Adrián stared at me.

—Away from me?

—Exactly.

His face darkened.

—Elena, whatever remained after paying the Shen family’s debts belongs to the Shen family.

I almost admired his confidence.

Seven years away.

Seven years without paying a single creditor.

And within twenty minutes of returning, he was already asking where the money was.

I handed him another folder.

—Read.

He opened it impatiently.

The first pages contained the sale of the mansion.

Then the warehouse.

Then the northern lands.

Then a final accounting statement.

His expression slowly changed.

—Where did this amount come from?

That was the question I had been waiting for.

The properties he had abandoned were nearly worthless seven years ago.

But the northern lands were different now.

A railway project had been approved through the region.

Their value had multiplied.

After settling every Shen family debt, paying the workers and clearing the mortgages, a considerable sum remained.

Adrián looked up.

—Where is it?

—Not in your account.

—I’m your husband.

—You remembered that very quickly.

Clara stepped forward.

—Elena, Adrián didn’t come back to fight.

I looked at her.

—Then why are you speaking for him?

She fell silent.

Adrián closed the folder.

—Transfer the remaining money to me tomorrow.

—No.

—The properties belonged to my family.

—And the debts?

He stopped.

—Those belonged to your family too.

I pointed toward the pages.

—But somehow, for seven years, they belonged only to me.

Aurora squeezed my hand.

Adrián noticed.

His expression softened.

—Fine. We can discuss the money later.

Then he looked at Aurora.

—But my daughter stays here.

I laughed.

—There won’t be a “here” in ten days.

—Then she comes with me.

Aurora immediately stepped behind me.

—No.

Adrián’s face hardened.

—She’s seven. She doesn’t decide.

—Neither do you.

He stared at me.

—I’m her father.

—On paper.

Before he could answer, someone knocked at the main door.

Three men entered.

The first was Mr. Han, the attorney who had handled the sale.

The second represented the buyer.

The third—

Adrián froze.

—Father?

Old Master Shen stood in the doorway with a cane.

Seven years earlier, everyone had told Adrián that his father had become too ill to manage family affairs.

Three years ago, the old man had disappeared from public life completely.

Adrián rushed toward him.

—Why didn’t anyone tell me you were still in the city?

Old Master Shen looked at his son for a long moment.

Then slapped the folder against his chest.

—I sent you seventeen letters.

Adrián went still.

—What?

—Seventeen.

The old man’s voice trembled with anger.

—Your wife sent twelve more.

Adrián slowly turned toward Clara.

She had gone pale.

—I never received them.

Old Master Shen laughed bitterly.

—Of course you didn’t.

He looked at Clara.

—Because every letter was sent to the address she gave us.

Clara immediately shook her head.

—Uncle Shen, there must be some misunderstanding.

—Don’t call me uncle.

The old man took another envelope from his coat.

—Three letters were returned after someone at that address signed for them.

He threw the receipts onto the table.

I picked one up.

The signature was clear.

Clara Qin.

Adrián stared at it.

—Clara?

She tightened her arms around Samuel.

—I was protecting you.

—From what?

—Your family kept demanding that you return! You had obligations abroad. Samuel was sick. I was alone—

—I had a wife giving birth!

For the first time since his return, Adrián raised his voice at her.

Samuel began to cry.

Clara immediately held him closer.

—Don’t frighten him.

Old Master Shen looked at the boy.

Something strange crossed his face.

—How old is he?

Clara hesitated.

—Six.

—His birthday?

She answered.

The old man’s hand tightened around his cane.

Then he looked at Adrián.

—And you believe he’s Professor Qin’s son?

Adrián frowned.

—He is.

Old Master Shen reached into his coat again.

This time he produced a photograph.

Professor Qin.

Clara’s late husband.

And another woman.

On the back was a date.

Old Master Shen said quietly:

—Professor Qin became infertile after an illness twelve years ago.

The courtyard fell silent.

Clara’s face lost all color.

Adrián stared at Samuel.

