After dealing with the master builder, Francisco returned to the estate. At the treasury, two servants guarded the entrance. Upon seeing him, they saluted and let him pass. Inside, Francisco heard the sound of someone exercising. It was Oscar. Military men often kept themselves fit, and Oscar was no exception.
"Hey, boy—you're back! I haven't seen you in the last four months," Oscar said excitedly. If Francisco hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that this same man had once carried a sword wound through his torso.
"It seems Grandmother María's treatment wasn't so bad after all," Francisco replied, examining the scar on Oscar's chest with curiosity.
"That's right. Most of the Pijao remedies were made for soldiers. If I'm not wrong, they were a tribe of warriors, so naturally, much of Grandmother María's knowledge dealt with wounds." He grimaced at the memory. "Still, it was an awful treatment. I don't know how they endured it… Anyway, what brings you here?" Oscar asked, shifting the topic.
"Well, you've spent four months here, and we're starting to attract unwanted attention, especially after the party. The Lozano and Alvarez families told me something troubling—apparently, a lot of Antioquía's high-class families are watching us closely," Francisco explained, recalling the warning Mauricio had given him during their meeting.
"So, you're kicking me out," Oscar said dramatically, pressing his hand to his chest. "I'm hurt."
"I'm sorry," Francisco said sincerely, "but I'm about to start dealings with the Lozano and Alvarez families, and I'm not sure where they stand on the liberal question. I'm also certain they're already spying on my household. The last thing I need is for either of those powerful families to gain leverage over me through you."
"Don't worry. I was already planning to leave," Oscar said, softening when he saw the genuine guilt on Francisco's face. "I'll go this weekend at night. Grandmother María says my treatment is nearly done, and all I need now is rest and exercise to regain mobility. After three months in bed, the body weakens." He grinned.
"That's good. I truly am sorry to send you away, but you know my family always comes first in my decisions."
"No problem." Oscar shrugged, then his eyes lit up. "By the way, you once asked me about smugglers. Are you still interested?"
"That's right—I am. Why?" Francisco asked, puzzled.
"After this, I'll be going to Bogotá to speak with my superiors. I can talk to the smugglers as well, and if you'd like, I could arrange a meeting with them."
"That may be useful… but I don't know when I'll be able to go to Bogotá. You know my father was exiled, and unless it's strictly for business, he doesn't set foot there," Francisco replied after some thought.
"Then let's do this: you know Plaza Mayor?" Oscar asked. "At the Picota, there's a loose stone. You can place your message inside a cane tube, seal it with wax to protect it from water, and leave it under the stone. Be careful, though—soldiers patrol the area. Either I or someone from the organization will retrieve it and help arrange the meeting."
"Really? That would be extremely helpful. Thank you."
"No problem. I hear you've discovered a new material?" Oscar asked suddenly.
"That's right. Stronger than lime, more water-resistant, and faster to dry. It will revolutionize construction," Francisco said proudly. Even though Roman cement was not his invention, he had worked tirelessly to improve it. Deep down, he felt it was his own creation.
"Really?" Oscar's eyes widened. "If that's true, you might be able to strike deals with the organization. They're constantly building hideouts and stockpiles for a possible rebellion. If your material is as useful as you claim, they'll want plenty of it."
"Hmm… Could that get me into trouble with the viceroy? The last thing I want is for my family to become enemies of the Crown just for money," Francisco asked cautiously.
"Don't worry. We have ways of buying without drawing suspicion. I mean, we even purchase weapons from the Crown itself—and until now, they don't have a clue how we get them." Oscar chuckled.
"That's fine, then," Francisco said. He headed toward the door, but Oscar called out after him.
"Listen, boy—someday you'll have to take a side. Stay neutral too long, and you'll become everyone's enemy."
"I know. That's why I'm trying to make a fortune and raise my own soldiers. That way, anyone who wants to threaten my family will have to think twice before acting." Francisco's voice carried a sharp edge.
"Don't worry, kid. Even if the organization decided to target you, I'd vouch for you and your family. I remember the debt I owe you."
"I know. But I won't abandon my intentions," Francisco replied firmly, ignoring Oscar's expression as he left.
Oscar remained speechless for a moment, watching him go. "This boy has more ambition than I thought. I need to recommend him to the organization… Making him an enemy would be a mistake," he muttered, returning to his exercises.
Meanwhile, Francisco went to look for Catalina. He found her at her father's office, working tirelessly over documents. She had fallen asleep at the desk. The sight distressed him.
"If I didn't spend so much money, she wouldn't have to work herself this hard…" he murmured. Calling for a maid, he carefully moved Catalina to a sofa, covered her with a blanket, and then sat at the desk himself.
Looking through the documents, he realized she had asked his father for loans to fund construction of the new factory. Expenses were neatly recorded, profits clearly marked—but still at zero. The forge wasn't built yet, the alambique was still at blueprint stage, and although Roman cement was already invented, all production was going into the new factory itself. Until then, nothing could be sold.
Francisco sighed. His ambitions outpaced his capabilities. If he had started with cement alone, they could already be profiting and later branching into other industries. Instead, Catalina was bearing the weight of debt on her shoulders.
He looked at her sleeping form, and a chill crossed his heart. What would my life be like without her? Or worse—if I had been born in a simple mestizo family? God, I must thank You for the luck of being born into privilege and for giving me her.
He immersed himself in the paperwork, signing where necessary, correcting where needed. Hours passed. Two hours later, Catalina stirred awake.
"What are you doing?" she asked groggily.
"Helping you with the documents," Francisco answered without raising his head.
"Woah. Señor Francisco, philosopher of nature, doing menial work with us common folk?" she teased.
Francisco smiled. "Sometimes even I must do plebeian jobs."
She rolled her eyes. "So, what do you think?" she asked seriously.
"I think I've been immature. Seeing these documents… I realize how much you've struggled while I ignored the situation. If I had focused on cement first, most of our problems would already be solved. With profits from the cement factory, I could have started the alcohol business easily. But my ambition led us into debt. Without you, I'd never accomplish anything."
"It's good that you know," Catalina said with a warm smile. "So how will you pay me back?" she added playfully.
"I can only give you my heart," Francisco said.
"Bah, who wants your heart?" she teased, blushing.
"I'm a little scared, you know…" Catalina said softly. "Scared that one day you'll leave me behind."
"Why would I?" Francisco asked, startled.
"Because even if I try not to think about it, bloodlines matter. I fear that ten or twenty years from now, you'll want a wife of better lineage—a Spanish woman—and leave me." Her voice was heavy with sadness.
Seeing her downcast, Francisco pulled her close and hugged her tightly.
"Honestly, you give me more credit than I deserve. I may love experimenting, but in many ways I'm a complete mess. Especially with business. You, on the other hand, are brilliant with it. If anyone should worry, it's me—worried that one day you'll leave me for a man who treats you like a princess."
Looking into his eyes, she saw he wasn't lying. She hugged him back, and together they remained in each other's arms until sleep overtook them once more.