His father humi:liated him and made him sit with the chauffeurs for being “a failure,” but he was stunned when the most powerful man in the country walked into the wedding just to greet him.

As he crossed the threshold of the ballroom, Leo looked around for his brother. He just wanted to give him a hug, wish him happiness, and leave. He wasn’t interested in the banquet, the dancing, or the critical glances of the aunts who whispered behind their fans.

However, before he could take ten steps, a heavy hand blocked his path.

—What the hell are you doing here?

Don Arnulfo’s voice was a venomous whisper, low enough not to alert nearby guests, but loud enough to cut like a knife.

Leo stopped and looked into his father’s eyes. They were the same as always: cold, calculating, disappointed.

—Good evening, Dad. I came to Rico’s wedding. He’s my brother.

Don Arnulfo let out a dry, humorless laugh as he scanned his son from head to toe with a visible grimace of disgust.

“Like this? Dressed like a peasant?” the patriarch snapped, discreetly pointing at the guayabera. “Look at you, Leonardo. You’re a disgrace. There are important people here. Ministers, international partners, the country’s elite. And you show up like this? You look like one of my guests’ chauffeurs.”