—It’s Matthew… I’ve been carrying him all day because Jimena says it’s my responsibility to keep him from crying… but he’s very heavy… and I can’t anymore, Dad.
Those last words were not a simple childish lament, but the exact sound of a string stretched taut for too long, about to break forever.
Steven looked at his watch.
Six fifteen in the afternoon.
I had left home at eight in the morning.
Ten hours.
Ten hours in which her nine-year-old daughter had been carrying a one-and-a-half-year-old baby while trying to clean, obey, and not make noise.
He felt disbelief at first, then such brutal rage that it rose from his chest to his throat like liquid fire.
“Where is Jimena?” he asked in a low voice, because when real anger enters a dangerous man, his voice doesn’t rise; it becomes colder.
—She’s in her room watching TV —Caroline replied tearfully—. She told me not to bother her because she has migraines.
Steven gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
He remembered all the times Jimena had said she was tired, sensitive, stressed, exhausted by the baby, and how he, out of guilt, haste or naiveté, had accepted it.
“Have you eaten anything today?” he asked, already feeling that the answer was going to devastate him even more.
—Only the breakfast you made me… Jimena said she couldn’t eat until she finished the dishes, the cooking, and taking care of Matthew without putting him down.
There was a short silence.
Too short for the world.
Too long for a father who had just discovered that the luxury of his house hid something dirtier than any windowless basement.
“Caroline, listen to me carefully,” Steven said, walking toward the boardroom door as the executives exchanged puzzled glances. “Hang on for another fifteen minutes. I’m coming.”
—But you said you had meetings until eight today…
—The meetings can wait. You can’t.
He hung up without adding anything else because he knew that if he continued speaking, his voice would reveal the magnitude of the terror that was already tearing him apart inside.
He turned towards the table.
The Vice President of Finance was still standing next to the screen, holding the laser pointer and holding an open slide about an international acquisition.
Steven didn’t even look at the projection.
—Gentlemen, the meeting is over. I have a family emergency. Please reschedule everything.
