Her mother preparing lessons.
The long years of moving, learning languages, studying, and working jobs that left her exhausted.
She remembered the night she feared losing her scholarship.
The moment she thought she'd lost her job.
And the morning she wondered whether a millionaire's embarrassment might destroy everything she'd worked toward.
Then she looked toward the city again.
“Mamá?”
“Yes?”
“I think I'm finally doing the work I was meant to do.”
Celia was silent for a moment.
Then she whispered, “I know you are.”
Elena's eyes filled.
Her mother continued.
“Your father would have wanted to see this.”
Elena nodded.
“I know.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Celia laughed.
“And did you remember to eat dinner?”
Elena burst out laughing.
“Yes, Mamá.”
“Good. You can save international trade policy after you've finished your vegetables.”
Elena laughed harder.
“Of course.”
When the call ended, she returned to the dining room.
Amina was clearing glasses near the doorway.
She looked up.
“Madame Marković?”
Elena smiled.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
The young waitress hesitated.
Then spoke quietly.
“Do you think somebody like me could become an engineer?”
Elena felt something warm move through her chest.
She looked toward Amina's face.
The nervous eyes.
The careful posture.
The hope she was almost afraid to reveal.
Elena recognized it.
She had once carried that same hope into rooms where people assumed she was only there to serve them.
She smiled gently.
“Amina, I don't know what grades you have or which programs you're considering.”
The waitress nodded.
Elena continued.
“But I know your uniform doesn't determine what you're capable of learning.”
Amina's eyes filled.
“And if engineering is what you want, then you deserve the chance to pursue it seriously.”
The young woman smiled.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Amina whispered, “Thank you.”
Elena nodded.
“Keep studying.”
She turned toward the entrance.
Then stopped.
For a moment, she looked back at the magnificent dining room.
The candles.
The white flowers.
The crystal glasses.
The investors.
And the empty space beside Antoine's chair where she had stood six months earlier.
She remembered his voice.
One hundred thousand dollars if you can speak Spanish fluently.
She remembered placing her notepad on the table.
And answering.
I accept.
At the time, Antoine believed the money was the most powerful part of his challenge.