77

The next morning, the villa buzzed with an energy that could only mean one thing: a visitor of stature was coming. Neri was rearranging the flower vases, Alex was double-checking that the driveway was clear, and the house staff had brought out the fine china before breakfast even began.

Lea, still in her robe, was in the middle of her coffee when Rafael appeared at the doorway of the kitchen holding his phone. "She's coming," he said flatly.

Lea blinked. "Who's coming?"

Rafael looked up, deadpan. "Her Majesty."

Lea's cup froze halfway to her lips. "Your grandmother?"

Rafael nodded. "Apparently, two calls from Brent International in a single week was enough to rattle the heavens. The matriarch is on her way."

Lea groaned softly, placing the cup down. "Oh, dear Lord. I thought she'd be too busy tending to her orchids."

"She was," Rafael said, sitting across from her. "Until the school called her before they called us."

Lea's head snapped up. "They what?"

Rafael sighed. "Apparently, when Liam was enrolled, someone decided to become a 'silent board of trustee' for Brent International School."

Lea's jaw dropped. "You mean—?"

He nodded. "Yes. Lola Beatriz is a trustee. Has been since last year. She told them to call her whenever something involves Liam."

Lea's voice came out somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That woman's omnipotent."

Rafael gave a dry laugh. "That's one word for it."

By the time Doña Beatriz De Torre arrived, the staff were lined up in the foyer like soldiers awaiting inspection. Her driver opened the door to reveal the elegant matriarch in a dove-gray dress, a wide-brimmed hat, pearls gleaming at her neck. Eighty-eight and still commanding presence like a general.

"Good morning, Alex," she greeted crisply, her cane clicking lightly against the marble floor. "Where's my grandson?"

Rafael appeared from the hallway, straightening his shirt like a schoolboy caught unprepared. "Right here, Lola."

"Good," Beatriz said without breaking stride, walking past him toward the sitting room. "Then explain to me why your son is apparently the talk of Brent's administration this week."

Lea followed closely behind, whispering under her breath. "We should've hidden."

"She'd still find us," Rafael murmured back.

When they entered the living room, Liam was already sitting upright on the couch, small legs swinging nervously, hair still damp from his shower. He knew that tone — the one adults used when things were serious.

Beatriz approached him slowly, eyes sharp but kind beneath her poise. "So," she began, setting her cane down as she sat across from him. "Two calls in a week. That's impressive."

Liam swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Lola."

"Sorry for which one?" she asked coolly. "The punching or the swearing?"

Lea nearly choked on her tea. Rafael coughed to hide a laugh.

Liam fidgeted. "Both?"

Beatriz leaned back, studying him. "Do you know why I'm here, hijo?"

He shook his head.

"Because the world will always look at you as a De Torre before they see you as Liam. That's both a privilege and a burden. And as someone who's carried that name longer than most people have been alive, I will not have it dragged into schoolyard gossip."

Lea opened her mouth to defend him, but Beatriz raised a perfectly manicured hand. "That said," she continued, "I also know injustice when I see it. Your father was just like you — too smart, too headstrong, too easily provoked when someone crossed a line. Tell me, were they wrong about you?"

Liam looked confused. "Wrong?"

"Did they say something that wasn't true?"

He hesitated, then quietly said, "They said I was spoiled. That I act like I'm better. And that I'm gay."

Beatriz pursed her lips, eyes softening for just a heartbeat. "And are you?"

Liam shook his head quickly. "No. But even if I was, there's nothing wrong with that."

A small smile tugged at the corner of the old woman's lips. "Good answer."

Lea and Rafael exchanged a glance, both holding their breath.

Beatriz leaned forward slightly, her cane tapping once against the floor. "What matters, Liam, is that you never let words make you small. Not other people's, and not your own. You carry a name that commands power, but that power comes with grace. Understand?"

"Yes, Lola," he said softly.

She nodded approvingly. "Good. Then promise me you'll think before you swing your fists or your tongue again. The world will write enough stories about you without your help."

Liam gave a small, shy smile. "Okay."

Beatriz's expression softened. "That's my boy."

Then she turned to her grandson and his wife, her tone sharpening again. "Now, as for you two — I'd like to know why I had to hear about this from the school before either of you picked up a phone."

Rafael straightened. "Lola, we didn't even know—"

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," she cut in smoothly. "You were too busy raising a child who inherited both your temper and your righteousness."

Lea bit her lip to keep from laughing. Rafael sighed. "We'll do better next time."

"I expect you will," Beatriz replied, taking her tea from Neri without breaking eye contact. "Because if there's a third incident, I'll be sitting in the principal's office before you even park the car."

Later that afternoon, when the matriarch had finally left, the villa exhaled in unison.

Lea flopped onto the couch. "She terrifies me and impresses me at the same time."

Rafael chuckled, loosening his collar. "She terrifies everyone. Even presidents."

Liam peeked out from behind the staircase, eyes wide. "Is Lola mad at me?"

Lea smiled softly. "No, baby. She's proud. In her own... slightly scary way."

Rafael ruffled his son's hair. "When she says your name, it means she's paying attention. You did all right today."

Liam grinned. "So... no grounding?"

Lea and Rafael exchanged looks. Then in perfect unison, "We'll discuss that."

And as Liam laughed and ran off, Lea leaned against her husband, shaking her head. "I swear, between your grandmother and your son, this house will never know peace."

Rafael smiled faintly, wrapping an arm around her. "Maybe that's what being a De Torre means, Lei. Chaos with class."