His father humi:liated him and made him sit with the chauffeurs for being “a failure,” but he was stunned when the most powerful man in the country walked into the wedding just to greet him.

Opulence permeated every corner of the Grand Ballroom of the Imperial Hotel. It was the wedding of the year, the event that brought the city’s high society to a standstill. Crystal chandeliers, immense like clouds of diamonds, hung from vaulted ceilings, illuminating tables draped with imported silks and silver cutlery. The air smelled of expensive perfumes, exotic flowers brought that very morning from Europe, and above all, it smelled of money. Lots of money

At the center of that universe of vanity stood Don Arnulfo Mondragón. Wearing his custom-made tuxedo and holding a glass of French champagne, he strolled among the senators, industrial magnates, and retired generals, smiling with the self-satisfaction only men who believe they own the world possess. Today he was marrying off Rico, his favorite son, his pride and joy, the heir who had followed in his footsteps in business and who would multiply the family fortune.

But in the shadows of that brilliant celebration, there was a figure who stood out.

Leo Mondragón had just stepped out of an ordinary taxi at the main entrance. There was no valet parking for him, nor were there any photographers waiting to capture his arrival. While the other guests descended from armored limousines and sports cars, Leo adjusted the collar of his white guayabera. It was a simple, impeccable garment, made of cool linen, but it lacked the formal dress code the invitation required. He wasn’t wearing a gold watch or designer cufflinks. His hands, weathered by the sun and hard work, hung peacefully at his sides.

It had been ten years since Leo had set foot in that world. Ten years since the night he broke with the destiny his father had laid out for him. He remembered Don Arnulfo’s shouts echoing in the office: “The army? That’s for the down-and-out! In this family, we do business, we don’t play with toy soldiers!” Leo had left that very night with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a promise never to ask anyone for a penny again.

And he had done it.

As he crossed the threshold of the ballroom, Leo looked around for his brother. He just wanted to give him a hug, wish him happiness, and leave. He wasn’t interested in the banquet, the dancing, or the critical glances of the aunts who whispered behind their fans.

However, before he could take ten steps, a heavy hand blocked his path.

—What the hell are you doing here?