The Rabbit Lucia Sewed
Chapter 03 - The Rabbit Lucia Sewed
The white rabbit had belonged to Martina since the hospital.
Lucia had bought it before the baby was born, a ridiculous thing with one floppy ear and stitched black eyes that made Emiliano laugh because it looked permanently disappointed.
Lucia had said, “Good. Every Duarte woman needs a witness who judges men properly.”
He had forgotten that line.
Or he had buried it under funeral arrangements, board meetings, school schedules, and Patricia’s gentle insistence that grief became unhealthy when children clung to objects too long.
Martina called the rabbit Lolo.
She slept with it under her chin, carried it to breakfast, tucked it into the seat beside her during piano lessons. Once, when Emiliano suggested Lolo might need a rest, Martina looked at him as if he had proposed abandonment.
Now, on the surveillance monitor, Patricia stared at the rabbit on the sofa arm with a stillness that made Emiliano’s skin crawl.
“She knows,” Mateo said.
Emiliano did not ask what.
He was done asking too late.
In the living room, Patricia walked toward the sofa.
Martina’s whole body tightened.
Daniela stepped in front of her little sister.
“Don’t.”
Patricia’s smile returned.
“Daniela, you are becoming rude.”
Rosa said, “Miss Patricia.”
Patricia did not look at her.
She reached for the rabbit.
Emiliano left the surveillance room.
Mateo followed, speaking into his radio as they moved through the hidden corridor behind the library shelves. Emiliano’s suitcase sat abandoned by the door. The European flight would take off without him. Let it.
By the time he reached the living room entrance, Patricia had Lolo in her hand.
Martina was crying now, silently, which hurt him more than if she had screamed.
Daniela’s eyes widened when she saw him.
“Daddy?”
Patricia turned.
The performance returned so quickly it almost impressed him.
“Emiliano,” she breathed, clutching the rabbit as if she had rescued it from danger. “You’re home?”
He looked at his daughters first.
That was the difference.
Not at Patricia. Not at Rosa. Not at the broken photograph pieces missing from the rug.
At Daniela and Martina.
Both girls stood behind Rosa.
His children had placed the housekeeper between themselves and his future wife.
“Come here,” he said gently.
Martina hesitated.
That hesitation broke him.
Emiliano crouched.
“Mi cielo. Come here.”
She ran then, not because fear vanished, but because he had made his voice small enough for her to trust. Daniela followed more slowly, watching Patricia as if waiting for punishment.
Emiliano wrapped one arm around Martina and held the other open to Daniela.
His older daughter entered it stiffly.
He deserved that stiffness.
Patricia laughed softly.
“Well. This is dramatic.”
Emiliano looked up.
“Give me the rabbit.”
Her fingers tightened.
“Martina was being difficult. I was simply—”
“Give me the rabbit.”
The room went quiet.
Patricia placed Lolo into his hand.
The stuffed animal felt warm from her grip. Emiliano gave it to Martina, who clutched it so tightly her knuckles went pale.
“Rosa,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take the girls to the breakfast room. Mateo will stay outside the door.”
Patricia’s eyes flashed. “You cannot be serious.”
Emiliano stood.
“I am very serious.”
Daniela looked at him.
“Daddy, the photograph—”
“I know.”
“You don’t know all of it.”
His chest tightened.
“I know. That changes now.”
Rosa guided the girls away.
At the doorway, Martina turned back.
“Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t let her throw Lolo away.”
Emiliano closed his eyes for one second.
“I won’t.”
Only when the girls were gone did he face Patricia.
She had already arranged her expression into hurt dignity.
“You staged this?”
“I canceled my flight.”
“Because of her?” Patricia gestured toward the hall where Rosa had disappeared. “Because the housekeeper has been filling their heads?”
He spoke quietly.
“Because my daughters are afraid of you.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Children resist discipline.”
“No. Children resist cruelty when they have someone safe enough to stand behind.”
That landed.
Patricia recovered fast.
“You have been watching too many screens and not enough context.”
“I watched you take my daughter’s rabbit.”
“I moved a toy.”
“You tore a photograph.”
“It was unhealthy for Daniela to obsess over your dead wife.”
The words lay in the room between them.
Dead wife.
Not Lucia.
Not their mother.
Emiliano felt old grief stir, not as fog but as fire.
“Leave,” he said.
Patricia blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Go to your suite. Do not speak to my children. Do not speak to Rosa. Do not leave the property until my attorney arrives.”
She laughed once.
“You are treating me like a criminal.”
“I am treating you like a woman I finally watched.”
Her face changed.
For the first time, the cold underneath showed without polish.
“You think you can humiliate me five days before our wedding?”
“I think the wedding is no longer your greatest concern.”
Patricia stepped closer.
“Be careful, Emiliano. Grief makes men sentimental. It does not make them wise.”
He looked at her.
“Neither does money.”
She went still.
Mateo entered quietly.
“Sir, I found the privacy-zone authorization.”
Emiliano did not look away from Patricia.
“And?”
Mateo’s voice was grim.
“It came from your account. Digital signature.”
Patricia smiled faintly.
There it was.
The old trap.
Emiliano turned to Mateo.
“Trace it.”
“Already done.”
Patricia’s smile faded.
Mateo continued.
“The login came from Miss Patricia’s tablet.”
Emiliano looked back.
Patricia’s face held.
Barely.
Then from the breakfast room came Daniela’s voice, sharp with fear.
“Rosa, don’t open it!”
Emiliano ran.
No one stopped him this time.
On the table in the breakfast room, Lolo the rabbit lay beside Daniela’s book.
Rosa held a small seam ripper in one hand, frozen.
Martina sobbed into her sister’s side.
And from inside the rabbit’s loosened stitching, a folded envelope had fallen out.
May you like
On it was Lucia’s handwriting.
For Emiliano, when the girls finally stop pretending.
