I smiled back. “That’s why I’m asking you not to speak like that again—to staff, guests, or anyone you think is beneath you.”
Her expression changed. “Excuse me?”
“And I’ll also be speaking with management about how this event is being handled.”
She laughed. “You? Talk to the manager?”
At that moment, Don Emilio—the hotel’s general manager—approached. He had once worked with my grandfather before working with me.
“Mrs. Valeria,” he said respectfully. “Is everything alright?”
Silence dropped instantly.
Daniela blinked. “Mrs…?”
Don Emilio looked at me. “Would you like us to step in?”
I took a breath. “Not yet. I want to speak with my brother first.”
Daniela’s face drained of color. “What’s happening?”
I looked straight at her. “The ‘country girl’ you insulted owns this hotel.”
For the first time that night, she had no response.
Back in the ballroom, Andrés noticed my expression and came over.
“What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk.”
Daniela tried to interrupt. “She’s exaggerating—”
“No,” I said calmly. “Not this time.”
Andrés finally looked at me—really looked.
“Daniela called me a ‘smelly country girl.’ And that wasn’t the only disrespect tonight.”
His face hardened. “Daniela…”
She raised her hands. “It was a joke. She’s too sensitive.”
That word again.
Whenever someone avoids responsibility, they blame the one they hurt.
“I’m not sensitive,” I said. “I’m aware.”
Then I turned to Andrés.
“I don’t need you to defend me because I have money. I need to know if you’d defend me if I had nothing.”
He looked down.
That silence hurt more than her words.
Daniela forced a smile. “This is ridiculous. Andrés, say something.”
He lifted his gaze slowly.
“Yes. I will.”
She relaxed—expecting support.
But he stepped toward me.
“My sister grew up with me,” he said. “When we had nothing, she worked after school to help the family. When Dad got sick, she helped pay for my education. She never made us feel poor, even when we were.”
The room grew quiet.
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