“I earn minimum wage, boss… and I pay for two buses and a subway to get here. It’s not even enough for a kilo of beans,” she whispered through tears. “The food your wife throws away is the only meat my three children eat all week. If that makes me a thief… then I am one. And I’d do it a hundred times over for them.”

The businessman closed his eyes, feeling his heart break in two. He was about to help the woman up when a cold, dry laugh froze the room.

Miranda was leaning against the door frame. In her right hand she held a thick manila folder.

“What a touching scene,” he said, with venomous sarcasm. “What a shame the law doesn’t care about feelings. I’m filing a formal complaint tomorrow at 9 a.m.”

Don Arturo got up slowly.

—What nonsense are you talking about?

“I already spoke with a lawyer,” Miranda replied without blinking, tapping the folder with one finger. “Removing property from this estate is theft. It’s a five-year prison sentence. And now it’s your turn to decide, Arturo. Either you support me, we send this woman to prison, and we remain a respectable family… or you side with her.”

Miranda took one step forward, with a macabre smile on her lips.

—But if you choose this maid… I swear I’ll take full custody of the three children, I’ll take 50 percent of your restaurants, and I’ll leave you destitute. It’s your choice.

The air in the kitchen was thick with tension. It wasn’t a marital spat. It was an all-out declaration of war. And the clock had started ticking.

The silence in the kitchen was as heavy as a lead weight. Don Arturo didn’t take his eyes off Miranda. He searched her eyes for the woman he had married 15 years ago, but there wasn’t a trace of her left. Before him stood only a monster driven by ego and classism.

“It’s your choice,” she repeated, lifting her chin. “This cat… or your three children and your empire.”

Carmelita trembled, placing her hands on the dirty floor.

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