That afternoon, I went to the Villareal residence for Clara’s tutoring session.
The house was quiet when I arrived.
A maid let me inside, and I found Clara waiting in the study with her books already spread across the table.
She looked up as I entered.
“You’re late.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall.
“I’m three minutes early.”
“Still feels late.”
“You were waiting for me?”
“Maybe.”
I shook my head and sat across from her, looking over the books she had prepared.
“All right.
What are we studying today?”
“Physics.”
“Which topic?”
“Electricity.”
I opened her textbook and pulled it closer.
“Then let’s start with the basics.”
For the next hour, I focused on teaching her rather than thinking about investments.
Clara was actually a good student.
She learned quickly whenever she was genuinely interested, although she occasionally had a habit of intentionally making simple mistakes just to see whether I would notice.
Whenever I caught one, she would give me the most innocent expression she could manage before correcting it.
Eventually, she closed her notebook and leaned back in her chair.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You said before that you were interested in technology.”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Is that why you like batteries?”
I considered the question.
“Partly.”
“What exactly interests you about them?”
I closed the textbook and rested my hands on the table.
“Most people think of a battery as something that stores electricity.
That’s only part of the problem.
You also have to control how that energy is stored and released.”
Clara listened closely.
“What do you mean?”
“If you don’t monitor the battery properly, you can shorten its lifespan or create safety problems.
You need to know things like voltage, current, temperature, and how the battery is behaving while it’s charging or discharging.”
“So something has to watch all of that?”
“Exactly.”
“A computer?”
“Not necessarily a full computer.
A control system would be enough.
Sensors collect the information, and the system uses that information to determine how the battery should operate.”
She leaned forward, clearly interested.
“Could something like that make batteries last longer?”
“Yes.
If the system is designed properly, it can manage charging and discharging more efficiently and prevent the battery from being pushed beyond safe limits.”
Clara nodded slowly.
“You really know a lot about this.”
“I’ve studied it.”
“Only studied?”
I smiled.
“Mostly.”
She watched me for a moment.
“Do you actually enjoy talking about this?”
“I enjoy solving problems.
The subject itself is just one of the tools.”
“That’s strange.”
“Why?”
“Most people don’t get this excited about batteries.”
I laughed.
“Most people aren’t interested in the same things I am.”
She smiled.
“I noticed.”
I opened her textbook again.
“Now, back to electricity.”
She sighed dramatically.
“You’re cruel.”
“I’m your tutor.”
“That’s what makes it worse.”
I laughed, and we continued studying.
About twenty minutes later, Clara stopped writing.
She twirled her pencil between her fingers, watching me for a few seconds before speaking.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“You’ve been asking me questions all afternoon.”
“This one’s important.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“All right.”
She rested her chin against her hand.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
The question caught me slightly off guard.
“Yes.”
Clara’s eyebrows rose.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Rosalie.”
“I’ve heard that name.”
“You have?”
She nodded.
“You’ve mentioned her before.”
I thought about it.
“I did?”
“Not directly.” She smiled.
“You’re just not very subtle whenever she’s involved.”
“I don’t think I talk about her that much.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Fine.
Maybe sometimes.”
Clara leaned back in her chair and studied me.
“How long have you been together?”
“Not very long.”
“And you really like her?”
“Yes.”
The answer came so naturally that Clara’s expression changed slightly.
“What do you like about her?”
I thought about it for a moment.
“She’s kind.
She’s smart, and she works hard.
She’s also easy to talk to.”
Clara nodded thoughtfully.
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“You’re really serious about her.”
“Yes.”
There wasn’t any hesitation in my answer.
Clara rolled her pencil between her fingers again.
“Is she pretty?”
“Yes.”
“How pretty?”
I looked at her.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A perfectly normal one.”
“It’s really not.”
She smiled.
“I’m just curious.”
I shook my head.
“She is pretty.”
Clara narrowed her eyes playfully.
“Is she prettier than me?”
I nearly laughed.
“What?”
She sat up straighter and pointed at herself.
“Is Rosalie prettier than me?”
I stared at her for a moment.
“That is definitely not a normal question.”
“Just answer it.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked.”
“That doesn’t make it easier.”
Clara crossed her arms.
“So you can’t answer?”
“I can answer.
I just don’t understand why you’re asking.”
She smiled confidently.
“Maybe I want to know how I compare.”
