Relief flooded through me. Alexander Weiss had been my grandmother’s friend, a man of influence and integrity. Knowing he had sent someone gave me hope that I wasn’t as alone as Alberto had made me feel. I got into the limousine, the plush interior offering a stark contrast to the cold, hard pavement I’d just been standing on.

The driver—James, as he introduced himself—offered me a comforting smile and a bottle of water. “Don’t worry, Miss Clara. You’re in safe hands now,” he assured me.

As the limousine glided smoothly down the road, I allowed myself to lean back into the leather seat, the tension in my shoulders slowly easing. James began to share stories of how Mr. Weiss had helped countless people like me, those who had lost their way or had been pushed to the brink by circumstances beyond their control. His tales were filled with hope and redemption, painting a picture of a man who was as much a protector as he was a businessman.