The tension inside the hospital room shifted the moment Raul’s voice changed. The anger that had filled the room moments earlier was now mixed with something unfamiliar—fear. He stared at the doctor, waiting for a response, but the doctor remained calm.

Adjusting Lucia’s blanket, he spoke gently. “Mrs. Lucia, given your injuries and your pregnancy, I’m contacting social services. You and your daughters need protection.”

Raul scoffed. “Protection from what? She’s my wife.”

The doctor met his gaze. “Exactly. And in this hospital, a woman is no one’s property.”

The words landed heavily. Lucia had never seen anyone challenge Raul so directly. For years, he controlled every room he entered, often supported by his mother, Mrs. Eulalia, who always defended him in the name of family and tradition.

Moments later, Mrs. Eulalia rushed into the room. Her concern was not for Lucia but for her son.

“What did they do to Raul?” she demanded.

The doctor explained Lucia’s injuries and revealed that she was pregnant.

Instead of joy, a strange expression crossed Mrs. Eulalia’s face. She looked alarmed.

“That can’t be,” she whispered.

Raul turned sharply toward her. “Why can’t it be?”

She hesitated before replying, “This woman is devious. Who knows who the father is?”

Pain shot through Lucia’s body as she struggled to sit up.

“I have never been with another man,” she said firmly.

“Shut up!” Raul shouted.

The doctor stepped forward immediately.

“Lower your voice or I’ll call security.”

But Raul wasn’t looking at Lucia anymore. He was staring at his mother.

“Why would you say that?”

Mrs. Eulalia tightened her grip on her rosary.

“A mother knows things,” she replied.

For the first time, doubt appeared in Raul’s eyes—not toward Lucia, but toward the woman who had spent his entire life telling him what to believe.