"Why do you need me to come? Why not just... hire someone? An actress, a professional. Someone who'd be better at this."
Joseph's expression darkened slightly.
"I tried that," he said quietly. "Twice. My grandmother saw through it immediately. She's... sharp. She knows when people are lying."
He paused, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup.
"She needs to believe I'm happy. That I've found someone real. Someone who cares."
"But I'm not real," Rachel said gently. "This isn't real."
Joseph met her gaze, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes.
"It's more real than anything I've tried before," he said.
Rachel didn't know how to respond to that.
They talked for another hour.
Joseph asked about Benjamín—his age, his condition, what he liked to do when he wasn't stuck in a hospital bed. Rachel found herself relaxing as she talked about her brother, about his love for football even though he couldn't play anymore, about the way he always tried to make her laugh even when he was in pain.
Joseph listened with an intensity that made her feel seen in a way she hadn't felt in years.
In turn, Rachel asked about his grandmother. Joseph's face softened when he talked about her—about how she used to sneak him churros when his parents enforced strict diets, about how she taught him to cook even though his father thought it was beneath him, about how she was the only person who never made him feel broken because of his voice.
"She sounds wonderful," Rachel said softly.
"She is," Joseph replied. "She's the only family I have that matters."
Something in the way he said it made Rachel's chest ache.
Eventually, Joseph glanced at his watch.
"I have a meeting at noon," he said reluctantly.
Rachel nodded, standing up.
"Thank you," she said again. "For everything."
Joseph stood as well, pulling out his wallet.
"I've got this," Rachel said quickly, reaching for her purse.
Joseph gave her a look that was almost amused.
"Rachel."
"Fine," she conceded, letting him pay.
They walked out of the café together, the late morning sun warming the cobblestone street.
"I'll text you details about Saturday," Joseph said. "And if you need anything before then—anything at all—call me."
"I will," Rachel promised.
They stood there for a moment, an awkward pause hanging between them.
Finally, Joseph extended his hand.
Rachel took it, and the same electric current from the bar ran through her fingers.
"See you Saturday," Joseph said quietly.
"Saturday," Rachel echoed.
He held her hand for a second longer than necessary, then let go and turned, walking toward a sleek black car parked at the curb.
Rachel watched him go, her mind spinning.
Then she pulled out her phone and dialed the hospital.
"Dr. Álvarez, por favor," she said when someone answered. "This is Rachel Martínez. I'm calling about my brother's surgery."
She paused, took a deep breath.
"I have the deposit. We can schedule the operation."
~~~~~~~~ HOSPITAL UNIVERSITARIO LA PAZ ~~~~~
2:15 PM Rachel sat beside Benjamín's bed, holding his hand gently.
The surgery was scheduled for the following morning. Eight AM. Dr. Álvarez had confirmed everything—the surgical team, the anesthesiologist, the post-op care plan.
It was happening.
Benjamín was going to be okay.
"You're quiet," Benjamín rasped, his eyes half-open.
"Just thinking," Rachel said, squeezing his hand.
"About what?"
"About how you're going to be running around annoying me again in a few weeks," she said, forcing lightness into her voice.
Benjamín smiled weakly.
"Can't wait."
Rachel's throat tightened.
"Me neither."
Benjamín's eyes drifted closed again, exhaustion pulling him under.
Rachel stayed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, listening to the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.
Tomorrow, they'd cut him open. They'd fix what was broken. They'd give him a chance.
And it was all because of a stranger who'd walked into a bar and somehow seen her when she felt invisible.
Rachel didn't believe in fate.
But sitting there, watching her brother breathe, she allowed herself to wonder.
Maybe, just maybe, the universe wasn't entirely cruel.
~~~~~~~~ STERLING TECH OFFICE ~~~~~
3:45 PM Rachel returned to work for the afternoon shift, her mind still buzzing.
She'd called in sick that morning, but she couldn't afford to miss a full day. Not when she still had rent to pay, bills to cover, a life to maintain.
The office was busy, people typing, phones ringing, the usual hum of corporate life.
Rachel slid into her desk, booted up her computer, and tried to focus.
But her mind kept drifting.
To Joseph. To the fifty thousand euros now sitting in her account. To the surgery tomorrow. To the dinner on Saturday.
"Rachel."
She looked up.
Her manager, Señora Torres, stood beside her desk, arms crossed.
"You're back," Señora Torres said, her tone clipped.
"Yes, I'm sorry about this morning. Family emergency."
"I heard," Señora Torres said. "I also heard you've been requesting a lot of advances lately."
Rachel's stomach dropped.
"I... yes. My brother is sick. I've been trying to—"
"I understand," Señora Torres interrupted. "But the company has policies. And frankly, some of the senior staff are concerned about your... reliability."
Rachel felt heat rising in her chest.
"I'm reliable," she said evenly. "I've never missed a deadline. I work overtime when needed. I—"
"I know," Señora Torres said, her expression softening slightly. "But perception matters. Especially now, with the new owner taking over."
Rachel's blood ran cold.
"The new owner?"
"Señor Delgado," Señora Torres said. "He's been reviewing all employee files. Making decisions about restructuring. I just... I wanted to give you a heads up. Keep your head down. Do good work. Don't give anyone a reason to question you."
Rachel nodded slowly, her mind racing.
Joseph owned this company.
She worked for him.
And she'd just taken fifty thousand euros from him.
Mierda.
Rachel sat frozen on her office chair. Her eyes darted to the office wall clock. She wasn't trying to tell the time—her mind was spinning through numerous thoughts over and over again.
Señora Torres looked at her, trying to understand why she was acting so strangely. Perhaps her problems had caused her mind to spiral. She took a short look at her, then walked out.
A female colleague behind Rachel noticed her staring at the wall clock.
"That won't speed up time," she said. "You should just get to work."
These words snapped her out of the trance she was in. Rachel looked back and smiled. A smile that wasn't true. She continued her work.
What if he thinks I targeted him just to collect money from him? If I had known he was my boss, I wouldn't have let him help. He must not know.
Señora Torres walked quickly to the room.
"Rachel!" Señora Torres called.
Rachel raised her head slowly.
"Come here. The boss needs café."
Rachel stood up then slowly walked to her.
Every step toward Señora Torres felt dangerous, like she might say the wrong thing and everything would fall apart.
Señora Torres looked to her right hand side. "You have gotten it?" she asked. "Give it to me." She grabbed the coffee.
She faced Rachel. " You can get back to work"
She then left the office.
A wave of cold water washed over her as she sat on her seat. She let out a breath of relief.
"I think I'm safe… for now," she whispered.
Señora reached in front of a glass room.
CEO: Joseph Delgado.
She brushed her hair back, and straightened up her shirt before walking into the office.
The office was all glass and steel, sharp lines and cold light reflecting off every surface. From the lamp to the furniture. A beautiful painting was hung on the wall. A certificate in business from Harvard was on the wall as well.
Joseph sat in the middle of the office, behind a black executive desk, going through the employee's files.
"Here is your café, Señor," she said.
"You don't have to bring it in yourself," Joseph replied.
"It's the best café in town," she added. "Call me anytime you need anything."
"Gracias, Señora Torres," he replied.
Señora Torres left the room.
Joseph flipped through several files while sipping from his cup. Under the current file he was looking through was a file labelled Rachel Martínez.
Joseph didn't notice. He closed the file and placed it in a box to his left side.