Chapter 3 - The Service Kitchen
He did not remember walking there.
Only moving.
Through the glowing hallway.
Past guests who did not recognize him.
Past servants carrying silver trays while his family celebrated with the money he had sent to protect the woman they were hiding.
The outdoor service kitchen was hot, smoky, and cramped.
Steam clung to the walls.
The stone floor was wet.
Stacks of greasy pots filled the stainless counters.
And there, beside the open flame, stood Camila.
Not in silk.
Not in jewelry.
Not dressed as the lady of the house.
She wore a dirty white apron over a simple dress. Her blonde hair was twisted messily into a bun. Soap covered her red hands. Tears streaked through the sweat on her face as she scrubbed a heavy pot that looked too large for her wrists.
For a moment, Ricardo could not breathe.
The diamond necklace in his hand suddenly felt obscene.
Camila looked up.
The pot slipped in her hands, and soapy water splashed across the floor.
“Ricardo?”
Her voice cracked on his name.
Patrícia stepped in from the party hallway behind her, face tightening with alarm.
“Ricardo,” she said sharply, “don’t make a scene.”
He did not look at his sister yet.
He looked only at his wife.
The woman he had promised to honor.
The woman his family had turned into a servant in the house he built for her.
He opened the red jewelry box slowly.
The diamond caught the firelight.
Camila flinched as if beauty itself hurt.
May you like
That was when Ricardo finally turned.
“Why is my wife washing your dishes?”
