“Sir, I was told to let you through immediately,” the guard said, avoiding eye contact as if he suddenly realized he had misinterpreted someone far more important than he initially thought.
Luis nodded silently, entering the lobby as the automatic doors closed behind him with a dull thud that felt like sealing destiny itself in motion.
The receptionist who had previously dismissed him with cold indifference now stood up abruptly, her face pale and her hands slightly trembling as she gestured towards the elevator.
“Mr. Herrera, the General Director is waiting for you on the twentieth floor,” he said, his voice devoid of arrogance and replaced by something dangerously close to nervousness.
Luis entered the elevator, smelling the metallic scent of adrenaline mingling with the faint perfume of the previous occupants, creating an atmosphere that was both suffocating and electrifying as the doors closed.
As the elevator ascended, she watched the floor numbers rise, each sound echoing in her body like the ticking of fate moving faster than her thoughts could follow.
When the elevator finally stopped on the twentieth floor, the doors opened to reveal a hallway covered in thick carpets, gilded details, and immaculate walls that contrasted sharply with her soaked clothes and trembling hands.
A tall assistant approached her quickly, her heels clicking on the polished floor with a precise rhythm, her expression a mixture of urgency and carefully contained curiosity.
“Mr. Herrera, please follow me,” he said, leading him down the hall toward a huge wooden door engraved with the name ARTURO DE LUNA, GENERAL DIRECTOR.
Luis froze when he saw the name, feeling the blood drain from his face as reality violently collided with the memory of the desperate man in the rain helping his mother minutes before.
