Alejandro is very strict about who can touch his daughters’ room, but something pulls her inside. She takes a small pink outfit with bunny designs, hugs it to her chest, and closes her eyes. The memory of the baby she lost hits her like a knife. My little angel, she whispers, if you had been born, you would be the same age as them. An hour and a half later, the sound of the gate wakes her from her reverie

Alejandro is coming back. Maria runs to leave the room, but she stubs her toe on the dresser and knocks over a bottle of perfume. Oh, my God. She bends down to pick up the pieces when she hears footsteps on the stairs. The doctors don’t know what to do anymore. Alejandro shouts to Esperanza. They said they’re healthy, but they won’t stop crying.

 He enters the room carrying Isabela in his arms. The baby is red from crying so much. Her little face is swollen, her fists are clenched. “Daddy doesn’t know what to do anymore, my little girl,” he whispers, rocking the child affectionately. “Daddy is lost. Sofia in the stroller is crying too, a high-pitched sound that pierces the ear.”

 That’s when something inexplicable happens. Maria, still bent over, gathering the pieces of glass, looks at Isabela and without thinking, extends her arms. “Can I hold her a little?” Alejandro, on the verge of exhaustion, doesn’t hesitate. He places the baby in Maria’s arms. The silence is immediate. Isabela stops crying as if someone had pressed a button.

 The swollen little eyes open and fix on Maria’s face. A curious, calm look. What? Alejandro is speechless. Sofia in the stroller. She also stops crying. She turns her little head toward her sister and toward Maria, as if she understands that something has changed. “It’s okay, little one,” Maria whispers, gently rocking Isabela

What was bothering you? The baby closes her eyes and for the first time in over two months, she falls asleep for real. I can’t believe it. Alejandro takes Sofia from the stroller. The baby calms down immediately when he brings her closer to Maria. How did you do it? I don’t know, Mr. Alejandro, I just felt I needed to pick her up.

 Esperanza appears in the doorway and almost faints. Virgin of Guadalupe, how did she do it? These girls never stop crying, not even in their sleep. But Alejandro was already seeing it. He was there witnessing the impossible unfold before his eyes. “Maria,” he whispers, “I’ve been searching for an answer for three months. I spent a fortune on doctors, and you, you’re just sleeping,” Maria finishes, her eyes welling with tears, “truly sleeping.”

 The three of them stand there in silence, watching the twins sleep peacefully for the first time. Isabela in Maria’s arms, Sofia in her father’s arms, but snuggled up to the maid. That’s when they hear determined footsteps on the stairs, footsteps that make everyone’s blood run cold

 Alejandro, a female voice echoes down the hall. I’ve arrived for the girls’ appointment. Dr. Victoria del Valle appears in the doorway, looking like someone who’s always in charge. At 38, she commands respect just by entering the room. Spotless white coat, hair pulled back in a perfect bun, erect posture of someone who never loses control.

 Alejandro, how are the girls? She stops mid-sentence when she sees the scene. The twins are asleep, Alejandro is smiling for the first time in months, and a maid is carrying Isabela as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Victoria. Alejandro whispers, trying not to wake the babies. She’s not going to believe this. They’re finally asleep. María managed to get them to sleep. Victoria’s smile freezes on her face

 She’s been taking care of this family for three years. Three years since Alejandro’s wife died in childbirth, three years building a relationship, waiting for the right moment to get closer to him. And now some random maid shows up and does what she, a licensed doctor, couldn’t. Alejandro speaks in a controlled voice.

 Can I talk to you for a minute over there in the hallway? But Victoria, just look. They’re so quiet in the hallway, please. Alejandro senses the serious tone and signals to Maria to stay with the babies. He leaves the room behind the doctor

 Alejandro, do you realize what just happened? Victoria speaks softly, but with controlled anger. What? She got my daughters to sleep, Victoria, for the first time in three months. And do you know what this woman’s training is like? Do you know if she has any illnesses? Do you know if she did anything dangerous? Alejandro frowns. I hadn’t thought about that, Victoria.

 She just picked up Isabela and Alejandro. I’ve been a pediatrician for 15 years. I know how risky these situations can be. Three-month-old babies are very fragile. Anything wrong can cause a serious problem. But they’re fine, Victoria. Look how peacefully they’re sleeping for now

 But what if it was some kind of chemical reaction? What if something happened to their skin? What if it’s something that will harm them later? Victoria’s words plant a seed of doubt in Alejandro’s tired mind. He always trusted what she said. Victoria saved the twins when they were born prematurely. She is a respected professional, a family friend for years. Inside the room, Maria rocks Isabela, who is fast asleep.

Esperanza watches Sofia, who is also resting peacefully in the stroller. Young man, Esperanza whispers. How did you do it? I don’t know, Doña Esperanza. I just felt I needed to help. In 20 years working here, I’ve never seen anything like it. These girls never stop crying, not even when they’re asleep. And now look at them

 She points to the babies, sound asleep, their breathing calm, their faces relaxed, their little hands open. It’s a true miracle, complete hope. In the hallway, Victoria continues to sow doubt. Alejandro, I understand your desperation, but as a doctor, I can’t allow an untrained person to have direct contact with such young babies.

It’s a matter of responsibility. But Victoria, imagine if something happens to them. Imagine if they develop an allergy, an infection—you’d never forgive yourself, and neither would I as a responsible doctor. Alejandro runs a hand through his hair. Exhaustion is clouding his judgment.

 What do you think I should do? That she not have any more direct contact with the girls, for their own good. In the meantime, I’m going to adjust the medication. Perhaps that’s what was missing. Inside the room, María feels a chill. Something isn’t right. Isabela stirs a little in her arms, but continues to sleep

 Doña Esperanza whispers, the doctor always gives the girls medicine. Every day, young man. She says it’s to calm them down, but it never worked well. And she already gave it to them today. Not yet. She arrived a little while ago. María is left thinking. The twins slept without any medicine, only with affection, only with her touch.

 That’s when Alejandro returns to the room with a serious face. María speaks softly. Thank you for your help. But Dr. Victoria is right. It’s best if you don’t touch the girls anymore. María’s heart breaks. But, Mr. Alejandro, they’re fine. I know, but it could be dangerous. You’re not a doctor. It could have been luck, or it could have been something that will hurt them later.

 Maria gently places Isabela in the crib. The baby continues sleeping. I understand, Mr. Alejandro, but her eyes say it all. She doesn’t understand anything. She knows she helped those children, and now they’re taking her away. That’s why Victoria enters the room with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m going to give the girls their medication right now,” she announces, taking two syringes out of the medical bag. “They’re sleeping, doctor,” Esperanza comments

 “That’s precisely why it’s the best time to administer the medicine. They’ll sleep even deeper. Maria observes everything. A growing discomfort in her chest. Something about those syringes doesn’t seem right. Excuse me, she says softly and leaves the room. In the hallway, she hears Victoria speaking softly, more to herself. She almost ruined everything. Tuesday, 6 a.m.

