"Of course."
"Is that expensive car outside yours?"
She nodded. “I bought it last month. My old car broke down.”
"And you keep coming to this cafe where coffee costs two dollars, instead of going to the fancy places downtown?"
“This place has the best coffee,” she said. “And the owner remembers my name.”
Ben smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Graciela. You know what matters.”
She understood then. Money had given her freedom and power. But it hadn't changed her heart. She still valued the same things: kindness, meaningful work, real connections.
Money had only ensured that the world had to treat her according to her true worth.
Every morning, Graciela woke up in her penthouse. She looked out at the city. And she thought about that night, about the red dress, about the icy laughter. She thought about her grandmother. And about the final gift.
The real inheritance wasn't the $47 million. It was the understanding that she was always valuable, always worthy, always enough. The money just gave her the power to prove it.
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