—Sir, I swear it’s a misunderstanding, I’m sure the little brat got that trash from a garbage can…

But Alejandro hadn’t built an empire by being naive. He walked toward her with heavy steps, as if each footstep would crack the concrete beneath the headmistress’s feet.

When he reached her, he didn’t say another word. He raised his hand, grabbed Doña Carmela’s wrist, which was strangling her daughter’s arm, and squeezed so hard that the bones cracked. The woman let out a scream of pain and released the child instantly.

Alejandro knelt, dusting his suit, worth thousands of dollars, and took Luna. For the first time in six years, he felt his heart beat again.

The malnourished child’s body fit perfectly against his chest. The little girl’s scent—a mixture of sweat, dirt, and cheap soap—came with one unmistakable feature: Sofia’s eyes and essence.

“I’m here now, my love,” he whispered in her ear, covering her with his jacket. “No one will ever touch you again. Never.”

But the story didn’t end there. Alejandro stood up, Luna in his arms. He looked at his head of security and his team of lawyers. One glance was all it took for them to understand the order.

While the bodyguards blocked the exits and surrounded the orphanage staff, Alejandro went straight to the director’s main office, kicking the door so hard the wood splintered.

Reporters ran after him, filming live the collapse of the charitable facade. In Doña Carmela’s office, Alejandro demanded Luna’s files.

The woman, weeping and rubbing her bruised wrist, swore they didn’t exist, that the girl had been abandoned at the door. But Alejandro overturned the filing cabinets and smashed the desk until he found a hidden safe. He forced the director to open it.

What came to light was disgusting. The “San Judas Children’s Home” was not a shelter; it was a money laundering operation and an exploitation network.

The millions donated by businessmen like him ended up in Doña Carmela’s offshore accounts, while the children ate rotten scraps and were punished in dark rooms.

However, Alejandro’s world completely collapsed when, at the bottom of Luna’s documents, he found a thick envelope. It bore the wax seal of the Montenegro family. His own family.

When she opened it, the truth hit her like a head-on collision. Six years ago, her parents hadn’t just run Sofía away. When they found out she was pregnant with the Montenegro heir, they hired hitmen to hunt her down.

The “accident” in Veracruz had been an execution. Sofía’s SUV had been pushed into a ravine. Sofía d1ed protecting her baby with her own body, making sure Luna didn’t suffer a single scratch. And it was Alejandro’s own parents who paid Doña Carmela to lock the girl in this godforsaken hole, thus concealing the evidence of their atrocious crime to maintain the “purity” of their lineage.

Alejandro looked at Luna, who had fallen asleep in his arms, exhausted from crying, feeling safe for the first time in her life. Her own blood had been mutilated by her parents’ greed and the brutality of this false benefactor.

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