If you thought Leocadia had the servants of La Promessa firmly under her heel, think again. In this explosive chapter, an unexpected return shakes the villa to its core, dragging long-buried secrets into the light and setting the stage for a confrontation no one could have predicted.

From the moment the scene opens, the tension is palpable. Leocadia prowls the kitchen with a calculated elegance, her words honed like blades. One by one, her icy sentences slice through the resolve of the staff standing before her — a mix of indignation, fear, and disbelief flashing across their faces.

“If you think this little clown strike will go unnoticed, you’re mistaken,” she says, voice low but laced with venom. “You’re all forgiven for today. But if you’re not back at your posts tomorrow, none of you will ever set foot in this palace again.”

Her gaze lingers on each servant, scanning for weakness. María lifts her chin, her voice trembling but defiant. “Are you threatening us?”

Leocadia’s lips curl into a sharp smile. “No, dear. I’m giving you a chance. Because if you’re not at your stations tomorrow, I will personally hire new servants. And believe me — there is no shortage of people in this country willing to work for far less… and speak far less.”

The humiliation stings. Pía can’t hold back, her voice bursting with fury: “This is absurd! Not even Marquis Alonso would treat a man like a dog.”

Leocadia doesn’t flinch. “The Marquis is not here,” she says coldly. “He’s entrusted everything to Cristóbal. And Cristóbal has entrusted me to restore order — by any means necessary.”

Lope accuses her of lying. She leans in close, her eyes dangerous. “Doubt me? Go see the signed document in Alonso’s office yourself. Cristóbal has full administrative control… and Cristóbal and I understand each other very well.”

Reality sinks in. Shoulders drop. Eyes avert. The unspoken threat — destitution, hunger, shame — presses down on them. Petra breaks the silence first, tying her apron and heading to the stove. “I know that path. I’ll start dinner.” One by one, the others follow — Candela with the cleaning cloths, Simona gathering ingredients, María clearing the breakfast plates, and finally Pía, her pride stung but her will bending.

From the doorway, Leocadia crosses her arms, triumphant. “That’s how you lead,” she mutters. She leaves the kitchen, her malicious smile growing as she climbs the stairs to where Cristóbal waits, wine in hand.

“They’re all back to work,” she announces.
“I knew you’d be more efficient than Rómulo ever was,” Cristóbal replies with a smirk.

The victory feels complete — for now. But Leocadia knows the servants are wounded, not broken. Plans for further control take shape. Cristóbal lays out the next phase: María in the stables, Candela hauling firewood, Simona on laundry duty, and worst of all, Pía placed directly under Petra’s command. Then, dismissals will begin — the loudest voices silenced first.

In the basement, the work resumes, but the mood is heavy. “This isn’t La Promessa anymore,” Simona says bitterly. “Not yet,” Lope replies. “But remember what Rómulo taught us — those who know a house’s secrets can bring it down. And we know them all.”

The heat of the afternoon presses down. Cristóbal inspects the upstairs corridors with arrogant satisfaction when a murmur at the main entrance catches attention. It swells into a gasp. Servants abandon their tasks, drawn by a magnetic mix of disbelief and hope. Even Petra drops a tray.

And then they see him.

Rómulo.

Dressed in a dark coat, posture unshakable, he strides into the hall as though he had never left. The echo of his boots on marble is a drumbeat of authority. Tears fill Simona’s eyes. Lope can barely whisper: “He’s back.”

Cristóbal appears at the top of the stairs, his composure cracking. “You don’t belong here anymore. You’ve been replaced.”

But Rómulo’s voice is calm, steady. “Replacements are only valid when legitimate. And you, Cristóbal, should never have set foot in this place.”

María wipes away a tear. The servants’ eyes glitter with restrained joy. Cristóbal clings to his authority: “I have the Marquis’s permission. I act under his orders.”

Without a word, Rómulo produces a leather folder from under his arm. “Then it is the Marquis I will speak to. He deserves to know who you really are.” And with that, he heads upstairs.

In the library, Alonso rises in shock. “Where have you been? You vanished without a trace.”

“Investigating,” Rómulo replies, setting the folder down. “Something told me La Promessa was in danger. I was right.”

Inside are weeks of research — documents, letters, official records. As Alonso reads, his expression shifts from disbelief to outrage.

“This can’t be true…”
“It is,” Rómulo says gravely. “Cristóbal isn’t a butler. He’s a hired killer. He’s worked for noble families eliminating their enemies. His real name isn’t even Cristóbal. And there’s more — he’s Ángela’s father.”

Alonso freezes. “Leocadia’s daughter?”
“Yes. The secret was buried to protect their interests. But the truth is written in her eyes… and in these documents.”

Moments later, Alonso descends the stairs with Rómulo beside him. The servants gather. Leocadia’s confidence fractures as she spots them.

“Leocadia,” Alonso says, voice like iron, “care to explain why a murderer stands at your side?”

She falters, tries to control the narrative, but Ángela pulls away from her grasp, devastated. “You lied to me my whole life,” the girl cries.

Alonso’s verdict is swift: both Leocadia and Cristóbal are to leave the palace. The tension is suffocating. For the servants, hope flickers once more. But in La Promessa, every victory has a cost — and the storm has only just begun.