You don’t owe me anything. I was just helping out in my own way. Alessandro said, getting close enough for her to feel the weight of his words. Everything has a price, and what you did for my son isn’t something I’m going to forget.
Mariana felt a chill, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else. Before continuing with the story, write in the comments what you would have done in Mariana’s place.
Helping a stranger’s baby, even if it meant entering a dangerous world. When Mariana returned to her seat, she could still feel the baby’s warm weight on her chest, even though it was no longer there.
The experience had been so intimate, so unexpected, that it felt like a dream, one she wasn’t sure she’d wanted. She didn’t notice that several rows away, Alessandro’s bodyguards were already discreetly investigating her name, address, work history, and every available detail about her life.
She didn’t notice the way Alessandro was watching her from first class while holding his sleeping son, as if that woman he barely knew had suddenly become something impossible to ignore.
For him, things had already changed. When the plane landed in Seattle hours later, Mariana hurried off. She didn’t want to run into Alessandro again. She wasn’t looking for thanks, explanations, or any connection.
She had done what her heart and body dictated, nothing more. But fate seemed to have other plans. As soon as she stepped into the passenger pick-up area, a huge man, dressed in a black suit with an icy expression, approached her.
“Miss Torres,” he said respectfully but firmly, “this vehicle is for you.” Mariana took a half step back. “I didn’t request a ride.” The man opened the door of a black Audi with tinted windows.
Mr. Manceli wishes to speak with you. Mariana felt a lurch in her stomach. It’s not necessary. I only did… It is necessary. He interrupted gently, but without allowing any discussion.
Please get in. People around started staring. Mariana sighed. There was no point in arguing with trained bodyguards. She took a deep breath and got into the SUV. The interior smelled of new leather and something else: power, security, control.
Behind her, the doors locked automatically. “Great,” she muttered. “Maybe I should have stayed on the plane.” The vehicle moved forward. Outside, the city faded as they drove away from the airport.
Inside, the silence was almost intimidating. “Where are we going?” asked the driver. The Colombian guard, named Esteban Castaño, answered without looking at her, “To Villa Mancel.” Mariana’s heart leaped.
The house of the Lord. Yes. A second pause. The baby needs her. The baby. That thought was enough to make Mariana stop protesting. The road to Villa Manceli became more solitary as they traveled.
First highways, then sprawling residential neighborhoods, until finally they entered a street lined with enormous mansions behind gates and endless gardens. But Villa Mancelli wasn’t like the others; it was more imposing, quieter, more protected.
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