Alejandro was gone for nearly twenty-four hours.

To most people, that would have meant nothing. But Lucía knew him well — he never stepped away from something he considered his. If he disappeared, it was because he was arranging something behind the scenes.

Carmen Ruiz noticed the shift first. After a quiet adjustment in Lucía’s treatment plan, the lab results began to improve. The liver values that had been climbing dangerously were now stabilizing. It wasn’t dramatic, but it directly contradicted the earlier warning that she had “no more than three days.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” the attending doctor muttered, studying the monitor. “If the damage were irreversible, we wouldn’t see this kind of response.”

Carmen and Lucía exchanged a look. The pattern was becoming clear.

Alejandro returned the next day, impeccably dressed, wearing his usual refined cologne and the carefully rehearsed expression of concern he displayed so well in public.

“How is she?” he asked at the nurses’ station.

“Stable,” Carmen answered evenly.

A slight tightening in his jaw gave him away, though he quickly masked it. Lucía caught it when he entered her room.

“Love…” he said gently, approaching her bed. “You look pale.”

Lucía kept her breathing shallow, eyes barely open.

“I’m tired,” she murmured.

He leaned closer.

“I’ve spoken to the lawyer. Just as a precaution. In case things… worsen.”

Lucía opened her eyes more fully and studied him.

“Always thinking ahead,” she said calmly.

For a brief second, his composure slipped.

“I’m just protecting what’s ours.”

“Ours?” she repeated quietly.

At that moment, Carmen entered with a tray, interrupting the tension. Alejandro stepped aside, but his glance drifted toward the IV pump. Carmen noticed immediately.

“Please don’t touch the equipment.”

“Relax,” he replied stiffly.