Chapter 3
Daniel Whitaker was thirty-six years old and, in the eyes of the world, the very embodiment of success. His name was emblazoned on glass and steel facades, on refined hotels and restaurants frequented by the elite. He had started with a small, casual start-up in Seattle, with a simple idea and fierce determination, and in just a few years he had built a business empire capable of commanding admiration, respect... and sometimes even fear.
Money had never been a problem for him. It flowed through his life with an almost uncanny ease, as if the entire world were willing to open doors and opportunities to him without resistance.
Yet, that winter evening, sitting next to the large window of his most prestigious restaurant, Daniel felt nothing resembling satisfaction.
He looked at the illuminated city, at the people rushing by on the sidewalk, and inside himself he felt only a silent, deep, unfillable emptiness.
Five years earlier, an accident on a mountain road had shattered his life as he knew it. A sharp turn, a moment of distraction, the violent sound of twisting metal... and then darkness.
Doctors had performed miracles to save him. But they hadn't managed to restore the use of his legs.
Since then, the wheelchair had become his daily reality.
At first, he fought with all his strength. He consulted specialists from all over the world, tried innovative therapies, and underwent complex operations. Each time, he clung to a new opportunity with the same determination that had made him rich.
But the years had passed.
And the results never came.
Slowly, something inside him had turned off.
He no longer believed in healing. And, over time, he had also stopped believing in the meaning of things.
Among the few constant presences in his life was Elena Morales.
She was thirty-one years old and had come from a small town near Santa Fe. She had been working for him for about three years, taking care of the house with an almost invisible discretion. She prepared simple but meticulous meals, kept everything in order, and ensured that the large, often too quiet, house didn't become a completely devoid of warmth.
But Elena wasn't just an employee.
