“That thing is mine,” he said, and threw it against the wall.
Sofia burst into tears. The boy raised his foot to kick her.
He missed.
I caught his ankle in midair.
The room froze.
“If you touch her again,” I said calmly, “you’ll remember me for the rest of your life.”
Brenda lunged at me, furious.
“Let go of him, you stupid girl!”
She tried to slap me. I stopped her wrist before it reached my face and squeezed hard enough to make her whimper.
“Raise your son better,” I muttered. “You still have time to make sure he doesn’t grow up like the men in this house.”
Doña Ofelia hit me with the handle of a feather duster. Once. Twice. Three times.
I didn’t even flinch.
I yanked the handle from her hand and snapped it in two with a single pull. The crack sounded like a gunshot.
“That’s it,” I said, dropping the pieces to the floor. “From today on, there are rules here. And the first is that no one ever lays a hand on that girl again.”
That night, Sofía ate hot soup without anyone insulting her. Doña Ofelia and Brenda whispered behind closed doors. The nephew never came near again. I sat Sofía on my lap and let her fall asleep against my chest.
