A millionaire discovers his maid protecting his crippled son and is shocked to learn the truth. Rubens Aguilar never imagined he’d find his maid protecting his son from his own wife. It was a Thursday afternoon in Guadalajara, and the typical September heat was making the leaves
of the jacaranda trees on Chapultepec Avenue limp.
Rubens had returned early from a business meeting, a rare occurrence for a 47-year-old man who controlled three textile factories in Mexico. His family business was well known throughout Jalisco, and he rarely arrived home before 8 p.m. As he parked his black BMW Duben in the
garage of the colonial house, Rubens heard agitated voices coming from the backyard.
One of them was familiar, the firm voice of Paola Montes, who had been working as a maid in his house for almost eight years. The other, shriller and angrier voice belonged to his wife, Lourdes. “Get out of the way, Paola. I’m his mother now,” Lourdes shouted. “With all due respect, ma’am, but little Diego needs to rest. The doctor said he can’t be in the sun for too long.” Paola responded with surprising calm. Ruben approached quietly, hiding behind the bougainvillea that adorned the stone wall. What he saw left him speechless. Paola, a 52-year-old woman with gray hair tied back in a simple bun, was standing between the
wheelchair of Diego, her 12-year-old son, and Lourdes, his second wife, barely 28. “This kid needs to stop being spoiled. In my day, children didn’t spend all day complaining,” Lourdes said, trying to push the wheelchair into the afternoon sun. “Mrs. Lourdes, please.” “Dieguito isn’t complaining, he just said he’s hot,” Paola explained,
gripping the chair’s handlebars tightly.
Diego, a skinny boy with large, expressive eyes like his father’s, looked up with a mixture of fear and gratitude. Since the car accident two years ago that took the life of his biological mother and left his legs paralyzed, he had become even more quiet and observant.
“Paola, you’re right, Mama Lourdes,” Diego said in a low voice. “Dr. Herrera said my skin turns red very quickly from the medications.” “Don’t contradict me, little one,” Lourdes replied, raising her voice. “You have to get used to the real world. You’re not going to spend your whole life hiding in the shadows.”
Rubens felt his blood boil.
He had married Lourdes just a year after the death of Carmen, his first wife, thinking that Diego needed a maternal figure. But in recent months, he had begun to notice small signs of impatience. of his young wife with the child. Excuse me, ma’am. But if Mr.
Rubens knew about this, Paola began. Rubens isn’t here, and even if he were, he’d agree with me.
He said I have complete authority over the child, Lourdes lied, moving closer to the wheelchair. At that moment, Rubens emerged from behind the plants, his face serious and his fists clenched. “Well, yes, I’m here, Lourdes, and I’d like to know what complete authority you’re talking about.” The
silence that followed was sharp. Lourdes turned pale.
Paola sighed in relief, and Diego smiled for the first time in weeks. But what Rubens didn’t know was that this discussion in the garden would bring to light much deeper secrets about his own family. Secrets that Paola had kept for years, waiting for the right moment to reveal them.
The next morning, Rubens couldn’t concentrate on anything. Sitting in his office in downtown Guadalajara, he stared out the window at the cathedral without really seeing it. The conversation between The previous night with Lourdes had been tense and revealing. She admitted loudly that she considered Diego a
hindrance and that she had married Rubens only for the money and social status.
The words still echoed in his head. Do you think a woman my age marries a widower for love? He wanted the cool Rubens life, not to be a nanny for a disabled man. Around 11 a.m., Rubens decided he needed to talk to someone who really knew his son.
He called the house and asked Paola to come to the office. An hour later, she was sitting in the leather chair in front of Caoba’s desk, her hands clasped in her lap and a serious expression. “Paola, you’ve been working in my house for eight years. You were the one who helped Carmen during her
pregnancy, the one who took care of Diego when he was a baby,” Rubens said, pouring two cups of coffee. “I need to know the truth.”
“How long have things been like this with Lourdes?” Paola said. She sighed deeply before answering. Mr. Rubens, I didn’t want to bother you with these things. I know how hard you work and the many worries you have. Paola, please. Diego is my son. There’s no bigger worry than that. Since our third month of marriage,
she admitted, looking him straight in the eyes.
Mrs. Lourdes began to show impa
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