He came back with a million pesos—then froze the moment he opened his front door.

—Maura! Son! —Leandro shouted, kneeling down.

He touched the child’s forehead.

It was burning.

Maura opened her eyes for barely a second.

“Leandro…?” she whispered. “Don’t let him die…”

And he lost consciousness.

Leandro didn’t think.
He hoisted her onto his back, pressed his son to his chest, and ran out into the street, screaming like a wounded animal.

—Help! Please! My family is dying!

The neighbors came out alarmed. One started his truck and took them to the San Arcadio regional hospital .

In the emergency room, Leandro collapsed to the floor.
Beside him, the open backpack containing a million pesos seemed like a cruel joke.

The doctor left with a tense expression.

“His wife is suffering from extreme malnutrition and metabolic collapse . The child has severe pneumonia and respiratory failure .
” He paused. “They reached their limit. A little later… we wouldn’t be here to tell the tale.”

Leandro didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Then a neighbor, Doña Severina , approached and spoke in a low voice:

—Leandro… no one heard from you for a year. Maura was left alone, without milk, without money.
Your mother, Brígida Izcoa , said you had abandoned her. She went to live with your sister to take care of the other grandchild.
Maura asked for help… but she no longer had the strength.

Every word was a condemnation.
Leandro marked his mother.

“Hello?” she replied cheerfully. “We’re having dinner, there’s music playing…”

“My son almost died!” Leandro shouted. “Where were you when your grandson was fading?”