His phone vibrated, interrupting his thoughts. It was Claudia, his assistant, reminding him of the dinner with the Japanese investors. With a suddenness that surprised even him, Eduardo canceled everything. “The deal is done, Claudia. I deserve a night to myself,” he snapped, ignoring her protests about corporate etiquette. He hung up and turned the wheel toward University City. He had no desire to attend the graduation, but his public image demanded it. His foundation funded the scholarships, and the rector had insisted his presence was vital for the photo op—for tomorrow’s headlines.
Upon arrival, the protocol was the same as always: reverential greetings, practiced smiles, and handshakes that sought his influence rather than his friendship. Rector Belmonte led him to the front row of the auditorium, a place of honor reserved for those who paid the bills for other people’s dreams. Eduardo sat down, tuning out the opening speech, and let his gaze wander over the sea of caps and gowns, over the faces of proud parents wiping away tears. He wondered, with a sharp pang of bitterness, what it would feel like to have someone to cry for out of pride.
And then, it happened.