The security guards, men Alejandro had employed for years, entered with their heads bowed.
Greed trumped loyalty when Roberto showed them stacks of bills. “Sorry, boss,” one of them muttered as he roughly lifted Alejandro from the bed and placed him in an old, stiff, rusty wooden wheelchair they had brought from the basement.
The scene was heartbreaking. Alejandro, in his pajamas, was pushed toward the exit. Elena, limping from the blow, ran to find the twins, wrapped them in blankets, and followed her employer.
“And never come back!” Valeria shouted from the portico, sheltered from the rain, as she watched them being pushed out of the main gate.
The iron gate closed with a metallic clang that sounded like a final condemnation.
They were left alone in the darkness. The rain fell like curtains of ice, soaking them in seconds. The twins cried, terrified by the thunder. Alejandro, sitting in the old chair, felt the icy water seep into his bones, but inside, an inextinguishable fire began to burn.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Alejandro,” Elena said, shouting to be heard over the wind. She took off her own cheap sweater and put it over his shoulders, leaving herself in just her soaked uniform. “I won’t let you get sick. There’s a bus stop down the hill. We can take shelter there.”
Elena positioned herself behind the chair. The path was muddy and slippery. Her worn shoes had no grip, and the old chair’s wheels were stuck. But she pushed. She pushed with a superhuman strength that came not from her muscles, but from her soul. She slipped, she fell, she scraped her knees, but she got up and kept pushing, comforting the children as she went.
They finally reached the small concrete structure of the bus stop. It was dirty and covered in graffiti, but the corrugated metal roof protected them from the downpour. Elena sat the children down on the bench, giving them some chocolates she had in her pocket to calm them down, and then knelt in front of Alejandro, taking his icy hands in hers to warm them.
“Sir,” she said, looking him in the eyes, her mascara smudged and her hair plastered to her face, but more beautiful than ever in her sacrifice, “I need to tell you something. I know we might not survive this night without help, so I don’t want to keep any secrets.”
Alejandro looked at her. The moment of truth was approaching, but Elena got there first.
“Sir… I know you’re not paralyzed,” she blurted out.
Alexander’s world stopped. The thunder that rumbled in the distance seemed insignificant. “What?” he asked, forgetting to fake his raspy voice.
“I’ve known for three days,” Elena continued, speaking quickly. “I went in to clean and saw him fidgeting with his legs. I saw him looking sadly at Mrs. Valeria’s picture. I realized you were testing her. That’s why I didn’t say anything. That’s why I played along, threw away your fake medicine, and defended you. Because I knew you were looking for the truth.”
Alejandro felt a tear, this time a real one, roll down his cheek. “Why didn’t you betray me? Valeria would have paid you a fortune. You could have left, saved your mother.”
“Money from betrayal is cursed money, sir,” Elena said firmly. “Besides… there’s something else. Something horrible I discovered.”
Elena reached into her clothing and pulled out a sealed plastic bag that she had been wearing pinned to her chest. “Mrs. Valeria and Roberto… they were planning something worse. I overheard their plans. They didn’t just want your money. They wanted to sell the children.”
—What? —Alexander’s face hardened like stone.
“They have a contact on the border. An illegal orphanage. They were going to sell Mateo and Lucas tomorrow,” Elena sobbed. “That’s why I defended them with my life. Because they are angels and don’t deserve that fate.”
Alejandro took the envelope. Inside were DNA tests that Elena had salvaged from Valeria’s trash months before. Tests that confirmed Valeria had never been pregnant with her supposed deceased son, and that she planned to get rid of Alejandro’s biological twins.
The fury Alejandro felt at that moment was unlike any anger he had ever experienced.
It was cold, precise, lethal. The charade was over.
—Elena—he said, in his natural, powerful, and deep voice—. Get up.
She obeyed, confused.
Alejandro threw the wet blanket off his legs. He planted his boots firmly on the dirty ground. He gripped the edges of the rusty chair and, with one fluid, powerful movement, stood up. His height of almost two meters seemed to fill the small bus stop.
Elena put her hands to her mouth in astonishment, even though she knew his secret. Seeing him standing tall, strong, exuding power, was something else entirely.
“The game is over,” said Alexander, looking toward the hill where the lights of his mansion shone. “I know who my enemy is. And more importantly… I know who my partner is.”
Alejandro took off his suit jacket, which was still dry inside, and covered Elena with it. “We’re going back. And I’m going to clean my house.”
But before they could take a step, blinding lights sliced through the darkness. A black sports car skidded down the hill and braked in front of them. Roberto and Valeria got out, shielded by umbrellas, laughing like hyenas. Roberto was holding a pistol.
“Well, well!” Valeria shouted. “They look like drowned rats. We came because the notary says he needs a fingerprint, even if it’s by force. So… either you put your finger on it, Alejandro, or Roberto will shoot the maid.”
Roberto pointed at Elena. “No!” Alejandro shouted, sitting down abruptly in his chair so as not to reveal his trump card just yet.
“Sign!” Roberto shouted, now pointing at the crying children on the bench. “I’ll count to three! One!”
Elena, without a second thought, threw herself in front of the gun, shielding the children with her body. “Kill me!” she begged. “Don’t touch them!”
Valeria laughed and kicked Elena in the ribs. Elena fell to the ground groaning in pain, coughing in the mud.
