Part 3
When the police arrested Iván in the guest bedroom, Patricia still had me by the hair.
“Let her go!” Inspector Vega shouted from upstairs.
Patricia backed away, trembling.
“She set him up! Clara’s crazy!” Vega came downstairs with a tablet in her hand.
“We have your messages, Mrs. Salvatierra. The transfers to the nurse. The purchase of the sedative. And this video.” On the screen, Patricia appeared, slamming me against the banister.
Her voice came through, clear and cruel:
“Too clumsy to carry the heir.”
Álvaro came in behind the officers. His eyes were red. He didn’t look at his sister like family, but like a stranger.
“Patricia… what did you do?”
She ran toward him.
“I did it for you! For the company! That woman was going to take everything from us!” I got up with Vega’s help.
“No, Patricia. You were going to take everything from my son.” Álvaro knelt beside me.
“Clara, forgive me. I should have believed you.” I looked at him without hatred, but without weakness.
“Yes. You should have.” Patricia screamed when they put the handcuffs on her. Iván, from the hallway, said nothing. His expensive suit couldn’t hide the sweat or the fear.
Three months later, my son was born healthy in a clinic in Madrid. I named him Mateo.
Patricia awaited trial for attempted murder, assault, and conspiracy. Iván lost his license and his freedom. The nurse confessed.
I assumed legal guardianship of the Salvatierra estate until Mateo came of age. I sold the mansion.
I bought a bright house, without stairs, with an orange grove.
One morning, while Mateo slept on my chest, Álvaro asked me:
“Are you at peace now?” I watched my son breathe. And I smiled.
“No. Now I’m free.”
