The letter informed her—politely, efficiently—that her services as Lucía’s nanny would no longer be required. Her contract would end on December 24 at 11:59 p.m.

No explanation.

Elisa had read it in the hallway, her back pressed to the wall as though the words themselves had knocked the breath from her chest.

Four years.

Four years of sleepless nights.

Four years of sitting beside a bed while a little girl trembled from nightmares she couldn’t describe.

Four years of loving a child who never spoke.

And it ended with a signature.

Lucía had been mute since the night her mother died in a car accident. Doctors labeled it trauma-induced mutism. Therapists tried everything. Specialists came and left. Nothing worked.

Until Elisa arrived.

Not with pressure.

Not with fear.

But with patience.

With warmth.

With love.

Slowly, Lucía changed.

She smiled more.

She slept.

She stopped hiding.