He didn’t even look at her.
—Don’t get me into trouble.
Alejandro took out his wallet again, but not to pay.
He took out a black card.
She showed it to the paramedic.
—Transfer her to the Santa Elena Private Hospital. I’ll cover everything. Neonatology, surgery, whatever she needs.
The paramedic blinked.
—Sir, the patient is in serious condition. That transfer…
—I’ll take care of it. But it’s already moving.
The man stepped forward.
—No. It’s not going to any private firm. I’m not signing anything.
Alejandro finally turned towards him.
And he spoke with a gentleness that was more frightening than a scream.
—You’re not going to decide anything tonight.
—And who’s going to stop me?
-I.
There was a second of brutal tension.
Then the paramedic said, dryly:
—If you interfere, I’ll call the police and report negligence and obstetric violence. The choice is yours.
That time he did back down.
Out of cowardice.
Not out of conscience.
They carried the stretcher out in the rain.
Lucía followed behind, crying, with empty arms and a distraught look.
Then Alexander saw the following problem.
The twins.
The girl looked at the cardboard box and then at the ambulance.
Her face said the impossible: she wanted to run with her mother, but she couldn’t abandon the babies.
Alejandro made a decision without thinking twice.
—I’ll take the children. You get in with her.
Lucia looked at him suspiciously, terrified, as if even the help had a hidden price.
It was logical.
By that age he had already learned that he had almost everything in the world.
“I give you my word,” he said. “I’m not going to separate you from them.”
The girl swallowed.
He nodded.
The paramedics received Lucia in the ambulance.
Alejandro wrapped the babies in the least damp blankets he could find, picked up the box, and went out into the storm.
As he passed by the man, the man murmured:
—He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
Alejandro barely stopped.
—I know it better than you can imagine.
He left it behind.
In the private hospital, the speed of money did what misery never allows: open doors, doctors running, operating room ready, incubators, tests, antibiotics, blood.
The woman was admitted as an emergency patient.
Lucia stayed in a white room, sitting in a chair that was too big for her body, her hands reddened by the cold and her clothes still wet.
The twins, finally fed, slept nearby.
Alejandro watched the girl for several minutes without speaking.
She didn’t speak either.
He just stared at the door through which his mother had been taken away.
Finally, he sat down opposite her.
—What’s your mom’s name?
—Mariana.
—And that man?
Lucia took a while to respond.
As if saying his name could summon him.
—Ramiro.
—Is he your dad?
The girl denied it.
-No.
—The one for babies?
He nodded.
She remained silent again.
Alejandro waited.
I had learned years ago that sometimes silence asks more questions than words.
“My mom worked cleaning houses,” she finally said. “When she got sick, he said he was going to take care of her. Then he said he couldn’t work anymore because he had to be with the babies. After that, he started selling things. The stove. The fan. The working phone.”
-And you?
—I used to take care of my little brothers.
She said it with a nonchalance that broke your heart.
Did Ramiro hit you?
Lucia lowered her gaze.
He didn’t answer.
It wasn’t necessary.
Alejandro felt an old pressure in his chest.
A memory.
He didn’t invite her. She arrived alone.
She was eleven when she saw her own mother hiding a bruise with cheap makeup. She was twelve when she learned to recognize the sound of a slap on the other side of a wall. She was thirteen when the man who shared her last name left her at the hospital and said it was “just a slip.”
Her mother’s name was also Mariana.
It wasn’t the same face.
It wasn’t the same life.
But that absurd coincidence hit him where it hurt the most.
Perhaps that’s why she never married.
Perhaps that’s why he had built companies, hotels, towers, foundations and a reputation as an impeccable man, while inside he was still the child who one night understood that money doesn’t always arrive on time.
A doctor approached.
—Mr. Castillo.
Alejandro stood up.
Lucia too.
—The patient arrived with a severe infection after a complicated delivery. There was also a poorly managed hemorrhage. Frankly, a few more hours and we wouldn’t have made it.
Lucia started crying again.
“But is he alive?” asked Alejandro.
—For now, yes. She’s in surgery. There’s something else…
The doctor hesitated.
—She has injuries that are not explained by childbirth. Old and recent bruises. We suspect sustained physical violence.
Alejandro nodded only once.
He didn’t seem surprised.
Just colder.
—Activate protocol. Social work. Public Prosecutor’s Office. Child protection.
—It’s already underway.
Lucía heard that last sentence and was startled.
—No… don’t call the police… if Ramiro gets angry…
Alejandro crouched down to be at her level.
Listen to me carefully. This time he’s not going to be in charge again.
The girl watched him with a strange mixture of terror and need.
