Years later.

Sunlight filtered through the glass windows of the towering skyscraper, bathing the boardroom in a golden hue that seemed to pay homage to the figure of Alejandro Valente.

Seated at the head of the long, polished table, with his posture erect and his piercing gaze fixed on the projected charts and figures, he dominated the meeting effortlessly; his mere presence was synonymous with authority and control.

His fingers tapped lightly on the wood in an impatient rhythm, each tap an echo of his analytical mind dissecting strategies and forecasts.

The attendees, captive to his aura of power, followed every word, every deliberate pause with reverent attention. Alejandro, always immersed in numbers and ambition, allowed nothing to disrupt his concentration.

But then, a discreet yet persistent sound broke the silence of the moment as his phone vibrated on the table. The movement was minimal, almost imperceptible, but enough to pull a fraction of a second of his attention away.

With a smooth, controlled motion, Alejandro picked up the device. His thumb slid across the illuminated screen and he brought the phone to his ear, his expression growing even more severe, if possible.

"Mr. Valente," a formal, direct female voice resonated on the other end. "I am calling to inform you that the adoption process has been finalized. You may go to the orphanage to pick up the girl and take her home."

Time seemed to suspend as the words settled into his consciousness. An unexpected wave of emotion crossed the frozen surface of his usual expression, and a faint smile touched his lips, but only for a fleeting instant. No one in the room could have imagined the internal storm those simple words had unleashed within the ruthless Alejandro Valente.

"Understood," he said, his voice a reflection of the composure his face had quickly regained. "I will be there."

With those words, he ended the call, placing the phone back on the table with precise care.

"The meeting is suspended," he declared without further explanation, rising and walking toward the exit.

Alejandro did not spare a single glance for his associates, let alone offer explanations.

He immediately left the building and headed to the orphanage. Upon arrival, the man determinedly crossed the threshold of the building, which radiated more warmth than any boardroom he had ever set foot in.

His eyes immediately searched through the faces until he found her: little Anaís, a spark of life amidst the worn-down walls.

Since that day when he had gone looking for a child to adopt and their eyes met, Alejandro had been captivated by her sharpness and intelligence—an astonishing trait in a deaf-mute child.

Approaching her with calculated steps, he observed how Anaís, with a spontaneous gesture of uncertainty, took a caregiver's hand and held it tightly.

"You are coming home with me. From now on, I am your father. Don't be afraid," he said in a gentle tone, gesturing with his hands.

Her gaze, however, transcended the barrier of fear; the girl's lead-gray eyes shone, flooded with curiosity and longing.

"What is a father? Why can't I go to my mother's house instead?"

The question flowed from Anaís's small hands in a silent language, yet clear as crystal.

Alejandro, who had spent endless nights memorizing the meaning of those agile movements, leaned down toward her, his severe expression softening in an attempt to convey trust.

"Father," he articulated carefully, hoping she would read his lips as he mirrored the sign, "is someone who takes care of you, who sees a princess in you, and wants to make all your dreams and wishes come true."

The idea of being that protective figure for the girl awakened a disconcerting sensation in him, a warmth that slowly dismantled his habitual coldness.

It was then that the little girl, processing his words, showed a firm resolve in her gaze and signed with determination:

"Then, alright, Father. My first wish is for you to help me find my mother."

The request, so innocent and yet so complex, hit Alejandro like a heavy blow to the stomach, knocking all the air out of him. He felt his world of strategies waver before that petition.

"Little one... I don't know her. I can't do that," Alejandro began, moving his fingers.

The truth was that he did not want to do it; he did not agree with searching for a woman who had not cared about abandoning her daughter at an orphanage. Yet, he did not dare tell her no, wanting to avoid disappointing her.

Anaís furrowed her brow, her eyes shining with a mixture of disappointment and determination. Her hands moved rapidly, forming words that conveyed her frustration.

"But you are my father. Fathers can do anything," she signed, "that's what you just told me."

Alejandro felt a pang of guilt. He had spent years building an image of power and invincibility in the business world, and now, in front of this little girl, he felt completely defenseless. It was unbelievable.

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. His fingers moved carefully, attempting to explain a complex reality to an innocent mind.

"Sometimes, even fathers cannot do everything. But I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy."

The girl stared at him, her eyes searching his face as if looking for the truth behind his words. After a moment that seemed eternal, she signed:

"That doesn't mean you're going to find her. So, if you don't want to find my mother, I don't want you as my father."

She delivered her verdict with her chin held high, her eyes sparkling with anger.