Miguel approached Camila’s bedside. “Are you okay, Camila?” he asked gently. His voice was kind and reassuring, a stark contrast to the environment Ricardo had created.

Camila hesitated, then nodded slightly, though the redness on her cheek spoke otherwise. “I’m fine,” she whispered, though her eyes were pleading for help.

Miguel turned to his son, his expression hardening. “Ricardo, violence is never acceptable. I taught you better than this.”

“It was an accident, Dad,” Ricardo insisted, though his voice lacked conviction.