“Slowly,” she smiled. “There’s no rush.”
The woman let out a small, grateful laugh.
“Thank you, daughter.”
The Man Who Was Watching
A Son Who Had Forgotten Something
At the far end of the restaurant, near a column, a man had been watching everything.
He had ordered an espresso fifteen minutes earlier. It had gone cold.
His name was Alejandro Castañeda.
Forty-one years old. Owner of industrial parks, boutique hotels, and companies across the Bajío region. The press called him brilliant. Employees called him efficient. Rivals called him ruthless.
No one — not even himself — would have called him sentimental.
Until that moment.
The woman Valeria was helping was his mother: Doña Mercedes Salgado.
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