 Maria arrives at work with a heavy heart. All weekend she couldn’t stop thinking about the twins. Did they sleep? Were they alright? When she enters the mansion, she hears exactly what she expected and feared: crying. Isabela and Sofia are crying in the room, louder and more desperate than before

 It’s as if they’ve reverted to their old state, only worse. They hardly slept at all over the weekend, Esperanza remarks when she sees Maria. The pattern is broken again, and the doctor increased the dosage of their medication. She said it was necessary to compensate for what happened on Friday. Maria frowns. Compensate. Why would she need to compensate for the fact that the twins slept? At 7 o’clock, Dr. Victoria arrives.

 She’s different today, more determined, more serious. Where’s the maid? Esperanza asks. She’s cleaning the ward, Doctor. Call her. I need to speak with her. Maria rushes upstairs, her heart racing. Victoria is waiting for her in the hallway. Arms crossed, a stern expression. Maria, right? Yes, Doctor

I need to make something very clear. You are not allowed to touch the creatures in this house under any circumstances. They are fragile babies who were born prematurely. Any wrong contact could cause a serious infection. But, Doctor, I was only helping. You didn’t help at all. You created a problem

 The girls spent the weekend agitated because their bodies were disrupted. Disrupted like cheap perfumes, cleaning products, bacteria. You work cleaning houses, right? Your hands carry germs that can be dangerous for babies. Every word of victory is like a slap in Maria’s face.

 The doctor speaks with an authority that leaves no room for questioning. You understand perfectly. You don’t touch the babies, you don’t enter their room. If I find out you disobeyed, I’m going to tell Mr. Alejandro to fire you immediately. Yes, Doctor. Perfect. Now I’m going to take care of my patients. Victoria enters the twins’ room and closes the door.

 Maria stands in the hallway, humiliated and confused. Did she really do something wrong? Did she hurt the babies unintentionally? Inside the room, Victoria takes a syringe out of the bag, but it’s not the same one Alejandro saw on Friday. This one is different, with a clear liquid that has no sedative in it

 Now we’re going to solve this little problem, she whispers, pouring the contents into Isabela’s bottle. The liquid is a mild stimulant that has no flavor but leaves the babies agitated for hours. Victoria has been using it in small doses for three months, ever since the twins were born. Her plan was simple: keep the children dependent on her medicine, become indispensable to Alejandro, and at the right moment discover the cure and marry him out of gratitude.

 But on Friday, a random maid almost destroyed three years of planning. Today, Victoria is doubling the dose. The twins are going to have a terrible week, and when she adjusts the medication again, Alejandro will be at her feet in gratitude. “There, my little ones,” she whispers to the babies. “Daddy will see that only Aunt Victoria can take care of you.”

 Isabela and Sofía unknowingly take the poisoned bottles. The effect will begin in an hour. In two hours, they will be screaming like never before. In the hallway, María cleans the floor, listening to the whimpers that are already growing louder. Her heart aches, but she can’t do anything. She was forbidden to.

 At 10:00, Alejandro arrives home from the office and finds his daughters in a crisis worse than all the others. “Victoria!” he shouts on the phone. “They’re terrible. What medicine did you give them?” “Calm down, Alejandro, it’s normal. Their systems were disrupted by the contact on Friday. I’m correcting it now. It’s going to get worse 

before it gets better. It’s going to get worse. Unfortunately, yes, but trust me. I’ve been a doctor for 15 years. I know what I’m doing.” Alejandro hangs up the phone and collapses onto the sofa in the room. The twins have been crying for four hours straight. It’s Tuesday, and they haven’t slept well since Sunday. “They’re going to die if this continues,” he whispers to himself, his voice breaking with despair

In the hallway, Maria hears everything and feels tears running down her face. She knows she could help. She knows the twins would calm down in her arms, but she’s forbidden to touch them. That’s when she realizes something that leaves her even more intrigued.

 In the bathroom trash, she sees an empty bottle of infant sedative, the same medicine the doctor said she gave the girls. If she gave them the sedative, Maria thinks, why is the bottle empty in the trash? And why are the girls worse off? The seed of suspicion begins to sprout in Maria’s heart. Something isn’t right. And if the person who should be caring for the twins is actually hurting them, the babies’ cries echo through the mansion like a cry for help, a cry that only Maria seems to understand, but which she is forbidden to answer. They will die if

Keep it up, Alejandro shouts to Victoria on the phone. And for the first time, María wonders, is that exactly the intention? Wednesday, noon. María is working downstairs in the mansion, listening to the twins’ crying, which hasn’t stopped for eight hours straight.

 It’s a sound that pierces her soul, mainly because she knows she could help. Esperanza appears in the kitchen with her notebook in hand and a worried expression. Young lady, can I talk to you? Of course, Doña Esperanza. I find what’s happening very strange.

 The girls only improved when you looked after them on Friday, and over the weekend they were worse than ever. María stops cleaning and looks at the key rack. Did you find it strange too? Very much so. And there’s something else, Esperanza looks around to make sure no one is listening. I’ve worked here for 20 years. I’ve never seen a baby cry like this. So, it’s not normal. Nor

It’s not bad. No. And another thing that caught my attention, the doctor always comes here every day now, but before the girls were born, she only showed up when the boss called her. Maria feels her heart race, she’s not crazy. There really is something wrong. Doña Esperanza, you write everything down in that little notebook, right? I do write it down, yes, it’s an old habit of mine.

I write down who comes, who leaves, at what times. And can you tell me what time the doctor arrives and what time the girls start crying the worst? Esperanza opens the notebook and glances through the pages. Look here. Monday, doctor arrived at 7, gave medicine at 7:30. Girls started screaming like crazy at 8:30

 And yesterday, Tuesday, the doctor arrived at 7:00 and gave them the medicine at 7:15. The girls started acting up at 8:15. Always an hour after the medicine. Always. But that must be normal, right? Sometimes medicine takes a while to work. Maria frowns. If the medicine is supposed to calm them down, why do the twins get worse afterward? Doña Esperanza, did you see which medicine the doctor throws in the trash?

 What do you mean? I saw some bottles of children’s sedative in the bathroom trash. If you’re giving the babies sedatives, why are the bottles empty in the trash? Esperanza is thoughtful. Now that she mentions it, it’s kind of strange too. Why throw away medicine you didn’t use? That’s when they hear quick footsteps on the stairs. Alejandro comes running down, his hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled.

