Isabella frowned. The name sounded familiar: real estate developments, hotel technology, clean energy, international investments. A company that in less than ten years had exploded in popularity like few others in Mexico.
“The young millionaire from Monterrey?” a partner asked, approaching. “They say he’s worth more than nine hundred and fifty million.”
—And growing —replied his father with a rehearsed smile.
Isabella barely heard the number.
Cruz.
He felt something strange, almost ridiculous, rise up his chest.
No. Impossible.
At ten past nine, the main entrance opened.
First came assistants, then discreet security, followed by a tall man in a dark gray suit, with a straight back and an unusual calmness, the kind that doesn’t need to prove anything. He looked to be about thirty-five. Tanned from the sun, with a firm jaw and a serene gaze.
The entire room turned towards him.
Don Ricardo advanced with both hands outstretched.
—Mr. Cruz, it’s an honor…
The man shook her hand for barely a second.
Then I looked around.
He searched among a hundred faces like someone who has known for years exactly who he is coming to see.
His eyes stopped on Isabella.
She stopped breathing.
Because he was apparently just like that hungry child when he received half a cake for the first time.
Mateo walked straight towards her.
The entire room watched as the most sought-after investor of the night ignored politicians, partners, and photographers to stop in front of the owner’s daughter.
“It took me a little longer than promised,” he said quietly.
Isabella felt her hands tremble.
—Mateo…
He took something out of the inside pocket of his jacket.
A small silver bracelet, worn by the years.
The missing half.
—I told you I would come back when I could stand in front of you and no longer be the hungry child behind the fence.
Isabella’s eyes filled with tears in the middle of the most elegant room in the city.
Nobody understood anything.
Don Ricardo least of all.
“Do you know each other?” he asked stiffly.
Mateo turned towards him with impeccable politeness.
—Yes, Mr. Montes. Your daughter fed me for months when I had no home, no family, and no reason to believe in anyone.
The silence was absolute.
The partners looked at Ricardo. The journalists sensed a story. Isabella couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Matthew continued:
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