Chapter 17: The Lioness of Madrid
At 2:05 AM, the mansion was entirely dark and silent.
Doña Isabela, however, was not asleep. The elderly matriarch suffered from chronic insomnia, a byproduct of a lifetime spent managing billions of dollars and outmaneuvering corporate sharks. She sat in the dim light of the library, wrapped in a silk robe, reading a leather-bound book on military strategy, a glass of brandy resting on the table beside her.
Upstairs in the east wing, little Valentina was fast asleep in her plush bed, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
Paulina slipped through the kitchen door, her heart hammering against her ribs. She wore dark clothing, blending into the shadows. The fired guard had been right; the analog code had worked, and the cameras had missed her.
Her plan was sloppy, driven purely by spite and a fractured mind. She intended to take the child, hide her, and demand that Diego drop the charges against her father and transfer millions into an untraceable account.
She crept quietly up the back servant stairs—the same stairs Marisol had used for years.
When Paulina reached the second-floor landing, she paused, disoriented by the dark hallway. She took a step toward the east wing, where the child's bedroom was located.
Click. Clack.
The sharp, distinct sound of a silver-headed cane striking the hardwood floor echoed through the silent corridor.
Paulina froze, the blood running cold in her veins.
At the end of the hallway, a solitary figure stepped out of the shadows. Doña Isabela stood there, leaning on her cane. Even in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows, the old woman looked terrifying—a gargoyle guarding its temple.
"You always were a remarkably stupid girl, Paulina," Isabela’s raspy, lethal voice sliced through the silence.
"Doña Isabela," Paulina gasped, taking a step back. "I... I..."
"Did you really think a Villaseñor estate is ever truly unguarded?" Isabela sneered, slowly walking forward, the clack of her cane sounding like a ticking clock. "I saw you on the private monitors in the library five minutes ago. I already pressed the silent alarm. The police will be here in less than two minutes."
Panic seized Paulina. "You don't understand! They ruined my family! Diego ruined my father!"
"Your father ruined himself," Isabela countered coldly, stopping ten feet away. "And now you have sealed your own fate by breaking into my house."
"Move out of my way," Paulina hissed, pulling a heavy, bronze candlestick from a nearby console table. "I just want the brat. If I have her, Diego will have to listen to me!"
Isabela didn't flinch. She didn't retreat. Instead, the elderly woman straightened her spine, raised her silver-headed cane, and leveled it directly at Paulina’s chest like a sword.
"If you want to touch my great-granddaughter," Isabela said, her voice vibrating with centuries of ruthless aristocratic blood, "you will have to kill me first. And I promise you, girl, I will not make it easy."
Paulina let out a frustrated cry and lunged forward.
Before she could close the distance, the hallway was flooded with blinding tactical lights. Four heavily armed estate security guards swarmed the staircase, tackling Paulina to the rug. The bronze candlestick clattered harmlessly away.
Paulina screamed and thrashed as handcuffs were brutally slapped onto her wrists.
Isabela watched the pathetic display with utter disgust. She lowered her cane, smoothed the lapels of her silk robe, and looked down at the sobbing woman.
"Take this trash out of my sight," Isabela commanded the guards. "And tell the police she attempted kidnapping and assault. I want her buried under the jail."
As they dragged Paulina away, one of the bedroom doors slowly creaked open. Valentina stood there, rubbing her eyes, her little duck socks padding against the floor.
"Grandma Bela?" Valentina asked softly, confused by the noise.
May you like
The cold, ruthless matriarch melted instantly. She walked over as quickly as her aged legs could manage and scooped the little girl up into her arms, pressing a kiss to Valentina’s hair.
"Hush now, princesa," Isabela whispered, holding the child tightly against her chest. "It was just a bad dream. Grandma is here. No one will ever hurt you."