Esperanza. Where’s Victoria? I called her, but she’s not answering. She hasn’t arrived today yet, boss. The girls have been screaming for eight hours, eight hours, Esperanza. They’re going to have seizures if this keeps up. Maria feels her chest tighten seeing his desperation. Mr. Alejandro, she says quietly, “Can I suggest something?” What? What if she tried not giving them the medicine today, just to see if it makes a difference? Alejandro looks at her as if she’s suggested something crazy

 Maria, they’re like this precisely because they need the medicine. Victoria explained that their bodies are, as she said, out of sorts. But what if that’s not it? What if the medicine is harming them? Maria. Alejandro raises his voice. Victoria is a licensed doctor. She knows what she’s doing. Maria lowers her head, but the suspicion in her mind only grows.

 The phone rings and Alejandro rushes to answer it. Victoria, thank God you need to come here urgently. The girls are terrible. Calm down, Alejandro. I’ll be there in half an hour. In the meantime, you can give them another dose of the medicine. It’s in the refrigerator. Alejandro goes to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He takes out a bottle of clear liquid.

 Esperanza, come help me give the babies their medicine. Maria observes everything and makes a decision. She needs to find out what’s really going on. At 2 p.m., she positions herself at the living room window, pretending to clean the glass. From there, she can see the twins’ room upstairs. Fifteen minutes later, Victoria arrives

 Maria notices that she doesn’t seem as worried as she should. In fact, she even seems relieved. From the window, Maria can see Victoria entering the twins’ room. She watches, and what she sees chills her to the bone. Victoria isn’t examining the babies, checking their temperature, listening to their heartbeats, nothing; she’s simply taking something out of the medical bag and putting it in their bottles. Doña Esperanza calls Maria softly, “Come and see something.”

Esperanza goes to the window. “What is it? Look up there.” The doctor isn’t examining the girls; she’s just putting something in their bottles. Esperanza watches and frowns. How strange. Shouldn’t she examine them before giving medicine?

 At that moment, they see Victoria leaving the room and talking to Alejandro in the hallway. They can’t hear, but from her expression, she’s reassuring him about something. “Doña Esperanza, when the doctor leaves, can you show me what medicine she left?” “Yes, I can.” An hour later, Victoria leaves the house. Esperanza and María go up to the twins’ room

 Look here, Esperanza shows the bottle in the refrigerator in the room. This is what she always leaves. María takes the bottle and reads the label. Calming, childlike, natural, she reads aloud. But look at this, Doña Esperanza. She shows her the back of the bottle. The lid is broken. Someone opened it and closed it again. How do you know? I’ve worked cleaning houses for years. I learned to notice these things.

Someone messed with this bottle. Esperanza looks more closely. You’re right. The lid is half crooked. That’s when they hear a different cry coming from the cribs. Isabela and Sofía start getting agitated again. An hour after the medicine, María whispers, exactly as you noted

 My God, Esperanza whispers. Is there anything Doña Esperanza can do for me? What? Tomorrow when the doctor comes, pretend you forgot something in the room and watch as she puts something in the medicine, but without her noticing. And if she notices, then we’ll know there’s really something wrong. Thursday, 6:30 a.m.

 María arrives at work anxious to know how the twins spent the night. Esperanza greets her at the door with a relieved expression. Young lady, it’s good you’re here. How was the night? The boss didn’t give them their medicine last night. And do you know what happened? What? The girls slept for six hours straight. Six hours. First time in months

 Maria feels a mixture of relief and confirmation of her suspicions. And this morning they’re still asleep. But the doctor arrived half an hour ago. She’s upstairs. I managed to observe her. I managed it, and you won’t believe what I saw. Esperanza pulls Maria to a corner of the kitchen and whispers.

 She took a syringe out of the bag and applied something to the medicine bottle, something she brought from outside. Are you sure? Absolutely. I saw her pierce the bottle cap with the syringe and inject a clear liquid. Holy Virgin. And there’s more. After applying it, she tasted a drop on her tongue. She tasted it to see if it had any flavor. I saw her face give a look of approval, as if she were checking to make sure it wasn’t noticeable

 Maria feels the blood on the maple. A doctor wouldn’t need to test medicine on the tongue unless she were mixing something that shouldn’t be there. Doña Esperanza, we need to talk to Mr. Alejandro. He won’t believe us. So we need more evidence. That’s when they hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

 Victoria appears in the kitchen with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Good morning, girls. The girls are doing great today, sleeping like angels.” “That’s wonderful, Doctor,” Esperanza replies, trying to hide her excitement. “I’m going to leave the usual medication. You can apply it every four hours.”

 Victoria leaves the house, but this time María notices something she hadn’t noticed before. The doctor is carrying two bags, the official one and a small thermal bag. Doña Esperanza saw that thermal bag. “Yes, I saw it. Doctors take thermal bags to patients’ homes.” “No, not that I know of. The regular medication is under special refrigeration.”

 Alejandro appears in the kitchen looking much better than he has in recent days. “Esperanza. I can’t believe the girls slept through the night.” “Yes, sir. That’s wonderful, isn’t it? Victoria said it’s because the new medication is working.” María and Esperanza exchange glances. They know it wasn’t the medication that worked, it was the absence of it

Mr. Alejandro, Maria takes a risk, don’t you find it strange that they only got better when they didn’t take their nighttime medicine? But they did take it. Victoria adjusted the formula, but you yourself said you didn’t give them the medicine last night. Alejandro stands up and thinks, “That’s right, I didn’t give it to them. I completely forgot.”

 I was so tired, and they got better. It was a coincidence, Mr. Alejandro, Esperanza inserts herself into the conversation. Can I say something? Sure. In 20 years working here, I’ve learned to observe, and there are a few things that are catching my attention. What things? The doctor always puts something in the medicine before leaving it here, and the girls always get worse exactly one hour after taking it.

 Alejandro frowns. Esperanza, what are you implying? I’m not implying anything, boss. I’m just saying what I see. At that moment, the twins’ crying starts up again upstairs. Isabela and Sofia have woken up and are already getting agitated. Alejandro sighs. I’m going to give them the medicine

 Mr. Alejandro, Maria says quickly, and what if we tried one more time without giving it to them, just to be sure? Maria, please, just today. If they get very sick, give them the medicine immediately. Alejandro is torn. On one hand, Victoria’s medical advice. On the other, the evidence with his own eyes.

 Okay, but if they get very sick, I’ll give them the medicine. Maria feels a glimmer of hope growing in her chest. Perhaps today they will discover the truth. At 10 a.m., something extraordinary happens. The twins, who woke up crying, gradually calm down on their own, without medicine, without intervention, just with their father’s love and normal care. I can’t believe it, whispers Alejandro, looking at his peaceful daughters.

