Chapter 2 - The Stained MasterpieceThe threat hung in the heavy, sterile air of the kitchen like a physical weight. Rebeca Rivas, Alejandro’s imperious older sister and the de facto warden of his massive estate, didn't blink. Her manicured fingernail tapped rhythmically against the marble countertop.
"You heard me, Mariana," Rebeca hissed, her voice cutting through the silence. "My brother does not run a charity ward. He certainly does not house the unwashed spawn of incompetent domestics to ruin multi-million-dollar art installations."
Mariana’s breath hitched. She glanced down at little Valentina, whose lower lip began to tremble. The bright blue watercolor paint smeared across the plush bunny's ear had come from a cheap palette Mariana had bought at a corner store—the only distraction she could afford to keep her toddler quiet while she scrubbed the baseboards of the east wing.
How had Valentina gotten into the gallery corridor?
The service door. Mariana’s blood ran cold. One of the junior housekeepers must have left it unlatched during the morning delivery.
"I am so sorry, Doña Rebeca," Mariana choked out, stepping completely in front of Valentina to shield her from Rebeca’s glacial stare. She dropped to her knees, heedless of the pristine white marble floor. "It was an accident. I will clean it. I’ll pay for it—take it out of my wages, please, take all of it—"
"Take it out of your wages?" Rebeca let out a short, barking laugh that held no humor whatsoever. "You couldn't afford a single square inch of that canvas if you worked here for three lifetimes, housekeeper. That was an original mid-century abstract. Valued at four hundred thousand dollars."
Gasps echoed softly among the kitchen staff.
"And your precious little brat didn't just paint the canvas," Rebeca continued, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing into venomous slits. "She dragged a muddy shoe across the silk rug beneath it. Alejandro is due back from his board meeting in twenty minutes. If he sees that... well, let's just say you won't need to worry about packing your bags. Security will simply throw you both into the street."
Before Mariana could form a desperate reply, a sharp, electronic chime rang through the service intercom.
“Mr. Rivas has cleared the front gates. Main entrance arrival in two minutes.”
Panic exploded in Mariana’s chest. Two minutes. Two minutes to erase a four-hundred-thousand-dollar disaster, save her job, and keep her child from homelessness.
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"Get a bucket. Get the specialized solvent from the utility closet—now!" Mariana whispered fiercely to a sympathetic sous-chef, before snatching Valentina into her arms. "Stay here, baby. Mommy has to fix this."
She bolted down the hallway toward the private art gallery, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
