I came back early and found my wife silently washing dishes; my own family had her hidden away as a servant, and when I heard them tell her, “You should be grateful to be here,” I knew everything was rotten.

I took Lucía’s cold hand and led her upstairs. The music still played, unaware everything was about to change.

No one in that house expected what was coming.

PART 2

The music stopped the moment I unplugged the speaker.
Voices faded. My mother, Estela, turned, annoyed, holding her wine glass. Rodrigo stopped laughing. Guests stared—first at me, then at Lucía, her sleeves still damp.

“What a lovely gathering,” I said. “Too bad the owner of this house was downstairs washing dishes like a servant.”