Now he thinks there’s something wrong with that medicine, Maria asks. Alejandro is about to answer when the phone rings. Alejandro, it’s Victoria. How are the girls? They’re fine. Great. You gave them the medicine at the right time. Alejandro looks at Maria and Esperanza, who shake their heads. Yes, I gave it to them.

Perfect. I’ll arrive this afternoon to see how they’re reacting to the new treatment. When Alejandro hangs up, Maria realizes she lied to Victoria. Why did she lie? Because I want to be sure of something before accusing a doctor of what you’re thinking. And how can we be sure? Alejandro is silent for a moment

Let’s test the medicine. Thursday, 2 p.m. Alejandro, María, and Esperanza are in the kitchen looking at the bottle of medicine Victoria left. “How are we going to test this?” Alejandro asks. “My brother is a pharmacy technician,” says Esperanza. “He can analyze it without anyone knowing, but that will take time.”

 “There’s another way,” María interrupts. “We can see how the girls react with and without the medicine during the day. How? Simple. We divide the day into two periods. In the morning, they go without the medicine. In the afternoon, when the doctor arrives, we give them the medicine and see the difference.”

 Alejandro considers the proposal. “If they get sick, then we stop immediately and call another doctor.” “Okay, let’s try it.” All morning, the twins are calm, have their bowel movements normally, drink their milk without problems, and sleep when they should. Behavior of healthy babies

 At 2:30, Victoria arrives for the afternoon rounds. “How are my little patients?” “Fine,” Alejandro replies, watching her closely. “Great, the medicine is working perfectly.” Then Victoria goes upstairs to the twins’ room. Alejandro, María, and Esperanza stay downstairs waiting. Half an hour later, Victoria comes down.

 “All done, I gave the afternoon dose. They’re going to be very quiet now.” As soon as Victoria leaves the house, the three of them rush upstairs to the room. The twins are in their crib, seemingly normal. But Alejandro notices something. “Look at their eyes.”

 Isabela and Sofía’s eyes are wider than usual, almost glassy, ​​as if they’re seeing things that aren’t there. “Is that normal?” Alejandro asks. “No,” María replies. “Normal babies don’t stare like that.” Fifteen minutes later, like clockwork, the crying begins. But it’s not a normal baby cry. It’s the desperate cry of someone who’s feeling unwell.

 “Now I’m sure,” Alejandro says, his voice trembling with rage. “He’s poisoning my daughters.” “What are we going to do?” Esperanza asks. “Let’s test it.” Alejandro picks up the phone and calls a private doctor he knows. “Dr. Emiliano, this is Alejandro Montemayor. I need you to come to my house urgently to examine my daughters.” “No, it’s not an emergency, but it’s important. You can still come today.”

 While Alejandro is on the phone, María hears a strange noise in the garden. She looks out the window and sees Victoria standing behind the tree, watching the house. Doña Esperanza whispers, “Look out there.” Esperanza looks and turns pale. “She’s spying on us.” “Why?” “Because she knows we’ve discovered something.” At that moment, Alejandro hangs up the phone

 Dr. Emiliano is coming at 4. We’re going to find out exactly what’s in the girls’ blood, but they don’t know that Victoria heard everything from the open window and is already planning her next move. At 3:45, 15 minutes before Dr. Emiliano arrives, the phone rings. Alejandro, this is the neighborhood police station. We received a serious complaint about your house.

 What kind of complaint? Someone reported that one of your employees is giving controlled medications to your daughters without a prescription. Alejandro freezes. That’s a lie, sir. We need to go and verify. It’s protocol. But we’re on our way. Alejandro hangs up the phone and looks at María and Esperanza in despair. Someone reported us

 Who? Maria asks, but deep down she already knows the answer. Twenty minutes later, two patrol cars pull up in front of the mansion. Four police officers go up to the twins’ room, where they find Alejandro, Maria, and Esperanza caring for the crying babies. Who is the employee responsible for their care? The children’s doctors, the sergeant asks.

No one, Alejandro replies. They are cared for by a doctor. We have information that this woman is targeting Maria, administering medication without authorization. That’s a lie. That’s when Victoria appears in the doorway accompanied by another officer. Sergeant, as I reported by phone, I found evidence that this employee has been drugging the children.

She opens the medical bag and takes out a bottle of controlled medication. I found this hidden in your house. Maria is shocked. That’s not mine. I’ve never seen that bottle in my life, and I also found this. Victoria shows a piece of paper. Her notes on medication dosages

 Alejandro takes the paper from the policeman’s hands. It’s a forged prescription with treatments for Isabela and Sofía, signed by Dr. María González. “María,” Alejandro whispers, “how could you?” “Mr. Alejandro, I swear I never wrote that, I don’t know how to write prescriptions, and I’m not a doctor.” “Ma’am,” the sergeant says, “you need to come with us to clarify the situation.”

I’m not innocent. She’s the one who planted those things. But as Maria is taken away, Victoria approaches Alejandro. “I’m sorry, Alejandro. I know you trusted her, but I couldn’t let your daughters be at risk.” Alejandro looks at the twins, who are still crying, and at Victoria, who now seems to be the only person he can trust.

 He doesn’t notice the discreet smile of satisfaction on the doctor’s face. Friday, 8 a.m. Maria wakes up in a cold cell at the police station after a night that seemed endless. She spent hours trying to explain to investigators that she was framed, but no one believes her. “González, visit!” the policeman shouts. She gets up, expecting to see Alejandro

 or perhaps to Dr. Emiliano, who could confirm her innocence. But it is her mother, Doña Carmen Pérez, her face red with shame and rage. “Mama,” María whispers, “don’t tell me.” “Mama,” Doña Carmen explodes. “How could you do something like that? Poison little creatures.” “Mama, I didn’t do anything. It was the doctor who set me up.”

“Stop lying. It was in the newspaper, it was on television. Everyone in our neighborhood knows you forged prescriptions.” María feels the world collapsing. If her own mother doesn’t believe her, who will? “Mama, please, listen to me for a moment.” “I don’t want to hear anything.”

 You shamed our family. Your brothers can’t even leave the house, but I swear to you, as far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead. I never want to see your face again. Doña Carmen storms out, slamming the door. María throws herself on the cell floor and cries like she’s never cried in her life. At noon, the public defender arrives to talk with her.

 He’s a tired man who seems to have seen many similar cases. María, I’m going to be straight with you. The situation is complicated. They have physical evidence against you, but I’m innocent. Look, forging prescriptions is a serious crime. It can carry a sentence of two to eight years in prison. Someone planted those things. The doctor set everything up. You have proof.

