Alejandro had it all. At thirty-two, he had not only built a real estate empire from scratch, but he also believed he had found the love of his life: Valeria. She was the picture of perfection: elegant, cultured, and with a smile that lit up any room. To the city’s high society, they were the golden couple. But in the marble and glass mansion where they lived, there was a third person who occupied a quiet and discreet place: Clara, Alejandro’s mother.
Clara was a woman with calloused hands and a face etched with the wrinkles of years of sacrifice. She had washed other people’s clothes and cleaned floors for decades so that her son could study and become the man he was today. Now, in the twilight of her life, Alejandro insisted that she live with them like a queen.
“Mother, you don’t have to lift a finger,” Alejandro would always repeat whenever he saw her trying to clear the table. “That’s what we have staff for. You just rest.”
Valeria, in Alejandro’s presence, was all sweetness and light with the old woman. “Leave her alone, my love, I’ll serve her tea. Clara is like a mother to me too,” Valeria said, placing a kiss on the old woman’s forehead while Alejandro looked on adoringly.
But Clara knew the truth. A mother’s eyes don’t deceive, much less those of a woman who has seen life’s hardships. Clara noticed how Valeria’s smile faded the moment Alejandro walked out the door. She noticed the impatient sighs, the disdainful glances when she walked slowly down the hallways, and how Valeria avoided touching anything Clara had touched. Yet Clara remained silent. She remained silent out of love. She didn’t want to be the mother-in-law who sowed discord, she didn’t want to extinguish that light of happiness she saw in her son’s eyes. “As long as he’s happy, I’ll endure it,” she told herself every night in her room.
One Tuesday morning, the atmosphere in the house was frenetic. Alejandro had a crucial business trip to New York; a merger that would take his company to the next level. As the driver loaded the suitcases into the car, Alejandro said his goodbyes in the foyer.
“I’ll be back in three days,” he said, adjusting his tie. “Valeria, darling, please make sure my mother takes her medication on time. The doctor said her blood pressure has been a little unstable.”
“Of course, my love,” Valeria replied, gently straightening his shirt collar. “Don’t worry about a thing. Your mother will be in the best hands. Go and conquer the world.”
Alejandro hugged his mother tightly. “I love you, Mom. Take good care of yourself. I’ll bring you that silk scarf you liked from the magazine.” “Go with God, son. May the Virgin Mary be with you,” Clara whispered, giving him her blessing.
Alejandro got into the black car and it drove off down the long driveway. Valeria stood at the door, waving until the car disappeared behind the iron gates.
At that precise moment, the transformation was chilling. Valeria’s sweet smile turned into a grimace of disgust. She spun around and looked at Clara, who was still standing in the hall, with a blood-curdling coldness.
“Well, she finally left,” Valeria said, in a tone Clara had never heard so harsh. “Listen to me carefully, you useless old woman. For the next three days, you’re not going to be in the way in my living room or dirtying my carpets.”
—Valeria, daughter… —Clara began, surprised by the sudden change.
“Don’t call me daughter!” Valeria shouted, approaching menacingly. “I’m not your daughter, and I never will be. I only put up with you because Alejandro has this stupid obsession with being a ‘good son.’ But he’s not here now. So you’re going to your room, and you’re not coming out unless I tell you to. And no asking the maids for anything; I’ve given them the day off. If you want water, go to the kitchen and get it for yourself.”
Clara lowered her head, feeling a lump in her throat. She didn’t want to fight. She walked slowly toward her room, leaning against the walls, while Valeria’s mocking laughter echoed behind her.
The morning dragged on, painfully. Around noon, hunger began to gnaw at Clara’s stomach. She knew Valeria was on the terrace talking on the phone with her friends, laughing and drinking champagne. Carefully, Clara left her room and went to the kitchen. She just wanted some bread and a glass of milk.
As she entered the kitchen, her trembling hands accidentally dropped a glass as she reached for it. The crash was loud. The glass shattered against the imported porcelain floor.
Seconds later, Valeria burst into the kitchen. Her eyes blazed with pure fury.
“What have you done?!” she shrieked, seeing the broken glass on the floor. “You’re clumsy! That set of glasses cost more than you’ve earned in your entire miserable life!”
“Forgive me, it slipped, I’ll clean it up…” Clara stammered, bending down with difficulty to pick up the pieces.
“Stop it!” Valeria kicked Clara’s hand away. “You’re just in the way! I’m fed up with you, fed up with your old smell, fed up with pretending to care!”
Valeria grabbed the old woman’s arm tightly, digging her long, perfectly manicured nails into her fragile skin. She lifted her roughly. Clara groaned in pain.
“I’m going to teach you to respect my house!” Valeria shouted, blind with rage, raising her open hand to slap the woman who gave life to the man she supposedly loved.
Meanwhile, just a few kilometers away, fate was playing its hand. Alejandro, who was almost at the airport, searched his briefcase for the merger contract to check it one last time. His blood ran cold. It wasn’t there. He had left it on his desk in his haste to leave.
“Turn around,” she ordered the driver, her heart racing with stress. “Quickly! I have to get home.”
The car made a sharp turn and accelerated back toward the mansion. Alejandro dialed Valeria’s number to let her know he was returning, but she didn’t answer. “She must be in the garden,” he thought.
