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.

And then he saw it: a birthmark on the child’s forearm—exactly where Alejandro had his own. A mark passed down in his family line.

His knees nearly gave out. He searched the other boys’ faces, their features, their expressions. The truth pressed in like a wall.

Alejandro whispered, voice rough: “Look at me, Elena. Tell me the truth.”

One of the boys pointed at Alejandro with innocent certainty:
“You look like the photo.”

Alejandro went still. “What photo?”

The boy answered brightly, unaware of the earthquake he’d caused:
“The photo Elena shows us before we sleep. She says you’re good… just busy.”

Then the child asked the question that broke the room:
“Are you my dad?”

“YES. THEY’RE YOUR CHILDREN.”
Elena’s face collapsed into tears. She nodded slowly.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “They’re your children… all four.”

Read more on the next page >>