After seven years of divorce, he found his ex-wife working as a cleaner, silently staring at a one-million-dollar dress behind a shop window.
Mariana bent down to pick up the bills.
Not because she needed them, but because she didn’t want them to dirty the spotless marble floor.
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.
No pleading either.
That calmness… unsettled him more than any reproach ever could.
“Still keeping up that fake dignity?” Alejandro growled, 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 contempt.
At that moment, a group of men in black suits entered the lobby.
Leading them was a gray-haired man with a commanding presence and a dignified gaze, followed by executives and members of the press.
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 turned pale.
“Mrs… Mariana?” His voice came out strangled, as if someone were gripping his throat.
Mariana nodded slightly.
She set the rag down on the cleaning cart.
Calmly removed her gloves.
An assistant immediately approached and placed an elegant white blazer over her shoulders.
In a matter of seconds, the “cleaning employee” vanished.
Standing before Alejandro was another woman:
Hair loose, posture straight, gaze deep and cold.
The gray-haired man stepped forward and announced clearly for everyone to hear:
“It is an honor to present Mrs. Mariana Ortega, founder of the brand Fénix de Fuego and the principal investor behind this exclusive collection launching tonight.”
Alejandro staggered back a step, completely undone.
The red dress adorned with rubies behind Mariana—the very one he had dismissed—bore her name’s seal.
Mariana turned toward 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 on your level.
A few minutes ago you said I would never be able to touch this dress.”
She raised her hand.
The staff opened the display case.
Mariana touched the red fabric with elegance.
The lights made the lobby seem to blaze with fire.
“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 nonstop.
Message from his secretary:
“Sir, the strategic partner has just withdrawn all investment.
They’ve signed an exclusive contract with… Mrs. Mariana Ortega.”
Before he could react, Camila yanked her arm free.
“Weren’t you supposed to become vice president? Was everything a lie?”
She turned and walked away, her heels echoing like hammer blows against Alejandro’s shattered pride.
Mariana passed by him.
She didn’t look at him.
She only left one 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, camera flashes, and murmurs, trapped in a reality he had never imagined he would face.