Mariana bent down to pick up the bills.

Not because she needed them, but because she didn’t want them to dirty the pristine marble.
She carefully placed them on the edge of the trash can and said in a calm voice:

“You should keep them. That money… you’re going to need it.”

Alejandro froze for a second.
There was no resentment in her tone.
Nor was there any pleading.
That calmness… made him more uncomfortable than any reproach.

“Are you still putting on that act of false dignity?” Alejandro grumbled, turning to Camila. “See? Poor, but full of pride.”

Camila let out a mocking laugh and clung tighter to Alejandro’s arm, scanning Mariana from head to toe with disdain.

At that moment, a group of men in black suits entered the lobby.
At the front was a man with gray hair, a firm presence, and a respectable gaze, followed by executives and a press team.

The mall manager bowed deeply:

“Mrs. Mariana, everything is ready. The presentation will begin in three minutes.”

The entire lobby… fell into absolute silence.

Alejandro paled.

“Mrs… Mariana?” his voice came out choked, as if someone were squeezing his throat.

Mariana nodded slightly.
She placed the rag on the cleaning cart.
She calmly removed her gloves.
An assistant immediately approached and placed an elegant white blazer over her shoulders.

In a matter of seconds, the “cleaning lady” disappeared.

In front of Alejandro now stood a different woman:
Hair down, straight posture, deep and cold gaze.

The gray-haired man stepped forward and announced in a clear voice for all to hear:

“It is an honor to present to you Mrs. Mariana Ortega, founder of the ‘Phoenix of Fire’ brand and principal investor in this exclusive collection being launched tonight.”

Alejandro took a step back, completely bewildered. The red dress with rubies behind Mariana—the same one he had scorned—bore the label of her name.

Mariana turned to him.
And smiled.

But it was no longer the fragile smile of the woman from seven years ago.

“Seven years ago you said I wasn’t good enough for you.”
“A few minutes ago you said I could never touch this dress.”

She raised her hand.
The staff opened the display case.
Mariana elegantly touched the red fabric.
The lights made the lobby seem to blaze.

“What a shame…” she whispered.
“Because the one who no longer has the right to touch any of this… is you.”

At that moment, Alejandro’s phone began to vibrate incessantly.

Message from his secretary:

“Sir, the strategic partner has just withdrawn all investment.
They have signed an exclusive contract with… Ms. Mariana Ortega.”

Before he could react, Camila abruptly let go of his arm.

“Didn’t you say you were going to be vice president? Was it all a lie?”

She turned and walked away, her heels echoing like hammer blows against Alejandro’s shattered pride.

Mariana walked past him.

She didn’t look at him.

She only left a sentence floating in the air, soft as the wind:

“Thank you… for letting me go that day.”

Alejandro stood motionless in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by luxury, flashing lights, and whispers, trapped in a reality he never imagined he would face.