Chapter 4 - The Master's Absence
The next morning, the Del Monte mansion resumed its gilded routine. The sun rose over the mountains, casting a brilliant light through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the main dining room. Clara stood in the corner, her uniform immaculate, her face a mask of professional neutrality as she assisted the head butler, Andrés, in setting the silver for breakfast.
Verónica sat at the head of the long marble table, sipping her black coffee while scrolling through a luxury fashion catalog on her tablet. She looked completely different from the monster in the basement; she was the picture of high-society elegance, discussing the floral arrangements for the upcoming charity gala with her personal secretary.
"Andrés," Verónica said without looking up from her screen. "Has the chauffeur left for the airport yet? Mr. Ricardo’s private jet was scheduled to land at eight."
"Yes, madame," Andrés replied, bowing slightly. "Carlos left forty minutes ago. Master Ricardo should arrive within the hour."
Clara’s fingers tightened around the silver sugar tongs. Ricardo del Monte. The man who owned everything, yet knew nothing. She had seen him briefly during her interview—a tall, handsome man in his late thirties, with dark eyes that always seemed heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. He wasn't cruel like his wife; he was simply absent, his mind always focused on international logistics, shipping manifests, and board meetings. He loved his mother deeply—everyone in the province knew that Doña Leonor had been his guiding light after his father passed away. Verónica had exploited that love, using forged medical reports and letters from a fake clinic in Switzerland to keep Ricardo from ever questioning his mother's sudden disappearance from public life.
The heavy oak front doors of the mansion opened, and a moment later, Ricardo entered the foyer. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened, his expensive wool coat slung over his arm.
"Verónica," he said, walking into the dining room and kissing his wife's cheek with a practiced, distant affection. "The New York conference was a disaster, but the shipping contracts are secure."
"Welcome home, darling," Verónica smiled, her voice dripping with sweet, wifely devotion. "You look exhausted. I had the chef prepare your favorite truffle eggs. You work too hard."
Ricardo sat down at the table, rubbing his temples. Clara stepped forward, carefully pouring hot coffee into his porcelain cup. As she did, her hand trembled slightly, a few drops spilling onto the white linen tablecloth.
"Watch it, you clumsy idiot!" Verónica snapped, her voice instantly losing its sweetness, her eyes flashing with a lethal glare that warned Clara she hadn't forgotten the previous night.
"I'm sorry, madame, I'm so sorry," Clara whispered, quickly dabbing at the stain with a napkin.
"It's fine, it's just coffee," Ricardo muttered, waving his hand dismissively. He looked up at Clara, his dark eyes observing her nervous expression for a brief second before he looked back at his wife. "Verónica, did you get the weekly update from the Zurich clinic? I tried calling Dr. Keller yesterday, but his office said he was out of town for a conference."
Verónica didn't blink. Her smile remained perfectly intact as she reached across the table to touch his hand. "Of course, darling. I received the medical manifest yesterday afternoon. Doña Leonor is doing wonderfully. The doctors say her memory treatments are progressing, but she still has periods of severe confusion. They highly recommend we don't visit or call her this month. The stimulation causes her blood pressure to spike."
Ricardo let out a deep, heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. "I just miss her, Verónica. It’s been two years since she moved there. Sometimes I feel like I abandoned her in that mountainside facility just so I could focus on the company."
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"You did what was best for her health, Ricardo," Verónica said softly, her voice filled with a calculated sympathy that made Clara’s blood run cold as she stood in the shadows. "Her dementia was getting dangerous. Remember when she forgot to turn off the gas stove in the old house? You have to trust the professionals. She is safe, warm, and well taken care of."
Clara had to bite the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. Safe and warm. At that very moment, Doña Leonor was shivering on a dirty mattress forty feet beneath their feet, chained like a rabid dog while her son ate truffle eggs from silver plates.
