Not because she needed them, but because she didn’t want them to stain the pristine marble.
She carefully placed them on the edge of the trash can and said calmly,
“You should keep them. That money… you’re going to need it.”
Alejandro froze.
There was no bitterness in her voice.
No pleading.
That calmness unsettled him more than any reproach.
“Are you still acting so important?” Alejandro snarled, turning to Camila. “See? Poor, but full of pride.”
Camila laughed mockingly and clung tighter to his arm, scanning Mariana with disdain.
Just then, a group of men in black suits entered the lobby.
At their head walked a gray-haired man with an imposing presence, followed by executives and a press team.
The mall manager bowed deeply.
“Mrs. Mariana, everything is ready. The presentation will begin in three minutes.”
The entire lobby fell silent.
Alejandro went pale.
“Mrs. Mariana?” His voice caught in his throat.
Mariana nodded slightly.
She set the cloth down on the cleaning cart.
She removed her gloves.
An assistant stepped forward and draped an elegant white blazer over her shoulders.
In seconds, the “cleaning lady” was gone.
Another woman now stood before him:
Hair loose, posture straight, eyes cold and deep.
The gray-haired man announced:
“It is my honor to introduce Mrs. Mariana Ortega, founder of the ‘Phoenix of Fire’ brand and the principal investor of tonight’s exclusive collection.”
Alejandro staggered back.
The red ruby dress behind her — the one he had mocked — bore his name.
Mariana turned toward him.
And smiled.
But it was no longer the fragile smile of seven years ago.
“Seven years ago you said I wasn’t good enough.”
“A few minutes ago you said I could never touch this dress.”
She raised her hand. The display case opened.
She brushed the red fabric lightly.
The lights made the lobby seem aflame.
“What a pity,” she whispered. “Because the one who no longer has the right to touch any of this… is you.”
Alejandro’s phone began to vibrate.
A message from his secretary:
“Sir, the strategic partner has withdrawn the entire investment. They’ve signed an exclusive contract with… Ms. Mariana Ortega.”
Camila dropped his arm.
“You were supposed to be vice president. Was it all a lie?”
She turned and left, her heels striking the floor like blows against his shattered pride.
Mariana walked past him.
She didn’t look back.
Only left a final sentence behind, soft as the wind:
“Thank you… for letting me go.”
Alejandro remained standing in the center of the lobby, surrounded by luxury, flashes, and whispers, trapped in a reality he never imagined he would face.
