The billionaire made his goodbye look effortless. Emiliano Duarte stood beneath the crystal chandelier in the entrance hall of his mansion, one hand resting on the handle of his suitcase, the other gently smoothing his youngest daughter’s hair. The morning light poured through the tall windows behind him, touching the marble floor, the gold-framed mirrors, the enormous staircase his late wife had once called “too dramatic for real life.”
The front doors closed behind the black car, and for several long seconds you kept your face turned toward the back window, wearing the calm, distant smile your daughters had learned to accept. Daniela stood on the front steps, her arms crossed over her sweater, too old to cry openly, too young to hide her…
