The dawn came gray, as if the sky itself was hesitant.

The dawn came gray, as if the sky itself was hesitant.

Andrés was no longer Andrés.

It was Alejandro Rivas.

He sat in front of the wooden house as the sun barely illuminated the damp fields. Laura emerged with a cup of coffee in her hands and knew, even before he spoke, that something had changed. It wasn’t his posture. It wasn’t his simple clothes. It was his gaze. She was no longer lost.

“I remember everything,” he said quietly.

Laura didn’t answer right away. She simply sat down next to him.

Alejandro told her who he was. His company, his fortune, the partners who smiled at him and conspired behind his back. The board of directors who had pressured him for years. The night of the accident. The car that cut him off on the highway. The impact. The darkness.

“They left me for dead,” he concluded. “And they’ve probably already divided everything up.”

Laura looked at the damp earth.

— So… are you going to leave?

It wasn’t a complaining question. It was simply the truth.

Alejandro looked at the house, the roof he’d repaired himself, the barn half-destroyed by the storm, the laundry drying, the muddy boots by the door. He looked at Mateo, who was playing with a stick as if it were a saber, and at Sofia, who was trying to teach the hen to stay still.

Helicopters, glass-walled offices, and lawyers ready to oblige awaited him in the city. Loud headlines awaited him: “Millionaire Returns from the Dead.” Enemies awaited him.