“Call whoever you want.” He laughed… until he realized who was on the other end of the line.

Investors objected.

Columnists scoffed.

Some claimed it was political strategy.

Perhaps part of it was. José wasn’t naive.

But he also recognized something else: a man attempting to break a harsh habit before it hardened into destiny.

One afternoon, after a lengthy meeting, Máximo walked José to the building’s exit. On the sidewalk, amid the steady hum of the city, he asked:

“That day, when he called me… did you already know he would step in?”

José adjusted the strap of his satchel.

“I knew you would listen. I didn’t know what you would decide.”

“Why didn’t he intervene from the start?”

José smiled, weary yet steady.

“Because I wanted to see whether you could choose what was right without fear. If fear pushes you, you act once. If conscience guides you, you transform.”

Máximo watched the traffic, then looked back at him.

“Did I transform?”

José took his time before answering.

“It started.”

They shook hands.

Not as a wealthy man and a poor one.

Not as victor and defeated.

But as two men who had witnessed something genuine in a room that had once held only power.

José slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and headed back toward the neighborhood.