Then it hardened again.
“I don’t care how she ended up with you. You’ve had my child for three weeks. You will pay for it.”
His words sharpened with every syllable.
“I didn’t steal your child,” I said evenly, forcing my voice to remain steady. “If I had, I wouldn’t be standing in your company on my very first day as your assistant—with her right there beside me. I wouldn’t have brought her into your building. I wouldn’t have sat her in a visitor’s chair like she’s something to conceal.”
I drew in a breath.
“I don’t take children, Mr. Perez. And you cannot honestly believe a blind woman could orchestrate something so elaborate without it collapsing around her immediately.”
My fingers tightened on the desk—not in anger, but to keep myself anchored.
“You have to believe me,” I added more quietly. “I didn’t take her. I found her. I helped her.”
His silence shifted.
I could feel it.
So I pushed forward.
“Do you remember the night your brother broke into my apartment?”
I didn’t need sight to know I had him.
“The same night you saved me,” I continued, my voice tightening at the memory. “That was the night she appeared on my doorstep.”
My hand moved instinctively toward Zara.
“Barefoot,” I said softly. “Bruised. Terrified. She couldn’t even stand properly.”
My throat tightened.
“She was begging for help.”
I swallowed.
“I took her in. Cleaned her wounds. Gave her food. Warm soup. Safety—something she clearly hadn’t known in a long time.”
A breath.
“She barely speaks. She’s autistic. Very attached to me. She panics when she’s separated for too long.”
My voice lowered slightly.
“She just wants to stay close. Always.”
Then, carefully—
“You know she’s autistic... don’t you?”
Silence answered me.
My chest tightened.
“I’m only asking one thing,” I said, softer now. “Please... don’t take her away from me completely.”
“You stand in my office,” Rafael said coldly, “and dare to make demands?”
