Gerard lifted his tumbler in a toast. “To Rafael, the invincible emperor,” he said, laughter bubbling like champagne. “Even gravity couldn’t take you out completely.”
Rafael smiled thinly. He had learned to wear charm like armor. “I prefer ‘temporarily inconvenienced emperor’,” he replied. The wheelchair hummed as he shifted his weight.
Near the edge of the courtyard, a ten-year-old girl wiped rainwater from an outdoor bench. She used an old rag that soaked up more dirt than moisture. Her jeans were too short. Her sneakers had been taped together at the seams. Her hair fell in tangled waves down her back. Bella Morales. Her mother, Teresa Morales, stood nearby with cleaning supplies strapped to a cart, scrubbing patio stones until her fingernails bled.
Gerard eyed the girl with idle amusement. “Rafael,” he said, gesturing with his chin. “Is that the prodigy your staff mentioned? The one who stares like she knows all our secrets?”
Mason snorted. “Probably wondering how many zeros sit in our bank accounts. Poor thing.”
Teresa bowed her head. “She is just helping me. Please ignore her.”