Chapter 66 CHAPTER 67

Chapter 66 CHAPTER 67

Another month passed.
Julieta had gone from a bump to a belly, and from a belly to a weight that could no longer be hidden, even in bed. She slept poorly now, not because of fear but because of discomfort. She ate five times a day, small amounts each time, because anything more wouldn’t fit. She moved slowly through the mansion, steadying herself on furniture, and when she sat on the edge of Vladimir’s bed, she did it in stages.
Vladimir remained the same.
That was what weighed most heavily on the house. Vladimir wasn’t getting worse, but he wasn’t getting better either. He wasn’t leaving, and he wasn’t coming back. Lina checked on him every four hours. The doctor came once a week. The numbers never changed.
Stable. No changes. Waiting.
Julieta had learned to live inside that word.
Waiting.
She talked to him every day. She told him about her day. Sometimes she read aloud from the university books she had left unfinished. She placed his hand on her belly whenever Lucio moved. One afternoon, she told him an entire story about Gabriela at school. She even continued trimming his nails herself whenever Lina allowed it, because it was a way of caring for him that couldn’t be done in a hospital.
Ernesto stopped by the mansion at the end of each day, sometimes with Ángela, sometimes alone. He would go upstairs to the bedroom and give Julieta a report, as though Julieta were, in every way that mattered, his cousin’s wife and therefore the person who needed to know.
“The hunt continues.”
“Anything?”
“Something. The circle’s closing. Andrés is moving less. That means he knows he’s being hunted. Someone who moves less is easier to find, but also more dangerous if he finds you first. We’re at that stage.”
“Ernesto.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t sugarcoat it for me. Am I getting close to the end, or are we still far away?”
“Close. Weeks, not months. I’m not telling you so you can count the days—I’m telling you because you asked me not to lie to you. Andrés knows he’s losing. And a man who knows he’s losing becomes an idiot. That’s the ugly part.”
“Understood.”
“The house security has doubled. Restrepo sleeps here now.”
“I noticed.”
“Don’t go beyond the gate, Juli. For any reason. If you need something, Rosa will get it, or Mario will.”
“Mario?”
“Mario.”

Mario arrived at the mansion on a Thursday near the end of the afternoon.
He came through the main entrance, not the service entrance, because Ernesto had given the order. He arrived in a car that wasn’t his own and got out carrying a cane.
Julieta saw him from the window of the master bedroom. She recognized him by his back before she recognized his face. She made her way downstairs as quickly as she could, holding onto the banister, and by the time she reached the foyer, Mario was already standing inside the entrance with a suitcase beside him, receiving a hug from Rosa—a woman who never hugged anyone and who hugged him twice that day.
“Mario.”
He turned around.
His face was thinner. Older. Three months of hospitals and surgeries had stripped away weight and added years. He limped on his right side; it was obvious the moment he moved. The cane was in his left hand.
“Miss.”
“Mario, come here.”
Julieta crossed the foyer as fast as her belly allowed and wrapped her arms around him. Mario didn’t hug her back immediately, because a chauffeur of fifteen years doesn’t instinctively embrace the lady of the house. But she didn’t let go of his neck, and eventually he slipped his right arm around her back, carefully, just enough.
“You’ve got quite a belly, Miss.”
“I hear that a lot.”
Mario laughed.
A broken, brief laugh from a man who hadn’t laughed in months.
“I’m very happy to see you here.”
“I’m even happier to see you here.”

Later, they sat in the small sitting room on the first floor.
Mario sat in an armchair with the cane resting beside him. Julieta sat opposite him with a cushion behind her back. Rosa had brought up tea and then disappeared into the kitchen again.
“How’s the leg?”
“It works. Not like before. But it works. The doctor says I’ll be at eighty percent in six months.”
“And the lung?”
“That’s fine now. Healed well. The leg was the worst part because it was the light pole that trapped it when the car crashed. But I’m whole again, Miss.”
“You look tired.”
“I am tired. But I’m whole.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Julieta poured him tea. Mario accepted it with his free hand.
“Miss.”
“Yes, Mario?”
“I came to ask you for something.”
“Tell me.”
“I know Mr. Ernesto has his mind in a thousand places. I know the mansion has Restrepo and his men. I know security, in general, is well covered. But I didn’t come to talk about in general. I came to talk about you.”
“Mario.”
“Let me finish. I drove Mr. Vladimir for fifteen years. I took his wife to the hospital the last time. I brought Miss Gabriela home from the clinic when she was born. And three months ago, I put him into an ambulance with a bullet in his head because I wasn’t fast enough at that traffic light. That’s what I carry, Miss. That. That I wasn’t fast enough.”
“Mario, that’s not—”
“Let me finish. I’ll tell you what I think, and then you can tell me what you think. I carry that, and I always will. I’m not asking you to take it away, because it can’t be taken away. But I’m asking for something else. I’m asking you to let me be your personal security. Yours. The baby’s when he comes. Miss Gabriela’s too whenever she’s with you. Not Mr. Vladimir’s—he’s already under a roof with guards. Yours. When you go into the garden, I go with you. When you go to the doctor, I drive, even with my leg like this. When someone rings the bell, I check first.”
“Mario.”
“I know I limp. I know I’m not the same man anymore. But let me tell you something, Miss. There isn’t a man in this country who’ll watch over you more carefully than I will. Not because of a paycheck. Because of the other debt.”
Julieta looked at him.
His eyes were full, but he refused to let anything fall. He held the teacup in one hand and the cane in the other as though those two things were the only things keeping him from collapsing out of the chair.
“Mario.”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t fail Vladimir.”
“He’ll decide that when he wakes up. Until then, let me take care of you.”
“You don’t need my permission. If you want to take care of me, then take care of me. I’m not going to argue with you. There’s no salary involved. No favor. We both accept it exactly as it is, between equals. That’s all.”
Mario nodded.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly. Starting with one thing.”
“Yes?”
“Stop calling me Miss. Call me Julieta. If you’re going to be glued to my side for the next few months, I don’t want to hear ‘Miss’ all day long.”
“That’ll be difficult.”
“Get used to it.”
“I’ll try.”
“Mario.”
“Yes, Mi— Julieta.”
“You’re going to try properly.”
Mario half-smiled. His lip trembled a little when he did.

That night, after putting Gabriela to bed, Julieta went upstairs to the master bedroom.
Lina gave her the report as she did every night.
Stable. No changes.
She checked the IV lines, adjusted Vladimir’s blanket, wished Julieta good night, and went into the room next door.
Julieta sat on the edge of the bed. She adjusted Vladimir’s hand.
“Mario came back.”
The machine beeped.
“He limps. And he feels guilty. And he offered to protect me. I accepted. If you’re aware of any of this, now you know your driver is glued to my side. That shouldn’t surprise you. That man loves you more than he realizes.”
She ran her thumb across the back of his hand.
“One more thing, Vladimir. Andrés is close. Ernesto’s closing in on him. Weeks, he said. I’m not going beyond the gate, don’t worry—I’m not an idiot. But I’m telling you so that when you wake up, you won’t be missing any context. And so you know the time you have left asleep has a limit. Because when they catch Andrés, I’m going to need you awake, Vladimir. I’m not celebrating that alone.”
She leaned over and kissed his forehead on the side without the scar.
“Good night.”
She lay down on the other side of the bed, as she had been doing for a month now, careful of her belly and the tubes, and fell asleep quickly, because by that stage of pregnancy, falling asleep quickly was the only way to get any real rest.
Outside the bedroom, in the hallway, Mario made his first patrol of the night.
Slowly.
With his cane.
But he made it.