The front door opened before Esteban rang the bell. An older woman, with a serious expression and impeccable posture, was waiting for them. “Welcome, Miss Torres. I’m Rosalinda Méndez, the housekeeper.”
She made an elegant gesture. This way, please. Mr. Manceli is waiting for you upstairs. Mariana felt her legs tremble slightly. Despite the luxury of the place, there was no peace.
There was tension in the air, something you couldn’t see, but you could definitely feel it. Doña Rosalinda opened the door to the nursery. And there he was, Alessandro Manceli, without his jacket, his sleeves rolled up, and with deep dark circles under his eyes, carrying Alessio, who was crying again, exhausted, frustrated, hungry.
Alessandro turned, and the dark gaze he fixed on Mariana pierced her like lightning. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t have much of a choice,” she replied sincerely. He didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened.
“My son hasn’t eaten since the plane,” Alessandro confessed. “Nothing is working for him. He’s rejecting everything again.” Mariana approached without hesitation. Instinct, once again, was stronger than any doubt.
She gently picked up the baby. Alexio stopped crying for a few seconds as if he recognized her. “He’s getting dehydrated,” Mariana said, alarmed. “A pediatrician examined him. Three.” Alessandro clenched his jaw. “They all say the same thing: he needs a feeding tube if he continues to refuse the bottle.”
Mariana picked up the baby, moving him gently. “Do you want me to swallow? Do you want me to try feeding him again?” The silence between them grew thick. Doña Rosalinda lowered her gaze respectfully, and Alessandro answered with brutal honesty.
Yes. And I need it now. Mariana nodded, taking a deep breath. She knew that crossing that line again would change everything, but the baby couldn’t wait. I need privacy. Alessandro didn’t argue. He pointed to a side door.
You can use that room. If you need anything, I’ll be outside. Mariana came in with the baby. Her hands were trembling, but when Aleio found her breast and began to feed, a deep peace filled the room.
She wept silently for Alesio, for Emma, for everything she had lost and for what she was unwittingly finding. Outside, Alesandro waited, frowning, his hands clasped tightly together, as if he were holding a bomb.
Renzo Belini, his right-hand man, came running. “Boss, we have a problem.” “What now?” Renzo lowered his voice. “Three families found out that he got a woman who’s supporting the Manceli heir.”
Alessandro’s gaze turned to pure ice. How did they find out? The information traveled fast, and they were already asking if he had claimed her. Alessandro closed his eyes, understanding the weight of what that meant.
In their world, a woman breastfeeding the child of a gift acquired a sacred role, one that couldn’t be easily broken. Renzo continued. If you don’t protect her, if you don’t acknowledge her, they’ll assume she’s a weakness, a threat, a target.
Alessandro gritted his teeth. No one will touch Mariana. No one. Renzo bowed his head. Then he’ll have to make that clear. Just then, the door opened. Mariana came out with Alessio asleep in her arms, and Alessandro felt something inside him shift at the sight of her, as if this woman who had come into his life by accident was now someone impossible to let go of.
“He’s better,” Mariana said gently. “He ate quite a lot. He’s going to sleep for a while.” Alessandro took a step toward her. “Mariana, you don’t have to thank me for what you did for my son,” she interrupted, though her voice trembled slightly.
I don’t want to complicate things, I’m just helping a baby. Renzo looked at the man urgently. Alessandro took a deep breath and said something that would change the course of history. Mariana, aren’t you just someone who helped my son?
In my world, what you did means something. I’ll explain it to you, but first I need to ask you something. Mariana looked up uncertainly. What is it? Alessandro’s dark eyes carried an ancient weight.
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