In just fourteen days, thirty-seven nannies had fled the Hernandez mansion, located on a hill overlooking the sea in Tijuana. Some left crying. Others left shouting that they would never return, no matter the salary.

The most recent nanny escaped with her uniform torn, green paint smeared in her hair, and terror frozen in her eyes.

«This place is hell!» she yelled at the guard as the iron gate opened. «Tell Mr. Hernandez to hire an exorcist, not a nanny!»

From his third-floor office window, Javier Hernandez watched the taxi disappear down the long, tree-lined road. At thirty-six, the founder of a tech company was worth billions of pesos, but exhaustion clung to his skin. He ran his hand over his unshaven face and looked at the framed photo on the wall.

Lucía, his wife, smiling. Their six daughters huddled around her.

«Thirty-seven in two weeks…» he murmured. «What do I do now? I can’t keep up with them anymore.»

His cell phone vibrated. It was Santiago, his assistant.

«Sir, all the nanny agencies have blacklisted the house. They say the situation is impossible… even dangerous.»

Javier exhaled slowly.

«Then there will be no more nannies.»

«There’s one more option,» Santiago added. «A cleaning lady. At least to tidy up the house while we figure out what to do.»

Javier looked at the garden: broken toys, uprooted plants, clothes strewn everywhere.

«Do it.» Anyone willing to enter this house.

—

On the other side of the city, in Otay, a twenty-five-year-old woman named Natalia Delgado was hastily pulling her curly hair into a bun. The daughter of migrants, she cleaned houses by day while studying child psychology at night.

At 5:30, her phone rang.

«We have an emergency job,» said the agency representative. «Mansion in Tijuana. Double pay. They need you today.»

Natalia looked at her worn sneakers, her old backpack, and the overdue tuition notice stuck to the refrigerator.

«Send me the address. I’ll be there.»

She had no idea she was headed to the house where no one lasted more than a day.

—

The Hernández mansion looked immaculate from the outside. Three stories. Large windows. Garden with a fountain. City view. But inside, chaos reigned. Graffiti covered the walls. Piles of junk. Toys scattered all over the floor.

The guard opened the gate, pity in his eyes.

«God be with you, miss.»

Javier received her in his office. He was nothing like the confident man who appeared in magazines.

«The house needs a deep clean,» he said. «My daughters are… going through a difficult time. I’ll pay you triple. Start today.»

«Just cleaning?» Natalia asked cautiously.

«Just cleaning,» he replied, not entirely honestly.

A thud echoed from upstairs. Then laughter.

Javier nodded.

The six girls stood on the stairs like sentinels. Camila, twelve, chin held high. Renata, ten, her hair badly cut. Isabela, nine, sharp-eyed. Julia, eight, smelling of urine. The twins Paula and Mia, six, smiling too much. And three-year-old Lola, clutching a broken doll.

«I’m Natalia,» she said calmly. «I’m here to clean.»

Silence.

«I’m not a nanny,» she added.

Camila stepped forward.

«Thirty-seven,» she said coldly. «You’re number thirty-eight.»

The twins laughed.

Natalia recognized that look. She’d had it herself after losing her sister.

«Then I’ll start in the kitchen,» she replied.

The mess was overwhelming, but the refrigerator stopped her. The photos showed a woman smiling with six girls on the beach. Another showed her frail, in a hospital bed, holding Lola.

«Lucía…» Natalia whispered.

Her throat closed. She remembered the fire that took her sister. She understood the pain.

Inside the refrigerator, she found a handwritten list: ….