Rafael glanced at Bella, noticing the quiet intelligence in her eyes. There was something unsettling about the way she observed the world, as if she were assembling it like a jigsaw puzzle only she could see. He lifted his voice with effortless authority.
“Bella. Come here.”
Teresa flinched. “Mr. Cortez, please. She does not want trouble.”
“I did not ask if she wanted trouble,” Rafael answered. The words sliced like a knife. “I asked her to come here.”
Bella approached, her hands shaking around the rag. When she stood before him, Rafael reached into his blazer and produced a checkbook. He tore a page, scribbled a number, and held it between two fingers.
“One hundred thousand dollars,” he said. “This can be yours if you prove me wrong.”
Levi raised his eyebrows. “What is she supposed to do? Make the chair fly?”
Rafael leaned forward. The courtyard hushed.
“Make me walk,” he said.
A ripple of disbelief shot through the group. Gerard burst into laughter first, followed by Mason’s theatrical guffaw. Even Silas, usually quiet, smirked like he had witnessed a performance.
Teresa gasped. “Please, sir. She cannot. We are not charlatans. We clean rooms. We do not make miracles.”
Bella’s voice surprised everyone. “Miracles are just things science has not caught up to yet.”
The courtyard fell silent. Rafael studied her. “Do you even understand what you are saying?”
“Yes,” Bella replied calmly. “I understand everything you are afraid to feel. You want to get better, but wanting is not the same as trying.”
Gerard scoffed. “This is rich. A philosopher in ragged shoes.”
Rafael ignored him. “Tell me, Bella. Why should I believe that you, a child, can fix what the top surgeons in the country could not?”
Bella looked at his legs. “Because you believe they can. And you believe money can. But you do not believe you deserve to heal. So nothing works.”
Something in Rafael flinched. His jaw clenched. His fingers tightened around the check.
“Who told you that?” he asked quietly.
Bella lifted her chin. “No one had to tell me. I can feel it. Pain leaves echoes. Guilt leaves scars deeper than surgery.”
Teresa grabbed her daughter’s shoulder. “Enough. We are leaving. I will not let you be punished for speaking.”
Rafael’s voice softened for the first time. “Wait.”