The surgery lasted six terrifying hours.
When the doctor said Alice would be fine, Alexandre cried.
For the first time, he felt truly rich.
Without his company, assets frozen by lawsuits, he sold his luxury properties.
They moved to an old house on the outskirts.
He learned to fix pipes. Paint walls. Plant a garden.
One year later—
A Sunday afternoon.
Barbecue smoke in the backyard.
Alexandre in jeans and a charcoal-stained T-shirt flipping burgers.
No champagne.
Just soda, potato salad, and laughter.
Manuela chased their adopted dog.
Alice, cheeks rosy and healthy, drew on a blanket.
Beatriz stepped outside with glasses.
“You look tired,” she said softly.
“I am,” he smiled. “Garage roof still leaks. Not sure how I’ll pay tuition if I don’t land that consulting contract tomorrow.”
She leaned on his shoulder.
“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
“Daddy! Look!” Alice shouted.
He walked over.
A drawing of a big figure holding hands with two smaller ones under a bright yellow sun.
“It’s perfect, sweetheart.”
As the sun set golden over their modest yard, Alexandre felt something he had never felt in his penthouse overlooking the city.
Peace.
He had lost his fortune.
He had lost his status.