 María remains silent. How can you prove something from inside a cell? And the children, she asks, how are they? That’s not my area. My job is to defend you against the crime you supposedly committed. Supposedly, well, technically you’re still innocent until proven guilty, but the evidence… he doesn’t need to finish the sentence

 Maria understands that even her own lawyer doesn’t believe her. That night, an older detainee approaches her in the cell. “First time here. I hope it’s the last. Everyone says that. What a crime. They say I forged prescriptions to drug babies.” The woman makes a face of disgust.

 Messing with children is serious business in here. If you really did that. I didn’t. I love those children more than my own life. Then someone screwed you over badly, and screwed you over badly. Maria spends another sleepless night thinking about Isabela and Sofia. They’ll be crying again. Victoria will have given them the stimulants again. Alejandro will have realized something.

 On Saturday morning, the news she feared most arrives via a guard. Those babies you poisoned were admitted in the early hours. Maria’s heart stops. What? They’re in pediatric intensive care, convulsions, very high fever. The doctors think it was an overdose of the medicine you gave them.

 Maria screams and runs toward the cell bars. No, I didn’t give them any medicine. Let me out. I need to talk to someone. Be quiet. You’re not going anywhere. They’re going to die. They don’t understand. It’s the doctor who’s killing them. But no one listens. Stop everyone there

 She’s just another criminal trying to escape responsibility. Maria throws herself on the cell floor, sobbing. Isabela and Sofia are dying, and the person who can save them is locked up in jail. On the other side, in the hospital corridors, Alejandro paces back and forth like a madman. His daughters are hooked up to machines, fighting for their lives.

 How did this happen, Victoria? he asks for the tenth time. Alejandro, I warned you, the maid was drugging them for weeks. Their bodies accumulated the substance, and now they’re having a reaction. But they were getting better. It was the effect of the drug. Now that we’ve stopped giving it to them, their bodies are going into withdrawal. Alejandro accepts the explanation because he has no other choice. Victoria is a doctor

 She knows what he’s talking about. What she doesn’t know is that at this exact moment, Victoria is administering even larger doses of stimulants to the twins. Her plan is simple: make the babies so ill that he will marry her out of desperation and gratitude when she finally cures them. In prison, Maria receives another devastating piece of news. Gonzalez, your case has gone national.

You are the most hated woman in Mexico now. And it was true; the story of the maid who poisoned the businessman’s twin babies was playing on every TV channel. Her picture was in every newspaper and website. Protests formed in front of the police station demanding justice. “Baby killer!” someone shouts from the street. “Jail for her!”

 Maria cowers in the corner of the cell. Her life has become a public hell, while the real culprit is treated like a hero for trying to save the children. But worst of all is knowing that while she rots in a cell, Isabela and Sofia are dying in the arms of the one who actually poisoned them.

 God whispers in the darkness of the cell. If you truly exist, protect those children. They don’t deserve this. And by some miracle, on the other side of town, someone is starting to ask questions Victoria didn’t expect. Sunday, 6 a.m. At San José Hospital, Alejandro hasn’t left his daughters’ side in 36 hours

 Isabela and Sofía are in pediatric intensive care with monitors showing worrying signs: fever that won’t break and small seizures that come in waves. “How are they, doctor?” Alejandro asks Dr. Hernández, the attending pediatrician. “Stable, but still worrying. We’ll have the toxicology results early tomorrow, and until then we’ll keep them hydrated and monitored.”

 Their bodies need to eliminate whatever is there naturally. Alejandro runs his hand over his face. Three days without sleeping well, without eating, without being able to think of anything else. Victoria arrives with a cup of coffee. “Alejandro, you need to rest a little.” “I can’t. Look at them, Victoria. I know it’s difficult, but they’re going to be okay. Trust me.”

 How are you so sure? Because I know this type of poisoning. I’ve seen similar cases. What Alejandro doesn’t know is that Victoria is lying. She’s never seen similar cases because she created this situation herself. Esperanza arrives to visit the twins. As the family’s employee for 20 years, she got permission. How did they spend the night, boss? Badly, Esperanza. Very badly.

 And María hasn’t gone to visit her yet. Alejandro feels uneasy after what he did. Boss, Esperanza says softly. Can I say something? As someone who’s known the family for so long. Tell him. I saw María with those girls. I saw the way she took care of them, the affection she had for them. That girl would never hurt a child.

 But evidence, evidence can be fabricated, boss, but the heart can’t. And her heart with the girls was pure. Alejandro is lost in thought. Deep down, he has doubts too. Esperanza, do you think I should go talk to her? I think I should at least hear her side of the story

 Victoria, who was looking at her cell phone, overhears the conversation and becomes alert. Alejandro interrupts. “Don’t you think it’s better to focus on the girls now? That woman is only going to make you more anxious.” Maybe you’re right, but Esperanza doesn’t give up. “Boss, may I ask a question?” “Sure. Since Maria was arrested, have the girls gotten better or worse?” The question lands like a bombshell. Alejandro had never thought about it that way.

They got worse. Then isn’t that strange? If she was really poisoning them, they shouldn’t get better without her. Victoria feels her heart race. Esperanza’s question is dangerous. Esperanza answers with medical authority, “Poisoning doesn’t work like that. It takes time for the body to eliminate substances. It’s normal for them to get worse before they get better.”

Ah, I understand. But Esperanza didn’t understand anything. In fact, she became even more distrustful. Boss, he whispers as Victoria walks away. He doesn’t think he should at least talk to Maria just to be sure. Alejandro looks at his daughters connected to the machines. Okay, but just to clear this up once and for all. What they don’t know is that this decision is going to start unraveling three years of lies.

Monday, 10 a.m. Alejandro sits in the delegation’s visiting room, nervous and angry, but also curious. When Maria appears, he’s struck by the change in her. In days she seems to have aged years, thin, pale, with dark circles under her eyes that speak volumes. Mr. Alejandro, she says softly, Maria, how are the girls? Why do you care after what they say you did? Because I love them more than anything in this world

 Alejandro studies her face. He doesn’t see malice, he doesn’t see lies, he sees real pain. Maria, explain something to me. If you truly love my daughters, why would you do that? Because I didn’t, Mr. Alejandro. I swear on my mother’s soul that I would never hurt those children. But they found evidence that was planted by Dr. Victoria.

Maria, that’s a very serious accusation. I know, but it’s the truth. Maria tells everything. The patterns she and Esperanza discovered, the tampered bottles, the way the twins always got worse after the medication. Mr. Alejandro, your daughters only became agitated after she gave them the medication. You saw that yourself on Thursday

 Alejandro remembers, it’s true. When she didn’t give them the medicine, the girls got better. But why would Victoria do something like that? I don’t know, I just know she’s doing it. Do you have any way of proving it from inside a cell? How? Alejandro leaves the police station, his head boiling. Maria’s words make sense, but they’re so serious that part of him doesn’t want to believe them.