—What are you saying?

—I’m saying you spent seven years protecting a child whose story you never bothered to verify.

Clara backed away.

—That’s enough.

But Adrián was already looking at her.

—Who is Samuel’s father?

—Your master loved him as his own.

—That wasn’t my question.

She said nothing.

And that silence was more dangerous than an answer.

I took Aurora’s hand.

Their secrets no longer belonged to me.

—Mr. Han, please continue with the property transfer.

The attorney nodded.

—There is one final matter.

He placed another document on the table.

—The remaining proceeds from the Shen properties were not transferred to Mrs. Shen.

Adrián looked at me sharply.

—Then where are they?

Mr. Han adjusted his glasses.

—Into the employee compensation trust established by Mrs. Shen.

Adrián’s face changed.

—She gave away the money?

—Most of it.

I nodded.

The workers had stayed when everyone else fled.

They had accepted delayed wages.

They had helped me keep the businesses alive long enough to sell them properly.

They deserved more from the Shen family than Adrián did.

—And the rest? he demanded.

Mr. Han looked at me.

I answered.

—I invested my portion.

Adrián laughed once.

—Your portion?

Old Master Shen suddenly spoke.

—Yes.

Adrián turned toward him.

His father continued:

—Because the businesses you see now aren’t the businesses I left behind.

He pointed toward me.

—Your wife built new ones.

Seven years earlier, after selling my last pieces of jewelry, I had started a tiny trading operation from the back room of the northern warehouse.

At first, it was flour.

Then medicine.

Then imported machine parts.

By the fifth year, I controlled six distribution routes.

By the seventh, my company was worth more than the entire Shen estate had been when Adrián left.

Adrián stared at me.

—Why didn’t you tell me?

I couldn’t believe the question.

—Where would I send the news?

His face tightened.

I looked toward the trunks in the courtyard.

—Take whatever belongs to you and leave before the buyer arrives.

Clara suddenly spoke.

—We can’t.

Everyone turned toward her.

Adrián frowned.

—What?

Her lips trembled.

—We don’t have anywhere else to go.

He stared at her.

—I bought you a house abroad.

She looked down.

—It’s gone.

—What about the accounts?

No answer.

—Clara.

She finally whispered:

—I used them.

Adrián’s face became terrifyingly calm.

—How much?

—Almost everything.

Seven years of money.

Gone.

Now I understood the foreign trunks.

The sudden return.

The perfect timing.

They hadn’t come home because Adrián had finally fulfilled his promise.

They had come because they had run out of money.

But Old Master Shen wasn’t finished.

He looked at his son.

—Do you know why Clara convinced you to return this week?

Adrián slowly shook his head.

The old man handed him a newspaper.

On the financial page was an announcement.

My company was preparing to merge with one of the largest commercial groups in the south.

Beside the article was my photograph.

Clara had known.

Adrián looked at her.

—You saw this?

She didn’t answer.

—You knew Elena had money?

Clara’s eyes filled with tears.

—Adrián, listen to me—

He stepped away from her.

Then Samuel suddenly slipped from her arms and ran toward one of the open trunks.

A small leather folder fell from inside.

Clara’s expression changed instantly.

—Samuel, don’t touch that!

Too late.

The folder opened on the floor.

Several documents scattered across the tiles.

One stopped beside Adrián’s shoe.

He bent down.

I watched his face change as he read it.

It was a birth certificate.

Samuel Qin.

The mother’s name was Clara.

The father’s field had originally been left blank.

But clipped behind it was another document.

A private paternity report.

Adrián read the result once.

Then again.

His hands began to shake.

Clara whispered:

—Adrián, I can explain.

He slowly raised his head.

—Samuel isn’t Professor Qin’s son.

She said nothing.

His voice dropped.

—He’s my brother’s son.

Old Master Shen went completely still.

And for the first time since Adrián returned, I saw genuine fear in Clara’s eyes.

Because Adrián’s younger brother had supposedly died eight years ago.

One year before Samuel was born.