“Two!” shouted Roberto, enjoying the power.
Alejandro saw Elena on the ground, ready to die for children who weren’t hers. He saw the terror in Mateo’s eyes. He saw pure evil in Valeria. And something inside him broke forever.
“Let go of my son, Roberto!” roared Alejandro.
The voice was so powerful that Roberto hesitated. “What did you say, vegetable?”
“I said…” Alejandro raised his head, his eyes blazing with fire, “that if you point a gun at my children again, I’ll tear your arm off.”
“Die!” Roberto pulled the trigger.
But Alejandro was faster than a bullet. He sprang from his wheelchair like a colossal spring. With a swift movement, he deflected Roberto’s arm upwards just as the gun went off, shattering a streetlamp.
Darkness enveloped them, illuminated only by flashes of lightning. In the gloom, Alejandro was a beast. With his other hand, he grabbed Roberto by the neck and lifted him off the ground like a rag doll, slamming him against the concrete wall. The gun fell to the ground.
Valeria screamed in horror. “You walk! You damned thing, you walk!”
Alejandro didn’t let go of Roberto until he saw absolute terror in his eyes, then he threw him into the mud by Elena’s feet. He turned to Valeria, walking slowly toward her in the rain.
“I gave you everything, Valeria,” he said, his calm voice more terrifying than her screams. “I gave you my home, my trust. And you tried to sell my children.”
Valeria backed up until she hit the car, trembling. “Alejandro, my love, wait… Roberto made me…”
Alejandro ignored her. He knelt beside Elena, helping her sit up. “Are you alright?” “Yes, sir…” she said, looking at him like a vengeful god.
Alejandro pulled out his waterproof, state-of-the-art cell phone. “Commissioner, this is Montemayor. Send patrol cars to my location. I’ve got two attempted murders and a massive fraud case. Oh, and get an ambulance.”
Minutes later, sirens filled the night.
While the police handcuffed a hysterical Valeria and a weeping Roberto pleading for a doctor, paramedics attended to Elena.
The sergeant approached Alejandro. “Mr. Montemayor, do you want to press charges?” “All charges, Sergeant. Let them rot in jail.”
Alejandro got into the ambulance with Elena and the children. As they drove away, he took her hand. “Tomorrow a new life begins, Elena. And you’re going to walk right in. Not as an employee. But as the owner.”
The next morning dawned with a radiant sun, washing away the sins of the previous night. But the story wasn’t over. Alejandro had one last debt to settle with fate.
While Elena recovered at the mansion—now purged of all traces of Valeria and staffed by a new, loyal team—Alejandro entered the room with a folder in his hand. His face was serious.
“Elena,” he said, “there’s something else. Something I discovered in Valeria’s secret files.”
Elena tensed up. “What’s wrong, sir?”
“You told me you lost your daughter at birth two years ago. That they told you she was stillborn.” “Yes…” Elena’s eyes filled with tears. “It was the greatest pain of my life.”
“They lied to you,” Alejandro said bluntly. “Valeria needed a baby to fake a pregnancy and keep me around. She paid the doctors at your clinic to tell you your daughter died. She took her.”
Elena stood up, trembling, feeling as if the ground were opening up beneath her. “What? No! Don’t play with that!”
“I’m not playing games. Valeria had your daughter for a few weeks, but the girl looked too much like you. She was afraid I’d get suspicious. So she got rid of her. She sent her to a rural orphanage in San Cristóbal.”
Alejandro handed her a photo. A two-year-old girl, with the same big, dark eyes as Elena, stared sadly at the camera from a crib. “Your daughter is alive, Elena. And we’re going to get her.”
The helicopter ride was a blur for Elena. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. Upon arriving at the squalid orphanage, Alejandro didn’t ask permission. He stormed in, forcing his way through bureaucratic barriers with his power and money, threatening to shut the place down if they didn’t hand over the girl “María N.”
When Elena entered the room and saw the little girl playing on the floor, time stood still. “Sol…” she whispered, the name she had always wanted to give her. “My Sol.”
The little girl looked up. The connection was immediate, visceral. Elena ran and hugged her, and the cries of mother and daughter merged into one, healing two years of wounds in an instant. Alejandro, watching the scene from the doorway, knew that this was the best deal of his life: to recover his happiness.
Six months later. It’s Christmas Eve.
The Montemayor mansion smells of pine and cinnamon. It’s no longer a cold place. There are toys on the Persian rug and laughter echoes through the hallways.
Alejandro is on the terrace, watching the snow fall. Elena goes out to find him. She’s wearing an elegant red dress, but she still has the same humble and sweet look. “The children are already asleep,” she says, hugging him from behind. “Sol didn’t want to let go of Mateo.”
Alejandro turns and takes her hands. “Elena, for years I had millions, but I was poor. Tonight, looking at this house filled with love, I feel like the richest man in the world.”
He takes out a small velvet box. “You saved my life, my dignity, and my children. You gave me a family. Elena, I can’t offer you a perfect life, but I offer you my eternal loyalty. Will you marry me?”
Elena looks at the ring, simple and beautiful. She looks at the man who went from being her boss to being her hero, the one she saved with her kindness. “Yes,” she answers without hesitation. “Yes to everything, Alejandro.”
They kiss under the moonlight, while inside the house, three children sleep safely, knowing that money can buy a house, but only love, courage, and truth can build a real home.