 Back at the hospital, he finds Dr. Hernandez leaving the twins’ room. Doctor, how are they? Interestingly, they’re a little better today. The fever went down a degree. Really? Yes. If it continues like this, maybe we can remove some of the monitors tomorrow. Alejandro is thoughtful. The girls are improving in the hospital, away from any medication from Victoria.

Doctor, can I ask a technical question? Sure. If someone were giving a substance to keep babies agitated, would they get better when they stopped receiving that substance? Dr. Hernandez frowns. It would depend on the substance, but yes, if it were a stimulant, for example, they would gradually calm down when they stopped receiving it

 And how long would it take? About two or three days. Why? Just curious, but it’s not curiosity. Alejandro is starting to put the pieces together. At that moment, Victoria appears in the hallway. Alejandro, how are the girls? Better. The doctor said the fever has gone down. That’s good, he replies, but his expression doesn’t match relief. Victoria, can I ask you a question? Sure.

 What kind of medication were you giving the girls at home? Calming, natural. Why? The doctor said they might be improving because they stopped receiving some substance, wouldn’t it be the opposite? Victoria gets nervous. Every case is different, Alejandro, you can’t generalize. But you just said you were familiar with this type of poisoning

I know her, but every body reacts differently. Alejandro realizes his answers aren’t adding up. Victoria, did you bring any medication to apply today? I did, but I’m going to talk to Dr. Hernández. What medication, a vitamin supplement to help with recovery? Alejandro doesn’t answer, but decides to observe more closely. Tuesday, 8 a.m.

 Dr. Hernández calls Alejandro urgently. Mr. Montemayor, I need to talk to you. Something happened. The toxicology results for your daughters came back. Alejandro feels his stomach tighten; they have amphetamine in their blood. Amphetamine is a very strong stimulant. In babies, it can cause exactly the symptoms his daughters experienced

Doctor, where could that have come from? Only doctors have access to pure amphetamine, and based on the levels we found, the application has been done regularly for about two months. Alejandro feels his legs trembling. Two months ago was when Victoria started treating them. Who is Victoria? The family’s personal physician.

 Dr. Hernandez becomes serious. Mr. Montemayor, I need to inform you that we are going to report this to the authorities. This is child poisoning. At that moment, Victoria appears in the hallway. Alejandro, how are my little patients today? Victoria says in a controlled voice, the doctor wants to talk to you. About what? Dr. Hernandez introduces himself.

 Doctor, I’m Dr. Hernandez, head of intensive care. I need to clarify a few points about the treatment you were giving the children. Of course. What points? We found amphetamine in their blood. Victoria pales, but tries to hide it. Amphetamine. Impossible. I was only giving them natural sedatives.

 Do you have the prescription for that sedative? Of course. She looks in her bag, but takes longer than usual. How strange. I think I left it in the office. Doctor, Dr. Hernandez continues. The amount of amphetamine indicates regular administration for two months. Can you explain that? It must have been the maid. She was the one drugging the children

 But the maid has been in jail for 5 days, and the amphetamine level in her blood indicates recent administration. Victoria is speechless. Doctor, I’m going to need you to accompany us on our investigation. Investigation. Poisoning minors is a serious crime. The police are going to want to speak with you. That’s when Victoria realizes her world is collapsing, but she still doesn’t confess, she still tries to defend herself. This is a misunderstanding.

 I’ve been a respected doctor for 15 years. That’s precisely why it’s more serious, Dr. Hernandez replies. Alejandro, who listened to everything in silence, finally speaks. Victoria, look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. You were giving my daughters amphetamines, Alejandro, I never would. Look me in the eyes. Victoria tries to hold his gaze, but she can’t

 I can explain. Then she explains, but instead of confessing, she tries to run away. I need to get the documents from my office. I’ll be right back. You’re not going anywhere, says Dr. Hernandez. Hospital security has already been contacted. That’s when Victoria understands she has no way out.

 Tuesday, 2 p.m., in the hospital’s security room. Victoria sits between Alejandro, Dr. Hernandez, and two police investigators. She’s still trying to deny everything. “I never gave those children amphetamines,” she insists. “Doctor,” says one of the investigators, “we have the toxicology report.

 We have the Father’s statements, and we have his constant presence in the house during the period of intoxication. Coincidence. Do you have any explanation for the amphetamine in the babies’ blood? It was the maid. The maid doesn’t have access to medical amphetamines. You do.” Victoria remains silent. Alejandro can’t take it anymore. Victoria, for God’s sake, stop with that lie! My daughters almost died

I didn’t want them to die. The sentence slips out before she realizes it. It’s the first crack in her story. So, you admit you gave them something? the investigator asks. Victoria realizes her mistake and tries to backtrack. I didn’t mean that nobody wanted them to die. That’s not what she said. Yes, it was. Alejandro gets up nervously.

Victoria, you’re a doctor. You know that lying in a criminal investigation is worse for you. I’m not lying. Then explain to me why my daughters only got better when they stopped taking your medicine. They didn’t get better. They died. On Thursday, when I didn’t give them your medicine, they slept through the night. It was a coincidence

 And here at the hospital, without your medicine, they’re getting better every day. Victoria is cornered, but she’s still holding on. Alejandro, you’re very stressed. You’re not thinking straight. That’s when Dr. Hernandez intervenes. Doctor, we have the hospital’s security cameras. You were seen administering something to the creatures last night during the shift change. Victoria’s blood runs cold.

What cameras? The ICU has 24-hour monitoring. We want to know what you administered at 3 a.m. Victoria tries another lie. It was IV fluids. They were dehydrated. IV fluids don’t need to be hidden from nursing. Why didn’t you report it? Victoria has no answer. The investigator leans forward. Doctor, we’re going to make things easier for you

 We know you administered amphetamine. We have proof. The only thing we want to know now is why. Victoria looks around the room. Alejandro with hatred in his eyes. Dr. Hernández shaking his head, investigators waiting. She understands it’s over. “I” begins, her voice trembling. “Speak, Victoria,” Alejandro whispers. “At least that’s what you owe me.”

 I did it because the tears are starting to flow. Because I love you, Alejandro. The silence in the room is total. “I’ve loved you for years, since your wife died. And I thought, I thought that if I took care of the girls, if I became indispensable to them. You poisoned my daughters out of love,” Alejandro whispers incredulously.

