**Mateo

Aside from that one “Dad” and the slap across the face, Lucia had not communicated with me at all. For days. The moment we arrived back at our mansion, Lucia had gone to her room and refused to come out.

“Lucia,” I said outside her door for what must have been the hundredth time, “please come out so we can talk about what’s bothering you.”

Silence.

“Did he hurt you?” I asked, my gut clenching. It hadn’t really unclenched ...