POV: HELENA
I arrive at Adrián’s mansion on a Friday afternoon, having coordinated my visit with military precision, because I’ve learned that in this new family configuration, spontaneity is not appreciated. Adrián’s text message was clear: “Friday at five. Dinner at six thirty. You can stay until Sunday after breakfast. Lola approved.”
The fact that my son needs someone else’s approval to invite his own mother into his home is both fascinating and troubling in equal measure.
James opens the door with his impeccable professionalism, but I notice tension in his posture that wasn’t there on my previous visits. For five years, this house ran like a well-oiled machine under Victoria’s tacit rule. Now there’s new management, and the friction of transition is obvious.
—Mrs. Valcor, what
