Marisol looked at me like the answer was obvious.
“Because someone had to stand in front of them, Mr. Vance,” she said. “Their mother was gone. You were away. Who was going to protect those babies if not me? I didn’t care what she called me. I’ve been called worse. But I was not going to let that woman hurt Valeria and Sofia while I stood there and watched.
They’re not my children. But I love them like they are. And you don’t need a title to protect a child. You just need to be the person who’s there.”
I raised Marisol’s salary that day, made her position permanent, and told her she was not hired help and never had been. She was family. The footage proved it more clearly than any wedding ever could have: when it mattered, when I was gone and no one was watching, Marisol was the one who acted like these children’s parent.
