Page 3 of Distrustful

Chapter 2

Trinidad Aleman is ready for work. She exits her bedroom after making sure the large window overlooking the private, walled backyard is closed and the alarm system light is activated. The soft green glow from the panel confirms everything is in order. She heads to the living room and, after grabbing her purse, slides back two bolts before turning the key twice to open the door.

"Good morning, Ms. Trinidad," Benjamin Martinez greets with a kind smile.

"Hello, Benjamin."

Nothing calms Trinidad more than encountering this man at the start of her day. His constant and silent presence serves as an anchor for her. Benjamin is her driver and also her bodyguard throughout the day, as well as being in charge of coordinating the rest of the security personnel who work for her, those who patrol her house twenty-four hours a day and a second man named Oliver who sometimes follows her and Benjamin from a distance if he deems it necessary.

Trinidad activates the alarm and locks up. Benjamin, a slim and athletic man whose hair turned gray when he passed fifty five years ago, has become something like a second father to Trinidad. His way of walking, always alert but without appearing tense, conveys a security that Trinidad has learned to value like the air she breathes. Distrustful and fearful of everyone who approaches her, Benjamin is the only person who has managed to earn her trust at all levels by never failing her in the seven years he's worked with her. Just as Trinidad sees him as something like a father, it happens to Benjamin with her, who despite having gone through three marriages, never had children and Trinidad has become a daughter to him.

"One too old," he usually tells her when they joke about it, with a certain paternal gleam in his eyes.

"Look at the bright side, you saved yourself the sleepless nights, the runny noses, the crying, and all the martyrdom of adolescence. I'm a gift," Trinidad always responds, who could hardly be his daughter considering she's forty-two years old and Benjamin fifty-five.

"To the office or do we need to stop somewhere first?" Benjamin asks, opening the car door, whose bodywork he always keeps gleaming.

Trinidad glances at him sideways as she gets in, no longer bothering to tell him she doesn't need him to open the door because she knows he'll do it anyway.

"To the office, if there are no unexpected events, we won't move from there today," Trinidad answers, while settling into the back seat.

The office is a huge complex located in an industrial park on the outskirts of Barcelona. The compound, also walled and with two wide sliding vehicle access gates, has on the left side a production factory for articulated prostheses designed by Trinidad, who holds a degree in robotic engineering. The building, with modern lines and smoked glass, rises imposingly against the sky. Dozens of articulated arms work in perfect synchronization assembling components with millimetric precision under the supervision of other engineers and, occasionally, Trinidad herself.

On the right is the second building, whose ground floor is a spacious research and development laboratory where they experiment with new materials and technologies like biometric sensors or light alloys. The air smells of metal and ozone, a mixture that Trinidad has learned to associate with innovation. Trinidad usually spends much of her day there, the other she divides between going up to the top floor where she has her office, a minimalist space dominated by windows overlooking the industrial complex, and the visits she makes to different training and rehabilitation facilities where users can learn to use their new prostheses in a safe and controlled environment, guided by specialized therapists that Trinidad has distributed in some cities.

"I'll be close if you need me," Benjamin says as soon as Trinidad enters her office.

"Thank you, Benjamin," she responds, leaving her purse on the coat rack.

The hours usually fly by for Trinidad, she immerses herself in this work that fascinates her so much and, sometimes, even forgets to eat, like today when some knocks on the door distract her and she looks toward the entrance with confusion.

"I bring energy and joy," announces Adrian Pacheco, Trinidad's personal secretary. A thirty-year-old man as efficient as he is flamboyant who manages to distract the businesswoman with his unstoppable verbosity.

Adrian raises a bag full of Asian food that permeates the office air awakening a voracious appetite in Trinidad and shows an impressive bouquet of flowers with his free hand. Trinidad's eyes travel to the clock on her computer screen, checking with surprise that it's almost four in the afternoon.

"Well," she says and raises her eyebrows, rubbing her eyes with fatigue.

"I'm here to save you from yourself," says the young man and sits across from her after handing her the bag with her favorite food and gently placing the bouquet on the other chair.

It could be said that Adrian is the second person Trinidad relates to, she doesn't have the same trust as with Benjamin, but sometimes she likes to let herself be carried away by the advice of the scatterbrain in front of her. Trinidad opens the bag and takes out some golden and crispy spring rolls, salmon sashimi, and two perfectly aligned California roll trays.

"Am I eating alone or am I sharing this with you too?" asks the businesswoman, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, I've already eaten at a decent hour like normal people," he says adjusting a blue silk tie that Trinidad finds hideous, "but I thought that, maybe, you'd want to share some California rolls with me," he adds brazenly.

Trinidad smiles at his nerve and hands him a tray, watching in amazement as he licks his lips.

"Here, cheeky."

"Thank you, boss," says Adrian crossing his legs with an elegance that always surprises Trinidad, while adjusting the chopsticks between his fingers with the precision of a surgeon.

"And what's that over there?" the engineer nods toward the bouquet.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask," Adrian claps excitedly, "they're for you, of course."

"From whom? Because I doubt they're from you as thanks for buying you food almost every day," she says while savoring a piece of salmon.

Adrian dodges the dart, or rather ignores it, and stretches an arm to grab the card after asking Trinidad's permission with his eyes.