—Mr. Rodrigo shouldn't go to sleep sad on purpose. Because then you have to work twice as hard.
For the first time, several employees laughed without fear. Rodrigo too.
Ignacio faced real consequences. The prosecution moved forward with the case, his accounts were frozen, and he lost his position at the corporation. It wasn't a dramatic downfall, but it was a just one: powerless, without his company, and without the respect of his family. Rodrigo didn't celebrate seeing him fall. Ignacio had been like a father to him after his own father's death, but affection couldn't be used as license to destroy others.
Months later, the mansion was still enormous, but it no longer resembled a museum. In the old library, Rodrigo placed paintings, stories, and large sheets of paper. Elena only agreed after Patricia clarified in writing that the space did not justify overtime or mandatory availability.
Sofi christened it “the colorful office”.
One Friday in December, Sofi's school organized an exhibition. Elena thought Rodrigo wouldn't go. But at 9 o'clock he appeared in the courtyard looking like a lost old man among parents carrying backpacks.
Sofi's drawing was on the wall.
A huge house. A mom in uniform. A tall man with his face painted. A stuffed dog. And a man in a suit coming out of a small door with a bag in his hand.
The teacher had written the title that Sofi dictated:
“The day we discovered the elegant thief.”
Elena covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Rodrigo stared at the drawing, his eyes moist.
"Your daughter isn't very discreet," he said.
—No—replied Elena—. Thank God.
Sofi ran towards them with yellow paint in her hand.
—Mr. Rodrigo, today it does look less gray.
He crouched down until he was at her level.
—I'm learning.
-That?
Rodrigo looked at Elena, the children, and the parents who arrived late, but arrived nonetheless.
—Don't confuse taking care of myself with shutting myself off.
Sofi smiled.
—Then we're almost there.
And that was true justice: not that a millionaire became perfect because of a little girl, but that a little girl reminded him that no one, no matter how rich, has the right to live suspecting the humble while protecting the powerful.
Because sometimes betrayal comes with a familiar name and expensive shoes. And sometimes the truth arrives in purple boots, with a cheap paintbrush, to paint yellow a face that had been hiding sadness for years.
Would you forgive Rodrigo after what he did to repair the damage, or are there lingering mistrusts that leave a mark even if justice is served?
