Chapter 7 - The Journey to the Mountain
By the end of the second week, a dramatic shift occurred in the physical condition of the triplets.
The dark circles under their eyes had faded. Diana was able to stand and walk across the room without assistance. Abigail’s appetite had returned with a vengeance, demanding handmade corn tortillas and sweet pumpkin stew. Most remarkably, Adriana’s latest blood panel—drawn by an independent medical team brought in by Leonardo—showed an unprecedented fifty percent reduction in abnormal leukemic blast cells.
The medical world was baffled, but Brenda knew that the final stage of their healing could not take place inside the walls of Valle de Bravo.
“The air here is stale with old memories,” Brenda told Leonardo as they stood in the courtyard under a sky full of bright mountain stars. “The mansion is where they got sick. If you want their blood to fully clean itself, you must take them to the sacred spring in the Sierra Norte of Oaxaca.”
Leonardo looked at her, astonished. “A journey? Brenda, they are still recovering! Flying them to a remote mountain village without intensive care backup is an insane risk!”
“Staying here is a risk,” Brenda countered, turning to look at the grand mansion behind them. “This house is built on money and sorrow. The mountain is built on life. Do you trust me, Leonardo?”
Leonardo stared into her dark, clear eyes. He thought of his sister Sofia, who had been served with federal conspiracy charges that morning and was currently under house arrest. He thought of his corporate empire, which felt lighter than a speck of dust compared to his daughters’ laughter.
“I trust you with my life,” Leonardo said honestly. “I trust you with theirs.”
Two days later, a private medical transport plane landed on a small air strip in the lush, emerald hills of Oaxaca. From there, a convoy of rugged four-wheel-drive vehicles navigated the winding, mist-shrouded dirt roads high into the Sierra Norte, far away from cellular towers, stock markets, and concrete empires.
They arrived at a small, pristine village cradled between two massive green peaks. The air was cool, sweet, and rich with the smell of wet earth, pine resin, and wild mountain orchids.
The girls gasped as they were lifted from the vehicles. For the first time in a year, they felt real dirt under their shoes, saw wild hummingbirds darting through flower gardens, and heard the roar of a pristine mountain river crashing over ancient rocks below.
“Daddy! Look!” Diana cheered, pointing at a rainbow forming in the mist of a nearby waterfall. “The air smells like candy!”
Leonardo walked beside them, wearing simple denim jeans and a flannel shirt, his designer suits left behind in Mexico City. He looked at his daughters, who were running—actually running—toward a group of local village children who welcomed them with wide, warm smiles.
Brenda stood beside him, watching the scene with deep, quiet satisfaction.
“This is where I was born,” Brenda whispered, looking up at the towering green peaks above them. “This is where my people have healed for a thousand years.”
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Leonardo looked down at her, feeling a strange, powerful warmth blooming in his chest—a feeling he thought had died twenty years ago when he buried his wife.
“It’s beautiful, Brenda,” Leonardo said softly. “It’s the first place I’ve felt alive in twenty years.”
