The Noble Squatters of La Promessa: When Luxury Becomes a Refuge for the Unwanted

In a twisted tale of aristocratic freeloaders, La Promessa is once again under siege—not by war or betrayal, but by three noblemen who have turned the estate into their personal paradise. While others labor, suffer, and strive for dignity, Lorenzo, Pelayo, and Ignacio lounge in velvet chairs, sip fine wine, and refuse to leave. Their presence has become a stain on the estate’s legacy, a parasite infestation no one seems able to cure.

And the most maddening part? No one seems capable of expelling them.

Lorenzo: The Eternal Guest with Fangs

Lorenzo Dell’Amata, the so-called military man, marched into La Promessa in March 2023 and simply… never left. They call him Conte Dracula, and not without reason. He doesn’t drink blood, but feeds off the patience, generosity, and silence of those around him. He presents himself as a hero, a war-torn veteran, but in truth, the only battles he’s fighting now are which cravat to wear to dinner and how to avoid meaningful responsibility.

He was the first of the trio to set up permanent residence at the estate, quickly discovering that the luxurious environment, filled with elegant women and a fully staffed kitchen, offered a far more comfortable life than any battlefield. His status as a brother-in-law to the Marques seems to shield him, but it doesn’t make him any more tolerable.

For a man who wears medals, his greatest achievement seems to be dodging every opportunity to grow up.

Pelayo: The Broken Hearted Ghost of Nobility

Then there’s Pelayo, or as Lady Cruz sardonically dubbed him, Il Conte Logorato—the Worn-Out Count. Once a promising figure, Pelayo has devolved into a shadow of himself. After his romantic implosion with Catalina, his public image shattered like cheap porcelain. The press hounded him, creditors circled like vultures, and his name became synonymous with disgrace.

He left for a time, but like a bad penny, he returned. Now, he floats through the halls of La Promessa like a lost soul, offering little but complaints and heavy sighs. His disheveled appearance and depressive aura only emphasize how little he belongs in this once-proud space.

Pelayo isn’t dangerous or devious. He’s just… pathetic. And that might be worse.

Ignacio: The Marble Statue with Empty Pockets

Don Ignacio Aala is the newest addition to this ignoble trio, yet he has already claimed his place as the most insufferable. A walking statue of pride and pomade, Ignacio dresses like royalty, walks like royalty, and demands to be treated like royalty—even though his finances are in absolute ruin.

Once a respected wine merchant, Ignacio’s business collapsed under the weight of war and poor decisions. His vineyards are barren, his exports have halted, and he hasn’t sold a single bottle in months. And yet, he parades around La Promessa as if he owns it, indulging in its luxuries while his sisters freeze in a crumbling mansion with only candles for warmth.

A gentleman? Maybe in posture. But not in action.

Why Won’t They Leave?

Each of these men has overstayed his welcome. What started as temporary hospitality has turned into an aristocratic squat. The estate is no longer a place of elegance and purpose; it’s a haven for washed-up nobles clinging to their lost status like shipwreck survivors to driftwood.

Even Don Alonso, ever the model of patience and diplomacy, finally snapped. In a moment that fans had waited for, he confronted Ignacio face-to-face, stripped of all pleasantries, and delivered a verbal blow that left the count stunned. It was justice, long overdue—but ultimately, insufficient. The problem remains. The three counts are still here.

So why can’t anyone get rid of them?

Is it fear of scandal? Familial obligation? Or has the estate simply grown too used to their presence—like rats you pretend not to see?

The Ugly Truth of Aristocratic Decay

La Promessa has become less of a noble estate and more of a retirement home for failed men. Where once grandeur and pride ruled, now idleness and shamelessness reign. The tragedy isn’t just that the three counts live there rent-free—it’s that they do so while others struggle to survive.

Ignacio’s sisters, for instance, live in squalor while he dines on lamb chops and fine wines. There’s no excuse for it. The contrast is painful, grotesque even, and it exposes a theme that La Promessa continues to explore: how easily dignity is abandoned when comfort is within reach.

The irony is sharp. These are men born to lead, yet they’ve become the very parasites their titles were meant to protect against.

The Audience Speaks: Time to Choose

Fans have had enough. The chatter online is fierce. Who’s the worst of the three? It’s a near-impossible question. Is it Lorenzo, the lazy military man with aristocratic entitlement? Pelayo, the heartbroken leech who doesn’t know when to bow out? Or Ignacio, the coldest of them all, living lavishly while his own family suffers?

Viewers have even started a playful game: If you had to take in one of the three, who would it be? The responses are as entertaining as they are tragic. And perhaps that’s the beauty of La Promessa—its ability to expose society’s rot through characters who are both ridiculous and real.

A New Dawn on the Horizon?

The big question looms: When will they leave? Are the writers preparing us for a cathartic eviction, or will these ghosts haunt the estate forever?

There is hope. Hints have been dropped, confrontations are escalating, and rumors suggest that the tides may soon turn. With their departure, a new chapter could begin. One with fresh characters, sincere love stories, and nobles who actually live with purpose.

But until then, La Promessa remains trapped in a cycle of indulgence and denial.

So stay tuned. The day the gates finally close behind these three lords might just be the day La Promessa reclaims its soul.

And for now, we watch. We groan. We laugh.

And we wait.