Silence, he had learned, could hide anything—pain, lies, decay. It had settled into his mansion after his wife’s death like a permanent guest, spreading from room to room until even the walls seemed to whisper less. The clocks still ticked, the staff still moved, the children still breathed… but life, real life, had withdrawn quietly, leaving behind something polished and hollow.

He looked at the children.

And he put a hand to his chest as if he had just confirmed his worst suspicion.

“Look at the state of the house! Look at the state of it!” he exclaimed. “I warned you that girl couldn’t be trusted!”

Nico ran straight towards Elena and hugged her leg.

Santi did the same.

They didn’t look for Gertrudis.

Not to Robert.

They looked for the nanny.

That detail struck Roberto with unexpected force.

Gertrudis saw it too.

And for a second, something dark passed through his eyes.

“Stay away from her, my children,” the woman ordered, advancing. “She won’t hurt you anymore.”

Elena took a step back.

Not out of guilt.

Out of fear.