Chương 8
The counselor looked at Mariana.
She sat in the chair farthest from him.
“All right,” she said.
The principal reviewed the plan again. Classroom monitoring. A conversation about digital cruelty without showing the video. Access to the counselor. Direct contact if any image was shared on school devices.
Mariana agreed.
In the car, Emiliano buckled his seat belt and looked straight ahead.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He picked at the edge of the buckle.
“For what?”
“For going into the principal’s office this morning when you asked me not to.”
He did not respond.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“I know.”
“I made it bigger.”
“A little.”
She started the engine but did not pull away.
“I don’t always know the difference,” she said.
“Between what?”
“Protecting you and taking over.”
He considered this with the solemnity he usually reserved for complicated game rules.
“You can ask.”
“Ask what?”
“If I want you to do something.”
The answer was so simple that it embarrassed her.
“I can.”
“And if I say no, don’t do it.”
“That part may require negotiation.”
He glanced at her.
She added, “Depending on the thing.”
“Like if I say no to school?”
“Exactly.”
“What about if I say no to talking about the video?”
Mariana placed both hands on the wheel.
“Then we do not talk about it until you want to.”
He nodded.
They drove home in silence.
At a traffic light, her phone lit with a message from Lorena.
You made Rogelio tell me everything.
Mariana read it but did not reply.
Another message appeared.
You have always wanted to prove I cannot live without you.
Then:
Congratulations.
Mariana turned the phone facedown.
At home, Emiliano opened the broken chocolate goalpost from the refrigerator. Their repair had hardened crookedly.
“It looks bad,” he said.
“It has structural problems.”
“It looks like it lost a game.”
“Most goalposts do not participate.”
“This one did.”
He set it on a plate and broke off a piece.
“Are we supposed to eat it?” Mariana asked.
“It’s chocolate.”
“That was not my question.”
He ate the piece.
She broke off another.
That evening, the video passed one hundred thousand views.
By morning, it had acquired music, captions, reaction clips, and a false backstory claiming Mariana had refused to buy Diego a phone before he jumped. A local entertainment account posted both sisters’ names. Someone found Mariana’s firm. Someone else found Lorena’s public profile.
The comments under Lorena’s photographs turned vicious.
People called her cruel, greedy, and unfit to raise a child. Some sent threats. One posted the address of a building that was not hers but belonged to a woman with the same surname.
Lorena removed her original story and replaced it with a black screen.
My family is receiving threats. Please stop sharing content involving our children.
Mariana read the sentence twice.
It was the first public statement from her sister that acknowledged more than one child.
Her attorney advised silence.
Sofía advised a short statement from the firm confirming that the event was private and unrelated to clients.
Andrés advised Mariana to stop refreshing the page.
Her mother advised prayer, which in Camila’s usage meant that everyone should stop making decisions she could not control.
Mariana issued the firm statement and nothing else.
For two days, she worked badly.
She approved a report containing a duplicated table. She forgot a client call. During a staff meeting, she asked an analyst to repeat a figure already displayed on the screen. No one commented. Their careful professionalism made her feel worse.
At lunch on Wednesday, Sofía entered Mariana’s office carrying two coffees and a paper bag.
“I did not investigate your sister,” she said.
“Good.”
“I did speak to our benefits coordinator because you signed the annual payments.”
Mariana looked up.
“Diego’s asthma medication is covered through the school plan,” Sofía continued. “There is no separate medical transfer.”
“Lorena lied.”
“She implied. That is not always the same.”
“It is when she wanted money.”
Sofía placed a coffee on the desk. “Your mother called reception.”
“Do not put her through.”
“I did not.”
“What did she want?”
“To invite you to dinner Friday.”
“No.”
“She invited Lorena too.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She said she is making mole.”
Mariana looked at the paper bag. “Is that supposed to influence me?”
“It influenced me.”
Sofía sat across from her and removed two tamales from the bag.
“I am not going,” Mariana said.
“I did not say you should.”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The face everyone uses before explaining my personality.”
Sofía unwrapped a tamale. “Your personality is not mysterious enough to require explanation.”
Mariana almost smiled.
Sofía ate a bite and waited.
“What?” Mariana asked.
“The photographer emailed the firm.”
“Why?”
“He says Lorena contacted him through another account and offered money for footage.”
Mariana’s appetite disappeared.
“Did he send it?”
“No. He forwarded the request.”
The message was brief. Lorena asked for any angle that showed Mariana calling security. She claimed she needed it to defend her child.
Mariana forwarded the message to her attorney.
Then she opened a new email and attached the full video.
Sofía watched her.
“To whom?”
“No one yet.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“I could end this.”
“Could you?”
“The full recording shows her pushing Diego.”
“It shows a woman touching her son’s back.”
“It shows planning.”
“To people who already agree with you.”
Mariana’s finger rested above the trackpad.
Sofía folded the tamale wrapper into a narrow strip. “To everyone else, it is more content.”
“She is trying to obtain footage.”
“Because she is frightened.”
“That does not excuse her.”
“I did not say it did.”
Mariana closed the email without sending it.
At four, Diego called.
His name appeared on her phone, but the number belonged to an old tablet connected to the family account. She let it ring twice before answering.
“Hello?”
There was breathing on the line.
“Diego?”
May you like
“Aunt Mariana?”
His voice sounded younger without a room full of adults around it.
