Mariana's Pov

I climb the stairs, tray balanced in my hand. The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafts up into my nostrils, sweet and inviting.

I've added a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, his favorite. Reaching the door to my father in-law’s private office, I knock once, gentle.

"Are you in there, father?" I call out.

“Come,” his commanding, gruff voice echo.

I twist the door knob and the door creaks open. I peek my head through the small space, smiling. 

My father ...