I looked at her, then sighed.
“You’re both pretty.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I know.”
“So?”
I rubbed my forehead.
“I’m not going to rank people.”
Clara stared at me for a second before laughing.
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m trying to survive the question.”
She laughed again.
“You’re funny when you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable.”
“You are.”
“I’ve been interrogated by better people.”
“Better?”
I realized my mistake.
Clara’s eyes narrowed.
“Who interrogated you?”
“No one.”
“You said better people.”
“I meant—”
She leaned across the table.
“Was Rosalie’s mother one of them?”
I sighed.
“Yes.”
Clara burst out laughing.
“You actually met her family?”
“Yes.”
“And you survived?”
“Barely.”
She covered her mouth as she laughed.
For a moment, the teasing faded and she simply looked at me.
Then she asked more quietly, “What does she have that you like so much?”
I thought about it.
“She’s kind to people even when she doesn’t have to be.
She doesn’t make everything about herself.
And when she cares about something, she works hard for it.”
Clara listened without interrupting.
“You really admire her.”
“Yes.”
“Not just because she’s pretty.”
“Of course not.”
She smiled faintly.
“That’s troublesome.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Nothing.”
She looked back at her notebook.
I waited for an explanation, but she had already started writing again.
After a few seconds, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye.
“Does she know you think she’s pretty?”
“Yes.”
“And she knows you like her?”
“Yes.”
“And she likes you too?”
I nodded.
“She does.”
Clara’s pencil stopped moving.
She was quiet for several seconds.
Then she looked up again.
“You’re very loyal.”
“I don’t think loyalty is a bad thing.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Her smile returned.
“In fact, I think it’s pretty admirable.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.”
She lowered her gaze to her notebook, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Still, if I were prettier, would you consider changing your mind?”
I stared at her.
“Clara.”
“What?”
“You’re my student.”
“So?”
“So that’s a strange question to ask your tutor.”
She laughed.
“I was joking.”
I gave her a skeptical look.
“You’re not very convincing.”
“Maybe a little.”
I shook my head and pointed toward her worksheet.
“Finish the problem.”
She looked at the page and groaned.
“You always ruin the fun.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Fine.”
She picked up her pencil again, although the smile on her face didn’t disappear.
I returned to the lesson without thinking too much about the conversation.
Clara had always been confident, curious, and willing to say whatever came into her head.
I assumed she was simply teasing me.
I didn’t realize that she had already started comparing herself with Rosalie.
And judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t entirely unhappy about the idea of having a little competition.
By the time the tutoring session ended, the afternoon sun had begun to soften.
I packed my things and stood up.
“I’ll see you next week.”
“Next week?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not coming earlier?”
“Why would I?”
“So I can be ready.”
“You’re already ready.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to wait.”
I smiled.
“Goodbye, Clara.”
“Bye, Rafael.”
I had just reached the door when she called after me.
“Rafael?”
I turned.
“Yes?”
She smiled sweetly.
“Tell Rosalie I said hello.”
I stared at her for a second.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
I shook my head and walked out.
I didn’t notice the satisfied smile she wore after I left.
I had barely stepped into the hallway when I heard another voice.
“Rafael.”
Daniel Villareal approaching from the other side of the house.
“Mr.
Villareal.”
He gave me a polite smile.
“Do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
“Come with me.”
He led me toward his office.
Unlike Clara’s study, his office looked more like a place where decisions were made.
There were several folders stacked on one side of the desk, a computer near the window, and a few technical documents spread across a table.
He motioned for me to sit.
“I wanted to talk to you about the battery design.”
I immediately became more attentive.
“How is it performing?”
“Better than expected.”
He picked up one of the reports.
“We’ve been testing the system under different loads.
The thermal behavior is more stable, and the efficiency has improved compared with our previous setup.”
“That’s good.”
“Very good,” he corrected.
He placed the report in front of me.
“The biggest improvement came from the control side.
Once we adjusted the way the system monitored the cells, the performance became much more consistent.”
I looked through the numbers.
“How much improvement?”
“Depending on the operating conditions, we’ve seen a meaningful increase in usable capacity and better thermal management.
We’re still testing it, so I don’t want to call the results final yet.”
“That makes sense.”
Mr.
Villareal leaned back.
“There is something else.”
“What is it?”
“We’re considering whether to develop the design further.”
I looked up.
