Chapter 4 - The Kitchen Table ConfessionTwenty minutes after Chloe's Mercedes disappeared down the private lane, I walked through the kitchen doors.
Marisol was sitting at the wooden island table. She had a cup of chamomile tea in front of her, and Valeria and Sofia were sitting quietly on either side of her, their small hands wrapped around her forearms as if afraid she might vanish into thin air.
When the kitchen door swung open, Marisol instantly stood up, stepping protectively in front of the girls.
"Mr. Vance," Marisol said, her voice tight with defensive dignity. "I know Miss Chloe probably told you what happened. If you want to fire me without severance, go ahead. But before you do, I need you to know the truth about how—"
"Marisol," I interrupted softly.
I set my briefcase down on the counter, walked over, and pulled out a chair opposite her.
"Sit down, please," I said.
Marisol hesitated, glancing at the girls, then slowly lowered herself back into her seat.
I looked at Valeria and Sofia, whose eyes were wide with terrified anticipation, expecting the worst.
"Girls," I said, my voice cracking slightly with emotion I couldn't entirely hide. "I want to apologize to both of you."
Valeria blinked. "For what, Daddy?"
"For not paying close enough attention," I said, reaching across the table to take both of their small hands. "For letting someone into our home who didn't treat you with the kindness and love you deserve. For believing lies instead of watching what was right in front of me."
Sofia tilted her head, her brown eyes searching my face. "Are you mad at Marisol?"
"No, sweetheart," I smiled, though my throat felt tight. "I am not mad at Marisol. In fact, Marisol is the best friend this family has ever had."
Marisol’s breath caught. A sudden tear spilled over her eyelashes, tracking down her cheek. "Mr. Vance... you saw?"
"I saw everything, Marisol," I said quietly. "I never went to Canada. I was sitting in the security monitoring room the entire time."
Silence fell over the kitchen, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator.
"You didn't go to Toronto?" Marisol whispered.
"I wanted to test a suspicion," I admitted, looking down at my hands. "Chloe told me things were missing. She told me you were turning my daughters against me. For a brief, stupid moment, I let doubt creep in. So I set a trap."
I looked up, locking eyes with Marisol. "Instead of finding a thief, I found a mother figure protecting my children from a tyrant. And for that, Marisol, I can never thank you enough."
Valeria let out a soft gasp, throwing her arms around my neck from across the table. "You're not going to make Marisol leave?"
"Never," I promised, hugging my daughter tight. "In fact, Marisol is getting a permanent promotion, a massive pay increase, and complete operational authority over this household."
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Marisol shook her head, wiping her eyes with a paper napkin, smiling through her tears. "I don't need a promotion, Mr. Vance. I just need these girls to be safe."
"They are safe," I said, standing up and straightening my jacket. "And now, it’s time to deal with the person who isn't safe to keep around."
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