Patricia was charming, organized, and exceptionally good at making people like her. She had a way of speaking that made even ordinary things sound thoughtful and generous. She told me she understood what Sofia had lost and promised she would never try to replace Elena.
“I only want to be someone she can trust,” she had told me during our engagement.
I wanted to believe her.
Patricia moved into my house with her mother, Teresa, who was supposed to stay for a few weeks while recovering from a minor operation. Those weeks became months. Eventually, Patricia’s sixteen-year-old niece, Bianca, came to live with us after what Patricia described as a difficult situation with Bianca’s parents.
Suddenly, I was supporting five people instead of two.
I didn’t mind. I earned enough to provide for everyone, and I believed a larger family meant more people to love.
What I failed to understand was that, while I was driving thousands of kilometers to keep that household comfortable, the people inside it were quietly turning my daughter into an outsider.
