The red dress with rubies behind Mariana—the same one he had scorned—bore his name on it.
Mariana turned to face him.
And smiled.
But it was no longer the fragile smile of the woman from seven years ago.
“Seven years ago you said I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“A few minutes ago you said I could never touch this dress.”
She raised her hand. The staff opened the display case.
Mariana touched the red fabric with grace.
The lights made the lobby seem to be ablaze.
“What a shame…” she whispered. “Because the one who no longer has the right to touch any of this… is you.”
At that moment, Alejandro’s phone began to vibrate incessantly.
Message from his secretary:
“Sir, the strategic partner has just withdrawn the entire investment. They’ve signed an exclusive contract with… Ms. Mariana Ortega.”
Before he could react, Camila abruptly released his arm.
“Weren’t you supposed to be vice president? Was it all a lie?”
She turned and left, her heels clicking like hammer blows on Alejandro’s shattered pride.
Mariana walked past him.
She didn’t look at him.
She only left a phrase hanging in the air, soft as the wind:
“Thank you… for letting go of me that day.”
Alejandro stood motionless in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by luxury, flashes, and whispers, trapped in a reality he never imagined he would face.
