Chapter 2 - The Departure
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Mauricio did not shout. He did not throw the expensive espresso cup across the room, though his hands shook with the violent urge to do exactly that.
He bent down, ignoring the dampness seeping into his tailored trousers, and lifted Renata effortlessly into his arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her small, trembling breaths warming his skin. Her hands were still wet and smelled sharply of lemon dish soap.
"Get your coat, sweetie," Mauricio whispered softly into her ear.
"Mauricio, don't be dramatic," his mother, Carmen, sighed, finally turning around to face him. She set the wine glass down on the marble counter with a sharp, dismissive click. "We are simply teaching her the value of hard work. You coddle her entirely too much. In the real world, children like her need to know how to be useful."
"Children like her?" Mauricio repeated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that made even his father take a hesitant step backward.
"You know what your mother means," Arthur interjected, smoothing the lapels of his expensive cardigan. "She isn't blood. She doesn't have the family name running through her veins. We tolerate her for your sake, but we will not treat her like royalty."
"You will not treat her at all," Mauricio said. The finality in his voice hung in the air like a guillotine blade. "Because you are never going to see her again."
"Don't be ridiculous," his father scoffed. "You're acting like a child. You'll be back for Sunday dinner. You always are."
Mauricio didn't answer. He turned his back on them, holding his daughter securely against his chest, and walked out of the kitchen. He bypassed the living room, where Sofia and Emma were currently fighting over a plastic doll, completely oblivious to the shifting tectonic plates of their family's foundation.
He grabbed Renata's small wool coat from the hook by the door, wrapped her in it, and stepped out into the biting November wind.
The walk to his car was a blur of cold rain and blinding rage. He strapped Renata into her car seat with meticulous care, making sure she was warm and secure before climbing into the driver's seat.
He gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. The engine roared to life, a low hum that masked the sound of his ragged breathing.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," a small voice broke the silence from the back seat.
Mauricio looked in the rearview mirror. Renata was looking down at her hands, her lower lip trembling.
"What are you sorry for, my love?" he asked, his heart fracturing into a thousand pieces.
"I didn't finish the plates. Grandma is going to be mad."
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Mauricio swallowed the heavy lump of sorrow in his throat. He put the car in drive and pulled away from the sprawling, lifeless mansion.
"You never have to wash another plate for them as long as you live, Renata," he promised fiercely to the dark road ahead. "You are my daughter. And tonight, we are leaving them behind."
