Rosita looked at Mauricio, who continued playing a sorrowful melody, unaware of the web of lies surrounding his life. She knew that speaking the truth could cost her her job and perhaps even place her in danger, but her Christian conscience would not allow her to remain silent in the face of such injustice. God had placed her in that house for a reason. Clenching her fists, she inhaled deeply to steady her courage and walked firmly toward the piano, stopping just a few steps away and abruptly interrupting the music.
Mauricio slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes tired like those of a man carrying a burden too heavy to bear. He faced the woman’s distressed expression—her face pale, her eyes filled with tears and fear.
“Mr. Mauricio, please forgive my boldness and my lack of control,” Rosita began, her voice breaking with a sob she could no longer hold back. “But there is something my faith will not allow me to keep silent about any longer, or my soul will be condemned forever.”
Mauricio rose to his feet, frowning as the tension in the room thickened.
—Your mother… Mrs. Mariela. She is not resting in peace as everyone in this house believes. Sir, your mother is alive! I saw her with my own eyes, I combed her hair, and I heard her pray for you every night in the asylum where I worked.
A suffocating silence filled the room. Mauricio felt as if something had struck him hard in the stomach. The world around him seemed to freeze as confusion, disbelief, and a chilling fear tightened around him while the maid’s words echoed relentlessly in his mind, threatening to shatter the reality he had lived in for years.
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