“Well, look at this,” Rafael said loudly, his polished shoes clicking against the marble as he approached. “Life really does put people where they belong.”
Lucía met his gaze without flinching.
“Rafael,” she said simply.
Camila looked between them, confused. “Who is she?”
“My past,” Rafael replied dismissively.
Lucía’s eyes drifted back to the dress.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Strong. Elegant. Like it survived fire.”
For illustrative purposes only
Rafael laughed—sharp and cruel.
“You like it?” he sneered. “That’s cute.”
He pulled a few small bills from his wallet and tossed them casually into a nearby trash bin.
“Even if you cleaned this mall for the rest of your life,” he said, lowering his voice, “you still wouldn’t afford a single button on that dress. Class isn’t something you mop into.”
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