THE MILLIONAIRE CAME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS... THEN FOUND HIS LITTLE DAUGHTERS EATING MOLDY BREAD WHILE THE DOGS ATE ROAST CHICKEN
PART 1 — The Millionaire Came Home for Christmas...
“If they’re hungry... they should learn how to look pretty while suffering.”
Those were the first words Alejandro Santillán heard as he stepped through the side entrance of his mansion on Christmas Eve.
He froze.
The voice belonged to his wife.
Jimena.
After six months away in Monterrey, he had flown home early to surprise his five-year-old quadruplet daughters.
Valeria.
Camila.
Regina.
Sofía.
His arms were full of Christmas presents.
His suit was still soaked from the rain.
But the mansion didn't smell like Christmas.
It smelled of expensive liquor.
Music thundered through the halls.
Strangers laughed beneath crystal chandeliers.
In the middle of the chaos...
Jimena danced on the dining table, wrapped in diamonds, champagne spilling from her glass.
Alejandro barely looked at her.
Something else caught his attention.
The hallway leading to his daughters' rooms was completely dark.
His heart sank.
He hurried toward the family dining room.
Pushed open the door.
And his entire world stopped.
His four little girls sat huddled together at the far end of the table.
They wore thin nightgowns.
Their tiny bare feet were purple from the cold.
There was no Christmas dinner.
No turkey.
No presents.
Only a cracked plastic plate holding pieces of stale bread.
Several slices were covered in green mold.
The moment Valeria saw him, she tried to hide the plate.
Camila burst into tears.
Regina lowered her head.
Little Sofía crawled beneath the table in fear.
The Christmas gifts slipped from Alejandro's hands.
"My babies..."
His voice broke.
Valeria looked at him with frightened eyes.
"We're sorry, Daddy."
"We weren't going to eat much."
Alejandro dropped to his knees.
"Who gave you this?"
The girls looked at one another.
No one wanted to answer.
Finally, Valeria whispered,
"Mom Jimena said..."
"...pretty girls don't deserve second servings."
Alejandro felt his blood run cold.
He looked around the room.
Then he noticed something else.
Four empty dog bowls...
freshly washed...
May you like
sitting beside the kitchen door.
And every one of them still smelled like roasted chicken.
