That answer triggered another round of laughter, louder this time, one man already lifting his phone to capture what he clearly expected to be humiliation preserved as entertainment. What none of them expected was that the girl would not plead.
Instead, Nina looked at the wheelchair. She noticed the smooth design, the advanced controls, the way it gleamed like a symbol rather than a necessity, and then she raised her eyes back to the man seated within it.
“If you believe it cannot happen,” she asked calmly, “why are you offering the money at all?”
The courtyard fell silent so abruptly that even the fountain behind them seemed intrusive. The man’s smile faltered. Because the truth had slipped out before anyone could stop it. This was never generosity. It was mockery disguised as confidence. A public display meant to remind everyone present that power belonged to those who could afford to laugh at impossibility.
Lucia took a step forward, panic finally breaking through her restraint.
“Please,” she whispered. “We are leaving. My daughter will not touch anything. I am sorry.”