Chapter 4 - The Truth from the Bedside
The private pediatric intensive care suite on the eighth floor was quiet, save for the rhythmic, reassuring beep of the heart monitor.
Mateo lay in the center of the broad bed, an oxygen cannula resting gently beneath his nose. His skin had returned to its healthy tone, and his breathing was soft and steady. An IV line ran into the back of his hand, delivering fluids and stabilizing medications.
In the bed beside him, separated only by a small wooden side table, sat Lupita.
Her feet had been carefully cleaned, treated with antiseptic, and wrapped in soft white cotton bandages. She wore a pair of oversized, clean blue hospital pajamas. Her face was washed, and her dark hair was brushed neatly over her shoulders.
An hour prior, her grandmother, Abuela Elena—a woman of seventy with deep lines etched into her face and hands worn rough by decades of hard labor—had arrived at the hospital. Elena sat in a leather armchair next to Lupita’s bed, still staring in disbelief at the luxurious room, the fresh fruit basket on the table, and the three specialist doctors who had spent forty minutes checking her own arthritis and high blood pressure.
The double doors of the suite creaked open, and Alejandro entered the room. He held a small silver tray containing two cups of warm broth and a plate of soft sweet bread.
"How are they doing?" Alejandro asked softly, setting the tray on the bedside table.
"She fell asleep an hour ago, sir," Elena said, her voice shaking slightly as she stood up to curtsy. "Mr. Santillán... I still don't understand... the police cars at the market... the limousine... we are poor people, sir. We cannot pay for any of this—"
"Abuela Elena, please sit down," Alejandro said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back into the armchair. "You will never pay a single cent for anything in this hospital. In fact, I am the one who owes a debt I can never fully repay."
At that moment, a soft stir came from the other bed.
Mateo’s eyelashes twitched. He let out a long breath, opened his eyes, and looked around the room.
"Dad...?" Mateo whispered, his voice raspy.
Alejandro immediately dropped to his knees beside his son's bed, taking Mateo’s small hand in both of his own. "I’m here, buddy. I’m right here. Don't try to sit up too fast."
Mateo blinked, looking at the oxygen tube, the IV line, and then at his father’s face. "Dad... where is Renata?"
Alejandro’s expression darkened briefly before returning to a soft smile. "Renata won't be coming back, Mateo. She’s gone."
Mateo looked down at his blanket, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. "She told me I was bad..." he whispered. "I was hungry... I found the bar in her bag... I didn't know it had nuts in it. When my neck started hurting, I asked her for my whistle... but she took my bag away and told me to sit in the grass so she could talk on her phone..."
Alejandro’s breath caught in his throat. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against his son’s hand. "I know, my boy. I know everything now. I am so sorry I didn't protect you."
Mateo turned his head slightly, his gaze falling onto the bed beside him. He saw Lupita sitting up, watching him with wide brown eyes.
A small smile broke across Mateo’s pale face.
"You didn't let go," Mateo said, his voice stronger now.
Lupita smiled back, shaking her head. "I told you I wouldn't."
Mateo looked at his father. "Dad... when I was lying on the grass, I couldn't breathe at all. Everything was turning dark. And then she came. She picked me up. I told her I was heavy, but she said she was strong because she carries candy boxes every day."
Alejandro looked between the two children, the weight of the realization settling deep into his soul. For months, he had surrounded himself with luxury, high-priced security teams, and individuals like Renata who sought his wealth and status. Yet, when his son was seconds away from death, none of those things mattered. It was a penniless, barefoot girl selling peppermints for pennies who had carried his world on her back.
A knock sounded at the suite door. Marcos stepped inside, carrying a thick leather folder.
"Sir," Marcos said, standing near the door. "The district attorney has reviewed the park footage and Renata’s phone records. They have formally charged her with reckless endangerment, criminal abandonment of a minor, and filing a false police report. Bail has been denied."
"Good," Alejandro said coldly. "Ensure my legal team assists the prosecutor to the fullest extent of the law."
"Also, sir," Marcos added, glancing at Abuela Elena, "we ran a background check on the property where Mrs. Elena and Lupita reside in the Garibaldi district."
Elena looked down at her hands, embarrassed. "It is a poor tenement, sir... the roof leaks, and the landlord is turning us out next week because I couldn't make the rent..."
Alejandro stood up, looking at Marcos. "Who owns the property building?"
"A holding company, sir. I have already contacted their offices. They are prepared to sell the deed immediately."
"Buy the building," Alejandro ordered without hesitation. "Evict the current slumlord, renovate every unit, and transfer the title of the entire property directly to Mrs. Elena Reyes."
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Elena gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "No... no, Mr. Santillán! That is too much! I cannot accept such a thing!"
"That is only the beginning, Abuela Elena," Alejandro said, leaning down to look into Lupita’s eyes. "Your granddaughter didn't just save my son's life today. She saved mine."
