Chapter 7 - Ashes of the Empire

By 2:00 AM, the rented hacienda was entirely empty of guests. The expensive floral arrangements wilted in the night air, the leftover food sat untouched on the long tables, and the expensive champagne was left warm in crystal flutes.
Doña Patricia was forced to pack her designer luggage into the trunk of her aging sedan, her aristocratic pride utterly shattered as she realized she was now effectively homeless, her son's reckless financial gambling having wiped out the family's liquid reserves.
Andrés sat alone on the front steps of the hacienda, his head buried in his hands, staring blankly at the dirt. He had lost everything: his status, his money, his business, his wife, and his children.
As I walked back to my SUV, I looked in through the rear window. Sofía and Valentina were still sleeping peacefully, curled up together across the plush leather seat, safe from the toxic storms of a family that could never measure their true worth.
I slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and adjusted the rearview mirror.
“Mom?”
I glanced back. Sofía was blinking sleepily, rubbing her eyes.
“Are we going home?” she asked softly.
May you like
I smiled, shifting the gear into drive, and pressed my foot gently on the accelerator, leaving the bright lights of the hacienda behind us in the dark.
“Yes, my love,” I said, my voice steady, bright, and completely free. “We're going home.”