“And the father?”
“Mr. Augusto—always traveling,” Célia sighed. “Listen, dear, this job isn’t going to be easy.”
But Paloma didn’t hesitate.
She ran upstairs, following the sound of sobs.
In the hallway, a blonde woman, impeccably groomed and elegantly dressed, came out of a room and slammed the door.
“You must be the new maid,” Verónica said, smoothing her hair with a forced smile.
“Perfect. I have to go. The girl is making a scene. Fine, she’s just exaggerating as usual.”
Without waiting for a reply, Verónica grabbed her purse and left the house, leaving behind a trail of expensive perfume and an awkward silence.