The car stopped in front of the entrance. Alejandro jumped out, telling the driver to wait with the engine running. He unlocked the front door with his key, expecting the usual afternoon silence. But what he heard stopped him in his tracks.
They were shouts. They were coming from the kitchen.
Alejandro frowned. He walked quickly, his steps firm but silent across the Persian rugs. As he drew nearer, the voices grew clearer. He heard the sound of something breaking, and then his fiancée’s voice, but not with the sweet tone he knew; instead, it held an unrecognizable venom.
And then, she heard her mother’s voice. A broken plea, full of fear and pain.
———————————————————————————–
“No! Please, Valeria! Don’t hit me anymore!” Clara’s scream tore through the air and pierced Alejandro’s heart like an ice spear.
Alejandro pushed open the kitchen door with such force that it slammed against the wall with a sharp crash. The scene he encountered would be forever etched in his memory.
His mother, the woman who had gone without food to feed him, was cornered against the counter, shielding her face with her arms, trembling like a leaf. And Valeria… his fiancée, his “angel,” stood before her, her hand raised, her face contorted with anger and her eyes bloodshot with hatred.
Time seemed to stand still. The air in the kitchen became heavy, suffocating.
Valeria froze, her hand still raised. When she turned her head and saw Alejandro standing in the doorway, the color drained from her face in an instant. Her expression shifted from demonic fury to utter terror in a fraction of a second. She lowered her hand slowly, trembling.
“Alejandro…” Valeria stammered, her voice high and nervous. “My love… what a surprise! No… it’s not what it looks like. She… she went hysterical, I was just trying to calm her down… She attacked me, Alejandro! Your mother went crazy!”
Alejandro said nothing. His silence was more terrifying than any scream. He walked slowly toward them. His footsteps echoed like death sentences in the silence of the kitchen. He didn’t look at Valeria. He went straight to his mother.
With infinite tenderness, she took Clara’s hands and examined her arms. There they were. The red marks of Valeria’s fingers, and a bleeding scratch where her nails had pierced the old woman’s paper-thin skin.
“Did he hurt you, Mom?” Alejandro asked, his voice so low and controlled it was frightening.
Clara sobbed, clutching her son’s jacket. “No, son, it’s nothing… let’s go, please… don’t fight with her because of me.”
Alejandro kissed his mother’s forehead and stood up to his full height. Slowly, he turned to Valeria. His gaze, usually warm and full of love, was now two dark wells of disappointment and suppressed fury.
“Alejandro, please, you have to believe me,” Valeria said, trying to get closer, placing a hand on his chest, attempting to use her usual charm. “She broke the glass… she insulted me. You know she’s old now, that she’s delusional…”
Alejandro pushed her hand away abruptly, as if the contact burned him.
“Not another word,” he said. His voice didn’t tremble; it was pure steel. “For two years I thought you were the most wonderful woman in the world. I thought you loved my mother as much as you said. But it was all an act. A damned charade to trap the millionaire, wasn’t it?”
“No! I love you!” Valeria shouted, crying tears that now seemed fake in his eyes.
“You love no one but yourself and my money,” Alejandro said, pointing to the door. “You have ten minutes.”
“What?” Valeria blinked, confused.
—Ten minutes to go up to that room, pack your things in a suitcase, and get out of my house. And if you dare take anything I’ve bought, I’ll call the police and report you for theft and assaulting an elderly person.
“You can’t do this to me!” she shrieked, losing her composure. “We’re the couple of the year! The wedding is in a month! What will the press say!”
Alejandro let out a dry, humorless laugh. “The wedding’s off. And the press… oh, believe me, the press will know exactly why. They’ll know that the charming Valeria is nothing more than a cowardly abuser who beats old women when she thinks no one’s watching.”
Valeria looked at Alejandro and understood that she had lost. There was no room for negotiation. His gaze was an impenetrable wall. She tried to look at Clara, seeking pity, but the old woman was clinging to her son, finally safe.
Valeria ran out of the kitchen, sobbing with rage, not regret. Ten minutes later, the sound of a suitcase being hurriedly rolled down the hall and the final slam of the door was heard. Silence returned to the mansion, but this time it was a clean silence, free of lies.
Alejandro sat down in a kitchen chair and sat his mother on his lap, just like when he was a child, but in reverse. He took a damp cloth and carefully began to clean the scratch on her arm.
“Forgive me, Mom,” Alejandro said, his voice breaking. A single tear rolled down his cheek. “Forgive me for being so blind. I promise you that never, ever again will anyone raise a hand or a voice to you.”
Clara stroked her son’s face, drying the tear with her calloused fingers. “Don’t cry, my child. God works in mysterious ways. If you hadn’t forgotten those papers, perhaps we would never have known the truth. The important thing is that you’re here.”
That night, Alejandro didn’t travel to New York. He sent his vice president. He stayed home, cooking a simple soup for his mother. They ate together in the kitchen, laughing and reminiscing about old times, far from the cold luxury of formal dining rooms. Alejandro lost a fiancée that day, yes, and perhaps he lost some money because of the canceled trip. But as he watched his mother smile peacefully, he knew he had saved the only thing that truly had immeasurable value: the woman who gave him life and who loved him unconditionally.
Because fortunes come and go, and beautiful faces age, but a mother’s love is the only treasure that lasts forever. And woe to him who dares to scorn it, because life, sooner or later, exacts its price.