“How far?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you are interested in continuing.”
I thought about it.
The project had already accomplished what I wanted.
It had given me money, credibility, and a connection to someone who understood the energy sector.
But the larger value wasn’t the battery itself.
It was the opportunity to understand the surrounding technology.
“I’d be interested in helping with the next stage,” I said.
“But I don’t want to interfere with your existing business.”
Mr.
Villareal smiled.
“You’re thinking too far ahead.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
He tapped the report with one finger.
“What would you change?”
“Before changing the battery itself, I’d improve the monitoring and control system.
Better sensors, more accurate data collection, and a better way of managing charging and discharging.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Then we should start there.”
He nodded.
“I’ve already asked the engineers to prepare another round of testing.”
“Good.”
“And if the results continue to look promising, I may want to discuss a longer-term arrangement with you.”
I paused.
“What kind of arrangement?”
“Consulting.
Development work.
Perhaps something larger eventually.”
I considered his words carefully.
A formal position would be difficult.
I was fourteen, after all.
There were limits to what I could legally do and what people would take seriously.
But a consulting arrangement through the proper channels was different.
“I’d be interested,” I said.
“As long as everything is handled properly.”
Mr.
Villareal gave me an approving look.
“You’re careful.”
“I have to be.”
He smiled.
“I’ll have my people organize the details.
For now, I wanted you to know that the design is working.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
He stood and extended his hand.
“Thank you for the design.”
I shook his hand.
The entire conversation had lasted less than fifteen minutes, but it left me thinking.
The battery project had started as a single problem someone needed solved.
Now it was becoming something more.
Not just a source of money, but an entry point into an industry.
That was exactly the kind of foundation I needed.
By the time I left the Villareal residence, the afternoon had nearly become evening.
I walked home along the familiar streets, passing small shops and houses packed closely together.
Motorcycles moved through traffic while vendors prepared their evening stalls.
The smell of grilled food drifted through the air, and somewhere nearby, a radio played an old song through a distorted speaker.
For a while, I simply enjoyed the walk.
Then my attention settled on our house.
The roof was old.
Some of the walls had already developed cracks, and parts of the wiring had been repaired more than once.
The plumbing was functional, but I knew there were places that needed attention.
The rooms were cramped, and there was barely enough space for everyone, let alone the kind of workspace I would eventually need.
I had enough money now to improve some of it.
The thought lasted only a few seconds before I dismissed it.
Not yet.
The house stood on family land, and that created a larger problem.
The property had complicated ownership ties involving my grandmother’s share and other relatives, and those issues would eventually have to be settled properly.
Until then, spending a large amount of money renovating the house would be premature.
I could handle small repairs when necessary, but I didn’t want to pour money into a property whose ownership wasn’t secure.
That problem would come later.
For now, I had more important work to do.
That evening, I returned to my desk and opened the document I had created that morning.
FINANCIAL FOUNDATION.
I reviewed everything I had written before adding another section.
In the short term, my priority would be protecting the capital I already had while gradually diversifying the portfolio and maintaining enough liquidity for emergencies.
Adrian would continue managing the investments, but I wanted to become less dependent on any single opportunity and slowly develop exposure to different industries and markets.
Over the next few years, I wanted to build professional relationships and prepare for the point when my finances would become too complicated to manage informally.
Lawyers, accountants, financial professionals, and eventually a proper corporate structure would become necessary.
Beyond that, I wanted the money to become more than money.
It needed to become equipment, research, facilities, people, and eventually technology.
The path wouldn’t be quick, and I didn’t expect it to be.
I only needed each stage to create the conditions for the next.
Capital would create opportunities.
Opportunities would create relationships.
Relationships would provide access to knowledge and technology.
Knowledge could become products, and products could eventually become a company.
The company itself would be the beginning of something much larger.
I saved the document and looked at the final line I had written.
Protect the family first.
That mattered more than everything else.
The investments could grow slowly.
The company could wait, and so could the research facilities and more ambitious projects.
My family, however, couldn’t be put on hold while I worked toward some distant goal.
I closed the laptop and leaned back in my chair.
For now, I had money, Adrian, a growing connection to Mr.
Villareal, and access to knowledge most people my age wouldn’t have for years.
More importantly, I still had time to build everything properly instead of rushing into something I wasn’t ready to handle.
That was enough for the next step.
The future company could wait.
The foundation couldn’t.