The maid secretly dyed a pot of cheap rice yellow and called it “gold rice” so the four little boys would feel like princes… But the day the billionaire came home early and saw it, he froze—because the boys looked exactly like him, and that “gold rice” was the secret that kept them alive.

“WHO ARE THESE CHILDREN?”
Elena jumped up, instinctively stepping in front of the boys with her arms spread wide—protective, fierce.

Alejandro marched forward, rage beginning to replace shock. His voice shook the room:
“What does this mean, Elena?”

The boys clustered behind her, trembling. Elena’s voice trembled too, but she held her ground:
“They’re not strangers, sir.”

Alejandro demanded, “Whose children are they? Are they yours?”
Elena tried a weak lie—“My nephews.”

Alejandro’s eyes flicked to the boys’ shirts. One wore a fabric pattern Alejandro recognized from clothing he’d thrown away.
He said coldly, “Why are they dressed in my old clothes?”

THE BIRTHMARK
Alejandro reached for the bravest boy’s arm. Elena warned, low and sharp: “Don’t touch them.”
But Alejandro ignored her.

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