Chapter 4 - The Descent from Above
Before Marisol could choke out another plea, heavy, measured footsteps sounded from the upper landing.
Slow. Deliberate. Authoritative.
Diego Villaseñor was coming down the stairs.
He had spent the early morning reviewing international shipping contracts in his private study, but the sharp, venomous tone of Paulina’s voice had sliced through the heavy oak doors, drawing him out.
Paulina immediately straightened her posture, tossing her head back and smoothing down her silk robe. A confident, victorious smirk touched her lips as she prepared to assert her dominance over the household in front of her future husband.
“Diego, darling, I’m glad you’re here,” Paulina said, turning toward the stairs with practiced sweetness. “I was just establishing some necessary boundaries in your house. These servants have grown entirely too comfortable.”
Diego did not answer her.
His piercing gaze bypassed Paulina completely. He walked down the final step of the grand staircase, his eyes locked onto the small, trembling figure of Marisol holding the quiet little girl in her arms. Then, his gaze dropped to the floor where the golden button lay shining against the dark marble.
Without a word, Diego walked past Paulina as if she were made of transparent glass. He knelt down slowly on one knee, right there in the middle of the grand foyer.
He reached out, picked up the shiny golden button, and held it out on his open palm toward Valentina.
“I believe this belongs to you,” Diego said, his voice dropping into a register so gentle, so entirely uncharacteristic of the ruthless tycoon, that Paulina’s jaw dropped in absolute disbelief.
Valentina slowly lifted her head from her mother’s apron. She looked up into Diego’s face, her large, dark eyes studying his features for a long, breathless moment. Then, with trembling fingers, she reached out and took the button from his palm.
“Pretty,” she repeated softly, her voice filled with a quiet wonder.
Diego swallowed hard. A strange, inexplicable tightness gripped his throat. He stood up slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the child for a second longer before turning to face Paulina.
The temperature in the foyer instantly plummeted.
“Diego?” Paulina stammered, her voice losing its edge of absolute control. “What are you doing? Tell them to get out.”
Diego’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Marisol and Valentina are not leaving.”
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Paulina went as pale as her silk robe. “What did you just say?”
“I said they are not leaving,” Diego repeated, every word falling like an iron block. “Not today. Not tomorrow. And certainly not because you ordered it.”