 It wasn’t to hurt them, it was just so they would need me, so you would see that I was important, important. You almost killed them. The dose was small, calculated. I’m a doctor. I knew what I was doing, and when María managed to calm them down, that’s when I had to increase it a little. She was going to ruin everything. Increase. You increased the dose of drugs in my daughters out of jealousy

Victoria, he’s crying now. I love you so much. I’ve waited years for a chance. Alejandro gets up, trembling with rage. That’s not love, Victoria. That’s madness. Yes, it is love. Everything I did was for love. Love doesn’t hurt innocent creatures. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just wanted you to love me.

 The investigator signals to his colleagues. Doctor, she’s under arrest for attempted murder and practicing medicine without a license. As Victoria is led away, still screaming that she loves Alejandro, he remains in the room, devastated. Doctor, he tells Dr. Hernandez, I need to go after one person, an innocent person who’s in jail for a crime she didn’t commit.

 Wow, his daughters are safe now. And for the first time in months, Alejandro knows it’s true. Wednesday, 10 a.m. Alejandro has been at the station for three hours dealing with paperwork and bureaucracy, though Victoria confessed, “Getting someone out of jail isn’t simple.”

 Mr. Montemayor, the officer explains, Ms. Maria will be released today, but the case against her will only be officially closed in a few weeks, and she can stay home in the meantime. Yes, she can, and regarding compensation for emotional distress, I’ll take care of that later. Right now, I just want to get her out of here

 At 11:30, Maria finally leaves the cell. Five days that felt like five years. She carries a plastic bag with the few belongings she had when she was arrested. When she sees Alejandro in the hallway, she stops and faces him. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t show relief, only weariness and deep resentment. Maria, Mr. Alejandro, you’re free. Victoria confessed everything. I know.

 The officer told me. She was the one poisoning the girls. You were right from the beginning. Maria laughs, but it’s not funny at all. Yes, I was right. But you believed her for months and not me for a day. The sentence cuts Alejandro short like a knife. Maria, I know I was wrong. You were wrong. He shakes his head. Mr. Alejandro, you destroyed my life

 My own mother said I died to her. It was on TV that I’m a baby poisoner. I’m going to fix all that. How? How are you going to fix five days of hell? How are you going to make my mother love me again? Alejandro has no answer. Mr. Alejandro, thank you for getting me out of jail, but now I just want to go home and try to pick up the pieces of my life. And the girls are missing you.

 Maria stands in the doorway of the police station. How are they? Getting better every day. Without Victoria’s poison, they’re getting healthy. That’s good. Maria, please come back and take care of them. I can’t. Why? Because I don’t trust you anymore. And she leaves, leaving Alejandro alone on the sidewalk.

 understanding that it will be much harder to regain his trust than he imagined. First month. After a week of insisting, Maria finally agrees to return, but with strict conditions. “I’m coming back,” she tells Alejandro at his front door, “but not as a full-time employee. I’ll take care of the girls during the day and return home at night, every day. Fine. I want double what I earned before.

 It can be triple, and you stop trying to talk to me about personal matters. We’re employer and employee. That’s all. In the first few days, their relationship is icy. Maria arrives promptly at 7. She takes care of the twins with all the love in the world, but treats Alejandro as if he were invisible. Good morning

 Good morning. Did the girls sleep well? Yes, they had their milk at 5. Thank you. And that’s all. The twins, on the other hand, are flourishing with Maria back. It’s as if life has returned to normal for them. They sleep better, eat better, smile more. But Maria isn’t well. Alejandro notices she’s having nightmares.

 Sometimes she screams in her sleep on the living room sofa during the girls’ nap time. Other times she freezes when she hears police sirens. Maria, are you okay? I’m fine. It seems you didn’t sleep. My nights are none of your business. One afternoon, a reporter appears at the mansion’s door. Can I speak with Maria Gonzalez? Maria turns white as a sheet. I’m not going to talk to the press, Alejandro whispers to her. Leave it to me

Alejandro goes outside and talks to the journalist. When he returns, he finds María trembling in the bathroom. They’re gone. And if they find out where I live and if they show up at my mom’s house again, Alejandro sees that she’s having an anxiety attack. Breathe slowly. No one is going to bother you.

 How can you guarantee that? Because I’m going to hire security for you. I don’t need charity. It’s not charity. It’s my responsibility. I put you in that situation. It’s the first time Alejandro has taken real responsibility for what happened. Second month. The routine remains tense, but Alejandro notices small changes. María is still cold toward him, but sometimes she forgets and answers a question more naturally

How was the girls’ weekend? Isabela wants to crawl. She spends all her time trying to scoot around on the rug. Seriously, isn’t she too young? Every baby develops at their own pace. She’s curious, just like you. Maria realizes the conversation has veered off-professional and becomes cold again. I’m going to make her baby food.

 One day, Alejandro comes home and finds Maria crying in the garden while the twins sleep. Did something happen? Nothing you need to know. Maria, you’re crying. Something happened. I went to the market this morning and everyone stared at me. A woman told her grandson that I was the woman who poisoned babies. Alejandro feels his chest tighten. I’m so sorry.

 It’s no use being sorry. The damage is already done. I’m going to give a TV interview. I’m going to explain everything, and do you think it will help, that people will stop seeing me as a monster? Alejandro doesn’t know what to say. Maria, let me help. You’ve already helped me too much.

 That night, Alejandro calls a well-known journalist and schedules an interview for the following week. If he caused the problem, he’s going to try to fix it. Third month. Alejandro’s interview is well-received. He tells the whole story. He takes the blame for believing Victoria’s lies and publicly apologizes to Maria. Maria Gonzalez is an honest, hardworking woman who was the victim of a criminal doctor

 I made the mistake of doubting her when I should have trusted her. I publicly apologize for that. Some newspapers are running reports on the case, showing the other side of the story. Little by little, public opinion is beginning to change, but at home, María remains distant. “I saw her interview,” she remarks one morning, “and it was nice, but it still doesn’t change what happened.”

 I know, but it’s a start. That same month, something important happens. Doña Carmen appears at the mansion. “I want to talk to my daughter.” Alejandro calls María, who tenses up at the sight of her mother. “Mom, I came to apologize.” María doesn’t answer. “I saw his interview on television. I understood that you were telling the truth from the beginning.”

You didn’t believe me when I needed you most. I know, and I’m so sorry. Sorry doesn’t bring back the days I spent alone in jail. Maria, please, you’re my daughter. I love you. You said I was dead to you. Doña Carmen starts to cry. I said stupid things. I was angry, ashamed, but you’ll always be my daughter. Maria cries too, but she still can’t forgive.

