Just as they rounded the corner, a sleek charcoal sedan slid to a halt beside them. A suited man flung the door open, sprinting toward them with panic in his eyes.
“Mother?” His voice wavered as he rushed to her side.
The older woman tightened her hold on Mateo as if startled, then relaxed. “I am alright, Oliver. I just felt faint.”
Mateo felt the man’s gaze turn to him. “Did you help her?”
“Yes,” Mateo replied quietly. “She was alone and unwell.”
The man nodded, his expression softening. “I appreciate that. I am Cyrus Warren. May I give you a ride somewhere? You are soaked.”
Mateo shook his head. “I have an interview. I am already late.”
“Which company?”
He mentioned it without thinking, and he noticed a subtle change in Cyrus’s posture, a flicker of recognition behind his eyes.
“Let us drive you. Please.” Cyrus gestured to the sedan.
The embarrassment hit Mateo suddenly. His clothes were muddy, his shoes filthy, and the idea of sitting inside that pristine vehicle made him shrink inward. “Thank you, but I think it is better if I walk.”
Cyrus did not push him. He helped his mother into the car, but before closing the door, the older woman clasped Mateo’s hand.
“You stopped when others did not. Remember that.”
He watched them drive away, then continued running, though every step felt heavier than the last.
By the time he entered the lobby of the corporate tower, he looked like a man who had crawled out from under the storm itself. The security guard eyed him with skepticism before reluctantly allowing him through. Mateo hurried to the reception desk.
“I am here for the analyst interview. Mateo Rios,” he said, his voice strained.
The receptionist checked her screen. “I am sorry, but the manager has already moved on to the next applicant. You arrived too late.”
He swallowed, the sting of defeat clawing at his throat. “I helped someone who collapsed on the street. If I could just explain…”
“I understand,” she interrupted politely, “but the decision is final.”
He stepped outside again, numb. The rain had eased, yet the world still felt heavy. He crouched beside the newsstand and buried his face in his hands. He pulled out his phone to call his mother, but before he could dial, a message appeared.
“Mr. Rios, please return to the building. Executive Office requests your presence immediately.”
Mateo blinked at the screen. Executive Office? That could not be right.