Chapter 3 - The Golden Button
That Tuesday morning, despite all of Marisol’s desperate precautions, everything went catastrophically wrong.
Valentina had woken up before the sun. While her mother was busy stoking the kitchen stove, the little girl had wandered quietly down the main hallway in her tiny, worn-out socks patterned with little yellow ducks. Near the base of the sweeping marble staircase, something caught her eye—a small, glittering object resting against the dark stone.
It was a golden button, round, heavy, and polished to a mirror shine, having accidentally fallen from the cuff of one of Diego’s custom wool jackets.
To a three-year-old child, it was an absolute treasure, a piece of genuine pirate gold. Valentina knelt down, picked it up with infinite care, and smiled widely, her dark eyes sparkling with innocent delight.
At that exact moment, heavy footsteps echoed from above. Paulina appeared, gliding down the grand staircase in a fluid motion, draped in an expensive silk ivory bathrobe, holding a steaming cup of artisan coffee in one hand and swiping through corporate emails on her phone with the other.
Valentina, proud of her discovery and wanting to share her joy with the world, stepped forward and held out her tiny palm, displaying the shiny golden button.
“Pretty,” the little girl whispered, her voice innocent and sweet.
Paulina stopped dead in her tracks. She looked down, expecting a piece of trash, only to find a ragged little girl blocking her path. Her face instantly hardened into stone.
“What is this? Where is your mother? Who let you out of the kitchen?” Paulina snapped, her voice sharp enough to draw blood.
Valentina instinctively lowered her hand, her smile vanishing as fear gripped her chest.
At that second, Marisol came running breathlessly from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ma’am Paulina, I am so, so sorry! I only looked away for a split second, she—'”
“No,” Paulina interrupted, holding up a hand to silence her and placing her coffee cup down sharply on a side table with a loud clatter. “I am entirely done with this. That girl does not belong in this house. And neither do you.”
Marisol rushed forward, scooping Valentina into her arms and holding her tight against her chest. “Please, ma’am, don’t speak to her like that. She’s just a child, she didn’t mean to—'”
“She’s a persistent problem,” Paulina hissed, her nostrils flaring. “Pack your bags right now. I want you both off my property before nightfall. If you aren't gone by six, I’ll have security throw your things into the street.”
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In the shock of the moment, Valentina’s tiny hand relaxed. The golden button slipped from her fingers, hitting the hard marble floor with a sharp ring and rolling away into the shadows.
Valentina did not cry. She simply buried her face deep into her mother’s damp apron, hiding from a world that had no place for her.