I need time, Mom. How much time? I don’t know. I just know it’s not easy to trust anyone. Now, four months. Maria finally agrees to have lunch at her mother’s house one Sunday. It’s the first step toward family reconciliation. How are the girls? Doña Carmen asks. Beautiful. Isabela is already walking, and Sofia is trying. And the boss treats you well. He treats me well

I have nothing to complain about. Maria, can I say something? You may. I see in your eyes that you like him. There’s nothing wrong with that, Mom. He’s a good man and single. He’s my boss. I’m an employee. So what? You’re an honest, hardworking, loving woman. Any man would be lucky to have you. Maria remains silent.

 For months she hasn’t thought of herself as a woman, only as the twins’ caretaker. At the mansion, Alejandro is also changing. He’s begun to observe María more, not just as his daughters’ nanny, but as a person. He sees how loving, dedicated, and intelligent she is. One afternoon he finds her teaching Isabela to clap. “Come on, little one, clap.”

 Isabela laughs and tries to imitate, but her little hands aren’t quite right. She’s learning fast, Alejandro remarks. They’re very clever, María replies. Both of them, just like their mom. María stops playing with Isabela. They aren’t my daughters, but you take care of them as if they were. It’s my job. Just work. María looks him in the eyes for the first time in months.

 What do you mean? That I see how you look at them, how you take care of them, how they smile when they see you. That’s not just work, Mr. Alejandro, and I see how they look at you. To them, you’re a mom. I can’t be a mom to daughters who aren’t mine. Yes, you can. A mom is the one who takes care of them, who loves them, who is present. María nervously touches Isabela’s toy

 Why are you telling me this? Because I want you to know that I admire you very much. It’s the first time Alejandro has shown romantic interest, but subtly. Fifth and sixth month. The relationship between them is gradually warming up. Conversations that begin about the twins and end up on personal matters. Maria, can I ask you something? May I? Why do you have such a gift with children? Maria is silent for a moment. Because I lost one. What? Two years ago I was pregnant.

 I lost the baby in the fourth month. Alejandro feels a tightness in his chest. I’m so sorry. That’s why I identify so much with your daughters. They’re the age my son would be. Son. It was a boy. I was going to name him Miguel. For the first time since he came back. Maria looks directly into his eyes

 That’s why it hurt so much when you thought I would hurt them. After losing my own son, I would never hurt someone else’s child. Alejandro remains silent, understanding for the first time the true extent of the pain he caused. In June, on the twins’ six-month birthday, Alejandro organizes a small party. He invites Doña Carmen, Esperanza, and a few close friends

 “Thank you for including me,” Maria says when he hands her the invitation. “Of course, you’re part of the family.” During the party, Alejandro watches Maria playing with Isabela and Sofia. He smiles genuinely for the first time in months and realizes he’s in love.

 At the end of the party, when Maria leaves, he walks her to the gate. “Thank you for the party. The girls loved it. Maria, don’t you look beautiful today?” Smiling, she becomes embarrassed. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile like that.” “It’s just that the girls make me happy. Only them.” Maria looks at him, understanding the question she didn’t ask. “Good night, Alejandro.” It’s the first time in six months that she calls him by his name, without “Mr.”

Seventh month. Things definitely change between them. Maria continues to return to his house every day, but the conversations become longer, more intimate. “Alejandro, can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “Did you love your wife?” “Why do you want to know?” “Curiosity.”

 Alejandro thinks before answering, “I learned to love her, but it wasn’t love at first sight. How so? The marriage was arranged by the families, but over time I developed affection, respect. And when she died, I thought I would never feel anything for anyone again. And now, now I’ve discovered I was wrong.” Maria’s heart races

 Alejandro, can I finish? She nods. I discovered that it’s possible to truly love. To love someone for who they are, for the way they care for others, for their strength. I don’t know where you’re going with this. I want to get to the fact that I fell in love with you. Maria remains silent for a long time. She can’t say that.

 Why? Because I’m afraid. Of what? Of believing and then discovering that he’s lying. I would never lie about this. He’s already lied about other things. I never lied, I just made a mistake and learned my lesson. What lesson? That trusting someone is betting on the person, even when everything seems to be against them. Maria feels her eyes fill with tears.

 Alejandro, I fell in love with you too, but I’m very afraid. Of what? Of being happy and then losing everything again. You’re not going to lose. How do you know? Because this time I’m going to fight for you, for us. Eighth month. In August, when the twins turn eight months old, Alejandro finally confesses his feelings for real

 They are in the garden watching Isabela and Sofía trying to stand up, leaning on the coffee table. “They’re almost walking,” María remarks. And Isabela, also speaking, says to her, “Mom, yesterday it was for you, it wasn’t looking at you.” María smiles. It must have been a coincidence. It wasn’t, she doesn’t recognize you as Mom. At that moment, Sofía babbles “Mom,” looking directly at María. Both of them, Alejandro whispers.

 María can’t hold back her tears. Alejandro, what if it goes wrong? What if it doesn’t work out? What if it goes well? She looks him in the eyes. You truly love me. I love you more than anything. Even though I’m poor, money doesn’t make anyone better or worse. You have something that money can’t buy. What? A good heart. And that’s what matters.

 And your family, your friends, what are they going to say? They’re going to say I’m the luckiest man in the world. Maria finally smiles. Okay. Is it okay? What’s okay? I agree to try. I agree to see if it can work out between us. Alejandro pulls her into a careful embrace. I love you, Maria. I love you too. A year later, in the garden of the same mansion where it all began, Alejandro and Maria marry in a small, moving ceremony

 Isabela and Sofía, now one year and four months old, run around the garden taking their first unsteady steps. Doña Carmen is in the front row, proud of her daughter. Esperanza was promoted to Head Housekeeper and received a raise. Alejandro’s family accepted María after getting to know her better. During the ceremony, the twins make everyone laugh when they shout “Mama” in the middle of the vows.

 “I think they approve,” the father remarks with a smile. After the party, as the guests leave, the new family gathers in the girls’ room. “They’ve grown so much,” María whispers, watching the twins sleeping peacefully. “And they’re going to grow up knowing they were loved from the time they were little by a woman who chose to be their mom.”

chose. Yes, because a mother isn’t just the one who gives birth, she’s the one who chooses to love. Maria smiles and settles down next to her husband. Thank you. Why? For giving me the opportunity to be a mother and to be happy. Thank you for teaching me what true love is. And far away, in a women’s penitentiary, Victoria watches the news report showing the wedding.

 She lost everything she wanted. Alejandro, her career, her freedom, but justice was served. In the mansion, Isabela and Sofia sleep knowing they are loved. And Maria finally understands that sometimes the family we choose is stronger than our blood family. Love triumphed, and this time, forever. Did you like this story? Did Victoria get what she deserved, or was it too little? Tell me in the comments. Until the next story. M.