“Daddy… Alma isn’t waking up.”
The words came through the phone in a tiny, shaking voice.
Tomás stood by the window of his office tower overlooking the shining coastline of Miami. The afternoon sun reflected off yachts and glass buildings — the kind of view people spent their lives chasing.
But at that moment, he didn’t see any of it.
All he could hear was his son.
“Daddy…”
“Santiago? Why are you calling me from a strange number?”
A small pause.
Then the words that made his stomach drop.
“Daddy… Alma won’t wake up. I tried to shake her.”
Tomás gripped the phone tighter.
“What do you mean? Where is your mother?”
“She left… I think on Saturday. She said she’d come back soon.”
Another pause.
“Daddy… we finished the bread yesterday. I gave Alma the last piece.”
For a moment, the entire world seemed to stop.
Thirty-eight floors above the city, the millionaire who controlled companies, deals, and millions of dollars suddenly felt completely powerless.
His children had been alone.
Hungry.
Scared.
For days.
His chair slammed into the wall as Tomás grabbed his keys and ran out of the office.
Because somewhere in that huge city… his little boy had been trying to take care of his sister all by himself.
And now… she wasn’t waking up.
