Matheo Santillana

I couldn't believe we were arguing again. I needed order in my house, clear rules, and someone capable of taking care of my children. She, on the other hand, seemed determined to do things her way.

—Could you explain why you decided to do something like that without consulting me?

I stared at her, trying to stay calm. I couldn't understand how someone could be so impulsive and, at the same time, make my children happier than they had been in months.

—Because your methods aren't working, Mr. Santillana. Your children need someone to listen to them, not just tell them what to do.

—I know my children perfectly.

—Oh, really? Then tell me when was the last time you sat down to talk with them without thinking about work.

His words silenced me. I hated to admit it, but he had hit the very spot where it hurt the most.

—I will not allow him to question my way of being a father.

—And I'm not going to let him tell me how to take care of the children if he doesn't take the time to learn what they need.

I took a deep breath. That woman had a way of getting under my skin like no one else. And the worst part was that, when I saw her defend my children with such certainty, I started to wonder if maybe she was right.

—Okay. But while you work in this house, you'll have to respect my rules.

She crossed her arms and held my gaze.

—And you will have to learn to listen.

I remained silent. That woman was definitely going to be trouble.