Chapter 4 - THE BLOODLINE'S VENOM
The air in the sunroom froze instantly.
Elena stood her ground, her gaze cool and unbothered despite the woman's aristocratic venom. "I am Elena Castillo. I am their private music instructor and resident guardian."
"Resident guardian?" Beatrice laughed—a cold, hollow sound that lacked any warmth. "Ricardo has truly lost his mind. Hiring a girl off the street who looks like she buys her wardrobe from a thrift store to manage the Flores heirs."
"Aunt Beatrice," Sofia said, her voice small, lacking her usual sharp defiance. "Dad said you were in Paris."
"I was in Paris, darling, until I heard your father hired another nobody to raise you," Beatrice said, walking over to Valentina and forcefully taking the violin from her small hands, inspecting it with disgust. "Look at this instrument. Out of tune. Scratched. This family used to stand for elegance. Now it looks like a circus."
"Give that back to her," Elena said quietly.
Beatrice paused, turning her head slowly to look at Elena. "What did you say to me?"
"I said, give the instrument back to Valentina," Elena repeated, taking three deliberate steps forward until she was standing inches from the taller woman. "You don't enter my classroom without permission, you don't speak to my students like that, and you certainly don't take an instrument out of a musician's hands."
Beatrice’s hazel eyes flashed with pure rage. "You arrogant little worm. You don't know who I am. My sister was the queen of this empire before she died! I own thirty percent of the holding company that funds this very estate!"
"And yet," a smooth, dark voice echoed from the balcony stairs, "you still need my authorization to pass through the front gate, Beatrice."
Ricardo descended the winding staircase slowly, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his presence commanding the entire room.
Beatrice turned on her heel, her silk suit rustling. "Ricardo! Look at this! You've let a servant speak to me this way? She’s turning the children into barbarians!"
Ricardo walked up to Elena, stepping slightly in front of her—a protective stance so subtle that only Marco, watching from above, noticed it. He took the violin from Beatrice's hands and gently handed it back to Valentina, who clutched it against her chest like a lifeline.
"Elena is not a servant, Beatrice," Ricardo said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "She is an employee I personally selected. Her authority over the children's education within these walls is absolute."
"She’s a nobody!" Beatrice hissed, stepping closer to Ricardo, her voice dropping into a bitter whisper so the kids couldn't hear. "Have you forgotten who her employer is? Have you forgotten what happened to Isabella because you trusted outsiders? Gabriel Vance’s men are still out there, Ricardo! And you bring a girl with no security clearance into the inner sanctum of our family?!"
Elena’s ears burned. Vance-Flores. The name clicked in her mind. Beatrice was Isabella's sister—the sister of the murdered wife. She carried the same blood as the rival syndicate that had destroyed Ricardo's family.
"Beatrice," Ricardo said, his gray-hazel eyes locking onto hers with terrifying finality. "If you ever speak to my staff or my children in that tone again, I will liquidate your thirty percent holding shares before the markets close today. Do I make myself clear?"
Beatrice gasped, her face turning crimson with humiliation. She looked from Ricardo to Elena, her eyes burning with a deep, obsessive hatred.
"You're a fool, Ricardo," Beatrice spat, snapping her leather briefcase shut. "You think you can hide behind these canyon walls forever? The Vance family hasn't forgotten Isabella. And neither have I."
She turned on her heel and stormed out of the sunroom, her heels clicking violently against the marble floor until the heavy front doors slammed shut behind her.
Silence settled over the room.
Leo looked up at his father, his spoon still clutched in his hand. "Is she going to come back?"
"No," Ricardo said softly, walking over and placing a large, reassuring hand on Leo's head, gently rustling his dark hair. "She isn't."
He turned to look at Elena. For a fleeting second, the cold mask he wore slid away, revealing a glimpse of profound exhaustion and deep gratitude.
"Thank you, Elena," he said quietly.
Elena looked at him, her heart doing a strange, unexpected flip in her chest. "She was wrong about one thing, Mr. Flores."
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Ricardo raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"Your children aren't barbarians," Elena said, a soft, resilient smile touching her lips as she looked at the four quadruplets, who were watching her with newfound awe. "They're just waiting for someone to teach them how to play."
