Alejandro was gone for nearly twenty-four hours.

To most people, that would have meant nothing. But Lucía knew him well — he never stepped away from something he considered his. If he disappeared, it was because he was arranging something behind the scenes.

Carmen Ruiz noticed the shift first. After a quiet adjustment in Lucía’s treatment plan, the lab results began to improve. The liver values that had been climbing dangerously were now stabilizing. It wasn’t dramatic, but it directly contradicted the earlier warning that she had “no more than three days.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” the attending doctor muttered, studying the monitor. “If the damage were irreversible, we wouldn’t see this kind of response.”

Carmen and Lucía exchanged a look. The pattern was becoming clear.

Alejandro returned the next day, impeccably dressed, wearing his usual refined cologne and the carefully rehearsed expression of concern he displayed so well in public.

“How is she?” he asked at the nurses’ station.

“Stable,” Carmen answered evenly.