Chapter 5 - The Master SuiteWhile Diego was securing their future at the office, Marisol was losing her grip on reality at the mansion.
She stood in the center of the master suite, clutching Valentina’s hand so tightly her knuckles ached. The room was larger than the entire house she had grown up in. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a sprawling private garden. The bed was a massive four-poster masterpiece draped in silk.
It felt wrong.
For three years, she had been trained to look at the floor. She was conditioned to scrub these baseboards, not walk on these Persian rugs.
"Mama?" Valentina tugged at Marisol’s hand, looking up with wide eyes. She pointed at a massive pile of velvet boxes sitting on the sitting area couch. "Presents?"
Before Marisol could answer, the bedroom doors opened. A small army of women walked in, wheeling racks of designer clothing and carrying cases of high-end cosmetics.
"Señora Villaseñor!" a chic woman in a sharp black suit announced, clapping her hands together. "I am Claudia, Señor Diego’s personal stylist. We have a lot of work to do. He requested a complete wardrobe overhaul for you and the little princess. Prada, Chanel, Dior—we brought it all!"
Marisol backed up, her heart hammering against her ribs. "No... no, there’s a mistake. I can't pay for this."
"Oh, sweetie," Claudia smiled warmly. "Your husband has given me a blank check. Now, let’s get you out of that awful uniform, shall we?"
Husband.
The word made Marisol dizzy. She wasn't his wife. She was the maid he had knocked up. She was the secret that had almost ruined his life.
Over the next three hours, Marisol and Valentina were pampered like royalty. Valentina squealed with delight as she was dressed in a custom pale-pink tulle dress, her dark hair brushed and styled with a diamond-encrusted clip.
Marisol, however, sat frozen as makeup artists and hairdressers worked their magic. When they finally stepped back and turned her toward the full-length mirror, Marisol gasped.
The exhausted, bruised maid was gone.
Staring back at her was a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in loose, glossy waves. Her skin was flawless, her cheekbones sharp and elegant. She was wearing a perfectly tailored emerald green silk gown that clung to her curves and made her dark eyes shine.
She looked like a queen. But she felt like an imposter.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors clicked open.
Diego stepped into the suite. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened, his hair slightly messy from running his hands through it. But the moment his eyes landed on Marisol, he froze.
The stylists quickly bowed and rushed out of the room, sensing the heavy, electric tension in the air.
Diego walked toward her slowly, as if he were approaching a mirage that might vanish if he moved too fast.
"You..." Diego breathed, stopping inches from her. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."
Tears sprang to Marisol’s eyes. She looked down, breaking eye contact. "It’s just a dress, Diego. Underneath it, I'm still just... me. The girl from the slums. The maid."
Diego’s hand shot out, his long fingers gently but firmly grabbing her chin and tilting her face up to meet his gaze.
"Don't ever say that," he whispered fiercely, his eyes blazing. "You are Marisol. The woman who survived this brutal world to protect my child. The woman who holds my entire heart in her hands. You belong here, by my side. Do you hear me?"
Before she could respond, tiny footsteps padded across the thick rug.
Valentina tugged on Diego’s pant leg. "Papa! Look! I’m a princess!"
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Diego looked down, a blinding smile breaking across his face. He scooped his daughter up into his arms, tossing her slightly into the air to hear her giggle.
"You are a princess," Diego agreed, kissing her cheek. He wrapped his free arm around Marisol’s waist, pulling her flush against his chest. "And this is our castle. And I will burn the world down before I let anyone take you from me again."
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