She thought she was cleaning without witnesses. The millionaire was watching—and what he saw changed everything.

—Thank you, sir. I enjoy keeping books in order.

Fernanda noticed. Her smile tightened. Not from jealousy—yet—but from something deeper: the fear of losing her hierarchy.

One evening, she confronted him.

—You’ve been different lately.

—You just got back. Things take time.

—You talk more to the help than to me.

—That’s not fair.

—Isn’t it? You praise her constantly.

Enrique inhaled slowly.

—She deserves respect.

Fernanda smiled thinly.

—Just remember, Enrique… kindness can confuse people who don’t know their place.

His eyes hardened.

—Everyone has a place. Respect doesn’t change that.

That was the moment Fernanda decided to reclaim control.

She planned a party—“small and tasteful,” she said. In truth, it was a performance. A chance to remind everyone exactly who she was.

Julia was asked to serve.

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