“Come closer, child,” Mateo commanded with an imperious gesture. The boy looked toward his mother, who nodded almost imperceptibly despite the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks. He walked forward with small steps, his bare feet leaving dirt marks on the Italian marble, which cost more per square meter than everything his family owned.
“Can you read?” Mateo asked, crouching down to the boy’s eye level. “Yes, sir,” the boy replied quietly but clearly. “And can you count to 100?” “Yes, sir. Perfect.” Mateo straightened up with a smile that made several of his associates chuckle in anticipation. “So, you understand what 100 million dollars means, right?” The boy nodded slowly.
“Tell me in your own words, Mateo,” she insisted, crossing her arms. “What is 100 million dollars to you?” The boy swallowed, his eyes briefly shifting to his mother before he answered. “It’s more money than we’ll ever see in our entire lives.” “Exactly.” Mateo clapped his hands as if the boy had just gotten the answer right on a test.
“It’s more money than you, your mother, your children, and your children’s children will ever see. It’s the kind of money that separates people like me from people like you. Mateo, you’re being cruel, even by your standards,” commented Fernando Silva, a 57-year-old investor, though his smile indicated he was enjoying the spectacle. “It’s not cruelty, Fernando, it’s education.”
“Mateo answered without taking his eyes off the child. “I’m teaching him a valuable lesson about the real world. Some are born to serve, others to be served. Some clean, others make a mess knowing that someone else will clean it up.” He turned to Elena, who was desperately trying to make herself invisible against the wall.
“Your mother, for example, do you know how much she earns cleaning toilets?” The boy shook his head. “Tell him, Elena.” Mateo ordered with calculated cruelty. “Tell your son how much your dignity is worth in the labor market.” Elena opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Tears now fell like silent waterfalls, her body trembling with sobs she tried to stifle.
“You don’t want to tell her?” Mateo pressed, relishing every second of the psychological torture. “Fine. I’ll tell her, ‘Your mom earns in a whole month what I spend on one dinner with my business partners.’ Isn’t it fascinating how the world works? This is better than TV.” Gabriel laughed, pulling out his phone. “We should be recording this.” “I already am.” Leonardo flashed his device with a sly grin.
This is going straight to our private group chat. The guys at the club are going to die laughing. The boy watched the whole scene with an expression that was gradually changing. The initial embarrassment was being replaced by something different, something more dangerous, a cold, calculated rage that glowed in his eyes like burning coals. But let’s get back to our game.
Mateo turned his attention back to the safe, patting the metal as if it were a prized pet. “This beauty is a Swisstech Titanium, imported straight from Geneva. Do you know how much it cost?” The boy shook his head. “3 million dollars.” Mateo let the number hang in the air. “The safe alone cost more than your mother will earn in 100 years cleaning my toilets.”
It has military-grade technology, biometric scanners, and codes that change every hour. It’s absolutely impossible to open without the correct combination. So why are you offering money for something impossible? the boy asked gently. The question took Mateo by surprise. For a moment, his smile faltered.
“What did you say? If it’s impossible to open the safe, then there’s no risk of me having to pay the 100 million,” the boy repeated with simple but devastating logic. “So, it’s not a real offer, it’s just a game to make fun of us.” The silence that followed was different from the previous ones. The businessmen exchanged uncomfortable glances.
The boy had just exposed the fundamental cruelty of Mateo’s game with brutal clarity. Just look at him. Rodrigo laughed, but it sounded forced. The boy has a brain after all. A brain is useless without education. Mateo regained his composure, although something in his voice had lost its strength. And education costs money that people like you don’t have. My dad said the opposite.
The boy answered. His voice was still soft, but acquiring a firmness that surprised everyone. “Your dad.” Gabriel sneered. “And where is your dad now?” “Too busy to take care of his own son.” “He’s dead.” The boy said without apparent emotion. But Elena let out a muffled “syo” that echoed throughout the office like a silent cry of pain. The word landed in the room like a bomb.
Even the most cynical businessmen felt a strange unease stir in their stomachs. They had unknowingly crossed a line. “I’m sorry,” Mateo murmured. Though the words sounded hollow even to himself, he wasn’t. The boy looked him straight in the eyes with an intensity that made Mateo involuntarily back away. If he were sorry, he wouldn’t be doing this.
“Kid, be careful how you talk to me,” Mateo warned, feeling the situation slipping from his grasp. “Or what?” the boy asked with a calmness that was terrifying in someone so young. “She’s going to fire my mom. Is she going to take away the jobs that barely pay the bills? Is she going to make us even poorer than we already are?” Each question was like a slap in the face. Mateo realized he had completely underestimated this child.
