The Justice of the Heart
Maria stopped playing with the children and stood up, her face reflecting a mixture of surprise and slight apprehension. Her gaze, always so serene, now showed a spark of uncertainty.
“Yes, Mr. Ricardo?” he asked, his voice soft.
The children, sensing the tension, remained silent, observing the two adults.
Don Ricardo took a deep breath. “Maria, please come with me to my study. And please, don’t worry, the children will be fine here.”
Maria nodded, though the confusion in her eyes was evident. She followed Don Ricardo, who felt a knot in his stomach. He knew this conversation wouldn’t be easy, but it was necessary.
Once in the study, Don Ricardo indicated that she should sit in one of the luxurious leather chairs. Maria hesitated, accustomed to standing in his presence, but finally took a seat on the edge, her hands clasped.
Don Ricardo sat down opposite her, behind his imposing mahogany desk. He looked at his hands, and then looked up to meet Maria’s eyes.
“Maria,” he began, his voice a little hoarse. “I’ve… I’ve been watching. And I’ve heard some things.”
Maria’s eyes opened slightly. A blush crept up her neck.
“I know about your sick mother,” Don Ricardo continued, ignoring his own discomfort. “And I know about the sacrifices you make. I’ve seen them.”
Maria lowered her gaze, visibly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean for my personal problems to interfere with my work.”
“That’s not it,” interrupted Don Ricardo. “It’s quite the opposite. I’ve seen how you take care of my children. How you read to them, how you give them that sweet little game. How you give them the love and attention that I, their own father, haven’t given them.”
Maria looked up, surprised by the frankness of his words.
“I’m ashamed to say it,” Don Ricardo continued, his voice lower. “But you’ve given them more happiness with a story and a piece of candy than I have with all the luxuries I’ve bought them.”
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