She helped a lost child, unaware that his father was a multimillionaire.

Ana smiled, relieved.

—See? Everything turned out well.

But Doña Marta kept staring at the phone, lost in thought. Something in that man’s voice had left her with a familiar feeling. Not just authority. A habit of commanding. A habit of making the world adapt to his whims.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of engines broke the stillness of the neighborhood.

It wasn’t one car. It was several.

Ana ran to the window and barely lifted the curtain. She froze.

-Grandmother…

Doña Marta stood beside him.

Three black SUVs slowly entered the narrow street of the neighborhood. They weren’t making excessive noise, but their mere presence was imposing. They stopped in front of the house. Two men in dark suits got out first, looking around. Then the door of the middle SUV opened.

A tall, broad-shouldered man, around forty years old, dressed in an immaculate dark coat, stepped out of the car. He walked unhurriedly toward the door, like someone accustomed to not waiting.

Doña Marta placed a hand on Ana’s shoulder.

—Behind me.

The door opened just a few centimeters and the cold air seeped into the room.

The man entered. His presence seemed to fill the entire space, but the first thing he did was not look at the old woman or the girl.

She looked for her son.

-Dad!

Emilio ran towards him.

The man fell to his knees before the boy even reached him and embraced him with a desperation that belied the impeccable bearing with which he had entered. For a moment, he ceased to be a powerful man and became simply a father.

« Here I am, » he murmured against the boy’s hair. « I’ve got you now. It’s over. »

Emilio clung to her neck.

—Sorry, Dad.

—No. No, son. You’re fine. That’s all that matters.

Ana watched the scene with wide eyes. She had never seen such an elegant adult cry without tears, his voice cracking, embracing someone as if the whole world depended on that embrace.

The man stood up slowly with Emilio in his arms. Then he looked at Doña Marta and Ana.

« I am Alejandro Villaseñor, » he said. « And I don’t have enough words to thank you. »

Doña Marta held his gaze. It only took her a second to recognize him. She had seen him on television, in old newspapers from the corner store, in advertisements for enormous projects that never reached her neighborhood. He was one of those businessmen everyone talked about as if he were more of an idea than a person.

But at home, at that moment, he was just the father of the child who had knocked on his door.

« Your son was safe here, » she replied. « He ate, charged his phone, and that’s it. »

The man lowered Emilio and looked at Ana.

—So you were the first one to open.

The girl shrugged.

—I just opened the door.