PART 1
“We don’t serve people here who look like they just came out of the subway,” Fernanda said loudly, without lowering her voice.
The man who had just walked into the luxury watch store stood still by the glass door. The shop was located on Presidente Masaryk Avenue in Polanco. He wore a faded gray T-shirt, worn-out jeans, and sneakers so old that anyone would have thought he had entered the wrong place.
But he hadn’t.
That man was Mateo Herrera, owner and CEO of Grupo Herrera, one of Mexico’s most exclusive luxury watch brands. The only problem was that nobody in that branch knew it. Tired of meetings, fake dinners, and purchased smiles, he had decided to enter one of his own stores dressed like someone invisible.
He wanted to know how they treated people who didn’t look rich.
Fernanda, the most arrogant salesperson in the store, looked him up and down as if he had stained the marble floor.
“If you’re just here to ask about prices, I’ll tell you right now: they’re expensive.”
From behind another counter, Lucía looked up. She was twenty-seven years old, her hair tied back simply, with a calmness that didn’t seem fake. She put down the cloth she had been using to clean a collector’s watch and walked toward him.
“Good afternoon, sir. Welcome. Would you like me to show you any particular model?”
Mateo pointed at a watch with a rose-gold case and black leather strap.
“That one looks interesting.”
Fernanda let out a little laugh.
“That watch costs more than your car… assuming you even have one.”
Lucía ignored her. She put on white gloves, opened the display case, and began explaining the mechanism, the design’s history, the craftsmanship done in Querétaro, and the limited number of pieces available. For twenty minutes she treated him like the most important customer of the day.
Mateo watched her silently. There was no pity in her eyes. No fake politeness either. Only respect.
“I’ll take it,” he finally said.
Fernanda immediately stepped closer, eyes wide.
“Excuse me?”
Mateo reached into his back pocket. Then the front one. Then his chest pocket. He frowned.
“This can’t be happening… I think I lost my wallet.”
Silence dropped like a stone.
Fernanda burst into laughter.
“I knew it! See, Lucía? This is what happens when you try to play Mother Teresa. This man just came here to waste our time.”
Lucía took a deep breath.
“Fernanda, enough. He’s a customer.”
“A customer?” Fernanda spat. “He’s a bum. And of course you defend him because people like you recognize each other. You come from nothing too, don’t you? From those neighborhoods where people think being nice means they deserve opportunities.”
Lucía’s expression hardened, but she didn’t lower her gaze.
“Yes, I come from nothing. My mother sold tamales outside Hidalgo subway station, and my father left us debts instead of a family name. But I work, I study, and I treat people with respect. You work here just like I do. The difference is that I understand this uniform is for serving people, not humiliating them.”
Some customers turned to look. Fernanda’s face flushed red.
Mateo felt something hit his chest. No one had ever defended his dignity thinking he was poor. No one.
Lucía turned toward him.
“Don’t worry about the watch. The important thing is finding your wallet. Did you have identification cards in it?”
“Yes,” Mateo murmured.
“Then let’s go look for it. Maybe it fell when you got out of your car or somewhere on the sidewalk.”
Without expecting anything in return, Lucía asked the manager for permission, grabbed her jacket, and went outside with him. They walked along Masaryk Avenue, checking near the trees, under a bench, even beside a storm drain. Evening was beginning to fall over the city, and the air smelled like rain and gasoline.
Lucía knelt down without caring that her black pants got dirty. She turned on her phone flashlight and searched through dry leaves.
“You don’t have to do this,” Mateo said, feeling a guilt that burned inside him.
“Of course I do. Losing a wallet is serious. Money comes and goes, but replacing IDs, cards, and documents is a nightmare.”
Mateo looked at her dirt-stained hands. This was no longer a test. It was cruelty.
He walked toward the old rental car he had used for his disguise, opened the door, and pretended to check under the seat.
“Here it is,” he said, holding up the wallet. “How embarrassing. It fell inside.”
Lucía exhaled in relief and then laughed tiredly.
“Oh sir, I almost climbed into the sewer for you.”
Mateo smiled, but inside something broke.
“Let me buy you dinner to make up for it.”
“Thank you, but there’s no need. Just take better care of your things.”
Lucía returned to the store with her shirt slightly dirty and her head held high.
That night, inside his enormous mansion in Lomas de Chapultepec, Mateo reviewed Lucía Ramírez’s employee file. Mother deceased. Father missing. Started university at twenty-four. Outstanding grades. No family connections.
Mateo closed the file in shame.
He had wanted to test an employee’s heart without realizing she had spent years surviving with her own heart shattered.
And the next morning, when Fernanda saw Lucía walk in, she smiled with a cruelty that chilled the blood.
She couldn’t believe what was about to happen…
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