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His face has changed.
The warmth he showed you at the table is gone. In its place is something colder, older, and far more dangerous than anger. For the first time, you understand that the quiet man by the park fountain is not only lonely.
He is powerful.
“Regina,” he says, “apologize.”
His sister blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Regina laughs once, sharp and fake. “To her?”
“To Carmen,” he says. “Use her name.”
Your throat tightens.
No one in a house like this has ever defended your name before.
Regina looks at you with open disgust. “You cannot be serious.”
Alejandro’s hands tighten on the armrests of his wheelchair. “I have never been more serious in my life.”
Regina steps closer to him, lowering her voice but not enough. “This is exactly what I warned the doctors about. You’re lonely, vulnerable, and now some street vendor has found a way into your house.”
You flinch.
Alejandro sees it.
That makes his eyes darken.
“You think she came here to use me?” he asks.
Regina folds her arms. “Men like you are always targets.”
You notice the words.
Men like you.
Not brothers.
Not family.
Not people.
Men like you.