“My dad was a security engineer,” the boy continued, walking toward the safe. “He designed protection systems for banks and companies. He taught me about codes and algorithms while he worked at home. He said safes aren’t just metal and tech. They’re psychology.”
The five businessmen watched in silence.
“What did he teach you about people?” Mateo asked despite himself.
The boy placed his hand on the cold steel, fingers tracing the keypad with eerie familiarity.
“He taught me that rich people buy expensive safes not because they need them, but to show they can. It’s about ego, not security.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Fernando muttered without conviction.
“Really?” The boy looked at him. “What do you keep in your safe, Mr. Sandoval? Something you truly can’t live without… or just expensive things you bought because you could?”
Mateo felt exposed. The boy was right. Inside were jewels he never wore, documents easily copied, cash that was nothing compared to his fortune. Nothing irreplaceable.
“My dad said people confuse price with value,” the boy went on. “You pay millions for things that aren’t worth much, and you despise people worth everything who happen to be poor.”