THE RED BALL AND DESTINY

The months passed relentlessly. Valentina could barely stay on her feet as she tried to accept that Luz would never return. And just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, everything exploded.

Héctor and Sandra did not wait. They were not going to let anyone point fingers at them. They moved their pieces coldly. They hired a digital manipulation specialist and paid him whatever it took to make the job flawless.

Then came the final blow: a nationally televised press conference. With composed expressions and carefully calculated speeches, they presented evidence. They claimed that Valentina, consumed by grief and obsessive jealousy, had fabricated the video to destroy them.

The effect was immediate.

Public opinion switched sides. Doubts took root. People looked away.

In the eyes of the world, Héctor and Sandra restored their spotless reputations. In Leonidas’s eyes, Valentina was no longer the victim. Now she was unstable, out of control, a woman incapable of accepting reality.

That morning, the sun beat down with unnecessary cruelty. Valentina was leaving an office building in the city center. Another job interview, another rejection.

The recruiter who had interviewed her seemed unsure, searching for words to soften the blow.

“Ms. Valentina, regarding your profile... I...” he began, scratching the back of his neck.

“Don’t try to apologize,” she interrupted, stopping dead. Her voice was flat, stripped of every trace of emotion. “I know the speech by heart. No one wants to hire the woman who accused her husband and sister of having sex in front of the cameras. I’m a risk to your company’s image.”

The man looked at her with a mixture of pity and embarrassment. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet hers.

“I truly am sorry. Your academic credentials are impeccable, but the orders come from above.”

“Pity doesn’t pay the bills,” she declared, with a firmness that concealed the trembling of her hands.

Valentina adjusted her bag on her shoulder and stepped out onto the street. The noise of traffic and the bustle of the crowd suddenly engulfed her. She walked with a distant gaze, wondering how much longer she could endure. She was alone.

Suddenly, the screech of tires shattered the rhythm of the avenue. A small boy, about four years old, was running frantically across the asphalt after a red ball. He didn’t see the black sedan speeding toward him. The driver, distracted by his phone, barely reacted.

The maternal instinct that Valentina still carried etched into her very core despite her loss sprang into action. She didn’t think. She did not measure the danger.

“Watch out!” she shouted, rushing into the middle of the street.

Her hands reached the little boy just as the car slammed on its brakes with a metallic screech. The bumper stopped mere inches from her legs. Valentina fell to her knees, pulling the child against her chest and shielding him with her own body.

Traffic came to an abrupt halt. Horns began blaring, creating a symphony of chaos. The boy, a little child with brown hair and eyes brimming with tears, clung to her neck with desperate strength.

“Mommy! Mommy!” the little boy sobbed, burying his face in the hollow of her shoulder.

Valentina felt an electric shock. That cry pierced straight through her.

“It’s all right, it’s over. You’re safe here,” she whispered, tenderly stroking his hair, unaware that the boy wasn’t hers but feeling his fear as if it were her own.

People began to gather around them. Two tall men in immaculate black suits and dark glasses pushed brusquely through the crowd. They radiated danger and authority.

“Julián, come here right now,” one of them said, reaching out to snatch the child away.

The little boy pressed himself even closer to Valentina, sobbing harder.

“No! Mommy! Do not leave me!” Julián screamed, digging his little hands into Valentina’s jacket.

“Let him go. You are frightening him,” she protested, getting to her feet with the child in her arms. She would not let them take him like that, especially when he was trembling so badly.

“Ma’am don’t make things difficult. The boy is coming with us,” the other man replied in a tone that allowed no argument.

At that moment, one of the bodyguards’ phones vibrated. He answered immediately, keeping his eyes fixed on Valentina.

“Sir, we have Julián. He’s unharmed. But... there’s a problem. He won’t let go. He’s clinging to a woman and keeps calling her ‘Mom.’”

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line. Then a deep voice, charged with icy authority and an urgency that allowed no questions, replied:

“Bring Julián to me immediately. And bring that woman too. I don’t care how you do it.”

The men exchanged a knowing look. Valentina felt a chill that had nothing to do with the morning breeze.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to come with us,” the taller man said, gripping her arm firmly.

“Where? Who are you?” she asked, feeling her heart pound against her ribs.

“To see this little boy’s father. And I suggest you don’t resist. My boss isn’t used to taking no for an answer.”

Valentina looked at Julián’s tear-streaked face. The boy gazed at her with absolute devotion, as if she were his only lifeline in an ocean of shadows.