In the next chapter of La Promessa, the air inside the marqués’ palace turns heavier than the stone walls themselves. Esmeralda, who for months has kept her head down and her secrets close, finds herself cornered. Curro has been relentless, his questions about the mysterious jewelry store where she once worked cutting deeper with every encounter in the gardens, corridors, and dining hall. His persistence isn’t idle curiosity—he believes the truth locked inside that shop’s walls could shatter the lies that have poisoned his life.

One afternoon, in the shadowed service courtyard, Curro confronts her directly.
“Why have you avoided talking about the jewelry store since you arrived?” he demands.
Esmeralda looks down, clutching a cleaning rag, her voice low. “That part of my life is confidential… better left alone.”

But Curro’s tone hardens. He speaks of loss—his mother taken when he was a boy, his sister Hanne ripped from him, the woman who raised him, Eugenia, gone without warning. And now, he fears, he is next. His voice trembles not with weakness, but with urgency.
“The same force that took them is still alive. If I pretend it doesn’t matter, I won’t last much longer.”

Fear flickers across Esmeralda’s face. She warns him: speaking such things aloud is dangerous; the people he is chasing will not hesitate to kill. Yet Curro presses on. Finally, she slips a small, worn velvet box from her apron. Inside rests a delicate pendant with a deep blue stone and an intricate crest—an emblem of noble blood.

“Keep this,” she whispers. “Don’t let anyone see it. When the time comes, you’ll know why I gave it to you.”

Before he can question her further, Lorenzo’s voice cuts through the air, calling his name with sharp impatience. Esmeralda withdraws, warning him not to trust even Manuel or Pia, and disappears through the service exit. Curro pockets the pendant, its weight far heavier than its size.

Lorenzo arrives, smirking with venomous satisfaction. He announces that Duke Lisandro has demanded Curro’s dismissal—calling him an insolent bastard unworthy of breathing palace air. The words ignite a clash between them, escalating into a violent struggle in the corridor until Lopez intervenes, separating the two. Lorenzo hisses a final warning: “The game is ending.”

That night, as tension simmers, Esmeralda moves silently through the noble wing and knocks on Leocadia’s door. Without waiting for permission, she steps inside.
“I kept my silence,” Esmeralda says coldly. “Now I want more.”

Leocadia laughs bitterly, but the smile falters when Esmeralda reveals she’s given Curro something far more valuable than anyone suspects—the pendant. It’s tied to the jewelry store’s shadowy dealings, secret ledgers, and coded transactions. She hints at documents in the old safe—records of false initials, phantom diamonds, and noble clients who would be ruined if exposed.

Leocadia’s eyes narrow. “You have no idea the grave you’re digging.”
“Then I won’t fall alone,” Esmeralda retorts.

A noise outside the door silences them both. Someone has been listening. Leocadia flings the door open—only the empty corridor remains, scented faintly with a man’s cologne. She warns Esmeralda not to speak another word to anyone. Esmeralda leans in, her whisper like a blade: “Time is not on your side.”

The exchange ends with Leocadia shoving a bundle of cash into her hand. Esmeralda accepts but makes it clear—while she holds the one thing they fear most, she controls the rules. She departs like a shadow.

Hours later, Curro returns to his quarters and finds a sealed envelope on his bed, marked with red wax. Inside, Esmeralda’s handwriting lays out names, dates, and locations in chilling detail. Among the pages are contracts signed under false names, cash transfers, and an ancient family document bearing the marqués’ crest—hinting at an unclaimed inheritance and a rightful heir never acknowledged.

The letter begins: “If you’re reading this, I may already be dead.”

Before he can finish, soft footsteps approach. Curro hides the documents under his mattress and sits calmly, pretending to untie his boots. The door opens slightly. A tall figure in a dark cloak stands at the threshold.
“Not the best time for reading, Curro,” says a low, unfamiliar voice.

The warning lingers in the air like smoke. Whoever this stranger is, they know far too much.

And somewhere in the labyrinth of corridors above, Esmeralda prepares for her next move—knowing that with one wrong word, she could bring down Leocadia, Lisandro, and perhaps the entire house… or end up silenced forever.

The pendant in Curro’s pocket is no longer just a piece of jewelry. It is the fuse to an explosive truth—and the clock is already ticking.