Gabriel was nine, but the sadness in his eyes made him seem older. Two years after his mother, Mariana, died from a sudden stroke, Ricardo Alvarez’s mansion felt colder than the marble it was built from. Ricardo, a self-made logistics millionaire, dealt with grief the way he dealt with problems at work: he made a plan and pushed forward.
That afternoon, he found Gabriel alone in the garden, stacking stones by the koi pond.
“Gabriel, come here.”
Ricardo’s suit looked too sharp for the sunlight and roses. The boy walked over, already uneasy.
“I invited some people,” Ricardo said. “This house needs a woman again—someone to keep things running and help raise you. You’ll meet them today, and you’ll choose who you want as your mother.”
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