THE MAIDS DAUGHTER:FROM RAGS TO RADIANCE

Perfect. Chapter Five will dig deep into Catalina's jealousy reaching a new peak, her father's harsh rejection of Mir

Chapter Five: The Words She Couldn't Keep

Catalina's new tutor arrived on a Monday morning with stiff shoes and round glasses. Miss Rina was polite, patient, and came with a satchel full of alphabet cards and workbook sheets. Catalina liked her well enough. But she didn't like studying—especially not when her mother kept glancing toward the window during lessons.

During spelling practice, she caught her mother sneaking off twice.

"Where is she going?" Catalina mumbled, arms folded as Miss Rina read aloud.

By the third day, Catalina followed her.

She crept down the hallway quietly, tiptoeing near the kitchen corridor until she saw it: the back door cracked open, the gentle sound of laughter drifting out.

Catalina peeked through the screen.

There, under the mango tree behind the laundry yard, sat Mira cross-legged on a wooden stool, clutching an old children's book. And beside her, smiling warmly, was Doña Isabella, pointing at the words with a delicate finger.

"That says cat," Isabella said gently.

"Cuh… ah… tuh," Mira sounded out.

"Yes, very good!"

Catalina's hands balled into fists.

That was her mother. That was supposed to be her time.

That night, she waited until her father came home. As usual, he removed his shoes silently, poured a glass of brandy, and reviewed a folder full of numbers. Catalina stood stiff in front of him.

"Papa, Mama's been wasting time on that maid girl again."

Don Ricardo barely looked up. "What?"

"She's teaching her how to read. Behind the house. Every day. She's not even teaching me anymore."

He placed the glass down sharply.

"She's doing what?"

"I said she's giving Mira lessons! Like a daughter."

Don Ricardo stood abruptly and left his study.

Later that evening, Mira had just finished folding pillowcases in the laundry area when she heard voices coming from the drawing room. The door was cracked open. She wasn't trying to listen—but the tone made her feet stop.

"Isabella," Don Ricardo's voice boomed. "You are not to teach that child anymore."

"She's just a little girl—"

"She's Luz's daughter. The dead maid's child. Not yours."

"She has no one—"

"She's not Catalina. Focus on our daughter. Stop acting like she's your own."

There was a pause.

Mira slowly backed away, but her heart was already breaking.

That night, Mira didn't eat. She returned to her tiny room, curling under her thin blanket with her locket pressed to her chest. No tears came right away. Just silence. Then slowly, her shoulders began to shake.

Not because she had been punished.

Not because she had been shouted at.

But because she had tasted something so sweet—learning to read, being seen—and it was taken from her again.

She whispered through her tears, "I didn't mean to take anyone's mama…"

The next morning, Isabella walked past the back yard with her eyes a little heavier. She didn't stop under the mango tree.

Catalina watched from her window. The space beneath her ribs didn't feel like victory.

It felt like guilt.

End of Chapter Five