Chapter 6 - The Whispering Gala
Two days later, Teresa was moved into a sunlit private recovery suite on the hospital’s penthouse floor. Her color had returned, her appetite was back, and she spent her mornings laughing at the soap operas on the wall-mounted television.
"He hasn't changed a bit," Teresa said, smiling weakly as Lucía peeled an orange by the bedside. "Even at fourteen, Mateo had those stubborn eyes. He looked at you like you were the only star in the sky."
"Ma, stop," Lucía blushed, looking down at the citrus peel. "He’s a respected physician. I’m just managing the stall. Don Rafael was forced to back off, but people at the docks are already whispering that I’m the doctor's charity case."
"Let them whisper," Teresa said, squeezing Lucía’s wrist. "A real man doesn't care about the mud on your shoes, child. He cares about the heart inside your chest."
Before Lucía could reply, the door clicked open.
Renata Alcázar stood in the doorway, dressed in a stunning emerald-green cocktail gown. Her hair was styled in an elaborate updo, diamond earrings sparkling under the fluorescent lights. Behind her, the sounds of classical violin music drifted up from the hospital’s grand atrium—the Annual Benefactors’ Gala was in full swing downstairs.
"What do you want?" Lucía asked, standing up immediately and placing herself in front of her mother.
Renata didn't enter the room. She stood on the threshold, her gaze dripping with condescending pity.
"I came to give you a reality check, Miss Morales," Renata purred, tapping her manicured nails against a silver clutch. "Tonight, my father is formally presenting Mateo to the Gulf Medical Syndicate as the next Director of Surgery. The mayor is downstairs. The state health secretary is downstairs. Every influential family in Veracruz is watching."
"If Mateo is busy, then go join him," Lucía retorted. "You have no business here."
"Oh, but I do," Renata smiled, stepping closer and lowering her voice. "Do you really think Mateo sees you as an equal? You are a walking guilt trip from his pathetic, impoverished childhood. A stray puppy he feels obligated to feed. But look at him down there—in a bespoke tuxedo, surrounded by governors and philanthropists. If you attach yourself to him with your fish scales and your unpaid debts, you will drag him straight into the gutter."
Lucía flinched. The words struck the exact insecurity that had been gnawing at her heart since the moment she saw Mateo in his white coat.
"Look out that window," Renata pointed toward the glass wall overlooking the illuminated garden courtyard below.
Lucía turned. Three stories down, in the center of the glittering marquee, stood Mateo. He was wearing an impeccably tailored black tuxedo, holding a glass of sparkling water, surrounded by men in dark suits and women in evening gowns. He looked noble, brilliant, and completely out of reach.
"He belongs in that world," Renata whispered poisonously into Lucía’s ear. "With me. With resources that can build hospitals, fund research institutes, and elevate his name across the country. What can you offer him, Lucía? A bucket of crabs and a lease on a wooden shack?"
Renata slipped a thick white envelope out of her clutch and tossed it onto the bedside table.
"There is fifty thousand dollars in that envelope," Renata said. "Take your mother to a private clinic in Merida or Cancun. Start fresh. Disappear from this city tonight. If you truly care about Mateo, you won't let your poverty be the scandal that destroys his future."
May you like
Renata turned and walked away, her emerald train sweeping across the floor, leaving Lucía standing in the silence of the hospital room, her chest aching with an unbearable, suffocating weight.
***
