He was still breathing.
And without asking who he was, without knowing where he came from, and without stopping to wonder what trouble he might bring, she dragged him inside.
Because whatever else he was…
she couldn’t leave him there to die.
She laid him in the only spare bed she had, cleaned his wounds with warm water and old cloths, and stayed awake through the night listening to him drift in and out of restless sleep.
When he woke, he didn’t know his name.
He didn’t know where he was.
He didn’t know who he had been.
He didn’t know why his head felt like it had been split open from the inside.
All he knew was emptiness.
So Laura gave him a name.
Andrés.
It wasn’t who he really was.
It was just something human to call him until the rest came back.
Days passed, and little by little, Andrés got stronger.
He carried water.
Fixed broken fences.
Helped patch the roof.
Did whatever he could to make himself useful.
THE BILLIONAIRE THEY BURIED CAME BACK WITH MUD ON HIS BOOTS… AND HAD TO CHOOSE BETWEEN HIS EMPIRE AND THE BROKEN LITTLE FAMILY THAT TAUGHT HIM HOW TO LIVE
