Chapter 15
Chapter 15: The First Candle
The garden of the Santiago house was bathed in golden late-afternoon sunlight.
Colorful papel picado fluttered in the gentle mountain breeze. A small acoustic band played softly in the corner.
It was Mateo’s first birthday.
There were no toxic relatives. There were no false friends or business associates invited merely to keep up appearances. The garden was filled only with people who genuinely loved them—Valeria’s loyal colleagues, the lawmakers who had become her allies, and the few true friends who had helped her escape the dark years.
Mateo sat in his highchair, his face smeared with vanilla frosting, laughing hysterically as a golden retriever licked a drop of cake from his knee.
Valeria stood back, holding a glass of sparkling water, watching her son.
May you like
There was no shadow looming over his joy. He would never know the sound of shouting through the walls. He would never learn to walk on eggshells. He would grow up knowing only the security of the mountains and the fierce, unyielding love of his mother.
The cycle of abuse had been broken. It ended with her.
