Rafael froze. Why her? What did this stranger carry that he couldn’t see?
“I accept the job,” the woman said softly. “When do I start?”
—Tomorrow, Rafael replied too quickly.
That night, he didn’t sleep. Something about her unsettled him—not suspicion exactly, but fear. Fear of trusting again.
At three in the morning, he made a choice that felt both protective and shameful. He ordered discreet security cameras. Six of them. For Sofia’s safety, he told himself—though deep down, he knew it was also his inability to trust.
He installed them himself. One in a clock. One in a fan. One hidden in decor. And one—most important—inside Sofia’s closet.
When he finished, the house felt like it was watching him back.
On Monday, Camila arrived on time.
Rafael opened the app on his phone like someone reopening a wound.
She cleaned efficiently. Quietly. Guilt crept in. Maybe he was wrong.
Then Sofia cried.
Camila ran immediately. She lifted the baby with instinctive care, checked her diaper, soothed her. All normal—until she did something no one else ever had.
She laid Sofia face down on a colorful playmat.
Rafael’s heart nearly stopped.
Camila lay beside her, eye to eye.
—Let’s play, princess.