CHAPTER 2: THE VOICE OF HIGH SOCIETY
The voice didn’t just echo.
It commanded.
“Step away from her.”
The words cut through the cobblestone street like ice cracking over deep water.
From the end of the street, a woman appeared.
Elegant coat. Diamond earrings. Perfect posture.
She walked as if the street itself belonged to her.
Behind her followed two assistants holding designer handbags and a small dog dressed in luxury fabric.
She stopped when she saw Carlos kneeling.
And she laughed.
Not softly.
Not kindly.
But sharply—like breaking glass.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Is this what I’m seeing? A millionaire kneeling in front of a bread girl?”
The vendor girl froze behind her cart.
Flour still on her fingers.
Eyes lowered.
She didn’t speak.
The woman stepped closer, circling the cart like it was an exhibit in a cheap museum.
“You must be joking,” she said. “Carlos, you can’t seriously be lowering yourself to this.”
Carlos stood slowly.
His jaw tightened.
“Mother,” he said coldly.
That word changed the air.
The vendor girl finally understood.
This wasn’t a stranger.
This was family.
The mother smiled tightly.
“I told you,” she continued, “you need someone appropriate. Someone from our level.”
Her eyes scanned the bread girl again with disgust.
“This… this is not even a relationship. This is charity.”
The vendor girl flinched slightly.
Carlos stepped forward.
“Don’t speak about her like that.”
The mother raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? And what is she then? A future lady of the house? Don’t make me laugh.”
A pause.
Then she turned directly to the girl.
“How much does he pay you?”
Silence.
The street went still.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
The girl whispered, almost inaudible:
“I don’t take money from him.”
May you like
The mother laughed again.
“That’s worse.”
