only had 2 options.
Missing work and losing a day’s pay that I needed to pay the rent.
Or take Mia, 3 years old, with me and hide her for a few hours.
I chose the second one.
I set it up in a small room next to the laundry room with drawings, juice, and cookies.
—Don’t leave here, princess.
—And then ice cream?
—Then ice cream.
I should have understood that no agreement signed with ice cream is legally binding for a 3-year-old girl.
At 9:10 I went to look for her.
The room was empty.
I felt the blood draining to my feet.
I walked around the kitchen.
The courtyard.
The bathrooms.
Until I heard her little voice.
I was coming from the office.
I opened the door just a few centimeters.
Mia was standing in front of Vicente’s enormous desk.
She was wearing her yellow dress
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