Leonardo Madrigal stood outside the bedroom with effortless composure, a silver lighter rolled lazily between his fingers.
Click.
The tiny flame flickered to life before disappearing just as quickly.
Click.
The repetitive sound echoed softly through the corridor.
“Finished packing?” His deep voice carried neither warmth nor impatience.
Jasmine lowered her eyes. “Yes.”
The response was little more than a murmur.
Behind her, Maria stepped out of the bedroom wearing a smile that looked carefully rehearsed.
“Mr. Madrigal,” she said pleasantly, “Before you leave, why don’t you come downstairs? I’ve had fresh fruit prepared.”
Leonardo slipped the lighter back into his pocket. “No need.” The refusal was immediate.
Maria’s smile froze for a fraction of a second before she forced herself to recover.
“I thought perhaps...”
“I said no.” There was no irritation or anger in his tone.
Yet somehow the calmness made the rejection even more absolute.
Silence settled over the corridor.
Leonardo’s attention shifted toward the suitcase.
“Is that everything?”
Jasmine blinked. “Yeah.”
His gaze lingered on the solitary piece of luggage. “That’s all you’re taking?”
She nodded. “I don’t own much in this house.”
Those words slipped from her mouth so naturally that she didn’t even realize how pitiful they sounded until the silence that followed stretched longer than expected.
Leonardo stared at the suitcase for another moment before bending down.
Without asking permission, he picked it up effortlessly with one hand. Then he extended his free hand toward her.
Jasmine hesitated.
Maria’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
After several seconds, Jasmine slowly placed her hand into his.
His fingers closed firmly around hers.
Before anyone spoke again, Leonardo turned and looked into the bedroom.
His sharp eyes swept slowly across every corner. The room looked old and dusty.
The bed was barely wider than a child’s.
An old wardrobe leaned slightly because one leg had been repaired with folded cardboard.
The desk was crowded with books, medicine bottles, tangled chargers, and neatly stacked storage boxes because there simply wasn’t enough room for shelves.
Several cardboard cartons had been pushed beneath the bed. Every empty space had been occupied by years of accumulated belongings.
The room resembled a cramped attic more than the bedroom of the eldest daughter of a wealthy household.
Leonardo remained silent for a long while.
Finally, he spoke. “So...” His eyes never left the room. “This is where Maliyah lived.”
Maria’s heartbeat skipped. “Mr. Madrigal...”
He ignored her. His gaze lingered on the faded curtains. “I’ve seen servants’ quarters with more space.”
Maria swallowed. “The rooms were assigned years ago...”
“So I can see.” He stepped farther inside.
His polished shoes contrasted sharply with the worn wooden floorboards.
“The wardrobe is falling apart.”
His eyes shifted toward the ceiling. “The paint hasn’t been redone in years. Half the furniture should have been replaced a decade ago.”
His gaze finally settled on Maria. “And yet this family presents itself as one of the city’s most respected.”
Maria forced an uneasy laugh. “You misunderstand. Maliyah never complained.”
“She never did?” He looked around once more. “Perhaps she’d already learned complaining accomplished nothing.”
The words struck harder than any accusation.
Maria’s expression stiffened. “We’ve always treated our children fairly.”
Leonardo slowly turned toward her. “Fairly.”
He repeated the word with unmistakable skepticism.
“Tell me something.” He gestured toward the room. “How does the eldest daughter of the Gallo family end up living here?”
Maria opened her mouth. “I...”
“You what?”
“The rooms... were arranged according to...”
“I wasn’t asking about floor plans.” His calm interruption cut through her explanation like a knife. “I was asking about priorities.”
Jasmine stood frozen beside him. She had lived in this room for so many years since her mother married Omar that she’d stopped noticing how different it was from the rest of the house.
She had stopped wondering why Maliyah’s bedroom downstairs had been renovated a lot of times while this room remained untouched.
She had stopped asking why broken furniture was always moved into her room instead of thrown away.
Eventually, she had simply accepted it, accepted being the burden, being the extra child.
Accepted that expecting fairness only led to disappointment.
Never...not even once...had she imagined someone else would notice or care.
Leonardo’s grip around her hand tightened ever so slightly.
“If this is how the Gallo family treats its eldest daughter...”
His eyes settled on Maria. “I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”
Color drained from Maria’s face. “You’re making assumptions, Sir.”
“Am I?”
He glanced toward Jasmine. “I don’t think so..”
Maria could no longer meet his gaze. Jasmine looked at the floor.
Her emotions churned painfully inside her chest. Part of her wanted to stop him.
To tell him it didn’t matter anymore.
That she’d grown used to everything.
Another part...
A much smaller part she had buried years ago wanted him to keep speaking. Wanted someone, just once, to acknowledge what she’d endured.
Leonardo finally stepped back into the corridor.
He adjusted the suitcase in one hand without releasing Jasmine’s.
“I’m finished here.”
Maria hurried after him.
“Mr. Madrigal...”
He stopped. “What is it?”
“I hope...” She forced another smile. “You’ll take good care of my daughter.”
For the first time since arriving, Leonardo looked directly into her eyes. “I will.” His answer came without hesitation. “From today onward...” His deep voice echoed through the corridor. “She’s mine.”
Jasmine’s breath caught. Maria’s face turned pale.
“I don’t care who causes her trouble.” His gaze remained fixed on Maria. Whether strangers or family.”
A cold chill swept through the hallway.
“If anyone makes her suffer again, they’d answer to me.”
Those words frightened Maria far more than anything ever could. “I... understand.”
“Good.” Without another word, Leonardo resumed walking. Still holding Jasmine’s hand.
Still carrying her suitcase.
She followed several steps behind, almost mechanically.
As they approached the staircase, she finally found her voice.
“You didn’t have to say those things.”
He continued walking. “I had to.”
She hesitated and then let out. “Thank you.”
He glanced at her briefly. “For what?”
Jasmine lowered her eyes.
How could she explain it?
No one had ever stood in front of her before. No one had ever questioned why she always gave more than she received. No one had ever looked at that tiny bedroom and called it what it truly was.
Neglect.
Leonardo didn’t press for an answer. Instead, he simply slowed his pace enough for her to walk comfortably beside him.
Behind them, Maria remained standing alone in the corridor.
Only after the pair disappeared downstairs did the strength leave her legs. She grabbed the banister for support.
Cold sweat soaked the back of her blouse.
Her husband emerged from another room, frowning.
“What happened?”
Maria shook her head. “Nothing. He only criticized the bedroom.” She forced a weak smile.
“Did he find out anything else?”
“Not he just thinks we neglected our eldest daughter.”
Omar sighed, relief. “At least he still thinks she’s the eldest.”
As long as Leonardo still believed he had married the woman promised to him, they had to milk the Madrigal family of every cent and opportunities they could get.