Ricardo’s suit looked too sharp for the sunlight and roses. The boy walked over, already uneasy.
“I invited some people,” Ricardo said. “This house needs a woman again—someone to keep things running and help raise you. You’ll meet them today, and you’ll choose who you want as your mother.”
Gabriel froze. The stone in his hand dropped into the grass.
“I don’t need another mom,” he murmured. “I already had one.”
Ricardo exhaled, impatient. “Your mother is gone. Life goes on. You need someone here.”
Before Gabriel could respond, cars rolled into the circular driveway. Five women stepped out, elegant and confident, dressed as if they were attending an awards show. Ricardo greeted them like VIP clients: Vivian Hart, Charlotte Devereux, Bianca Rossi, Seraphina King, and Nadia Volkov. They smiled at Ricardo, then glanced at Gabriel with polite curiosity, as if he were a question on a form.
Gabriel’s stomach tightened. He didn’t want to be evaluated. While his father led the women inside, he slipped away along the hedge line and ran to the far end of the garden. He pushed through a gap in the shrubs and ducked under a small wooden footbridge—his hiding place, where the stream muffled the world.
Elena Morales saw him from the kitchen window. Elena was the cleaner, recently hired, but she was the one who quietly brought Gabriel warm milk when he couldn’t sleep, the one who listened when he talked about Mariana without cutting him off.
