When the girl's parents arrived, the man recognized her father as the judge who sentenced him to 10

Routine was customary for him: home, work, home. He loved returning to his cozy space after a long and arduous shift working as a technician at a chemical plant. The journey home, though often already dark in the evenings, always relaxed him and helped him forget about the heavy workdays, providing enough time to daydream.

In those moments, he thought about the warmest and most pleasant things, and about people—his wife eagerly awaiting him at home, the delicious dinner she cooked excellently, as well as the time the couple invariably spent together with their little son relaxing after a day's work by watching a movie or a series. Jorge never found it difficult to return home late in the evening; even in twilight and darkness, he was always a careful driver, attentive to what was on the road and on the sidelines. Accustomed to the various wildlife inhabiting their area, he understood well that it was easier to hit an animal in the evenings, even if it was a stray dog or a cat suddenly darting under the car.

This evening, he smiled in anticipation of the time he would spend with his wife, who also worked at the same factory but finished her shift much earlier than her husband. She returned home with her colleagues, and before Jorge's arrival, she managed to prepare dinner and even tidy up the house, although the man didn't mind helping her with that on his days off. Jorge habitually slowed down as he approached to turn and suddenly noticed movement on the roadside.

Slowing down even more, he hoped not to scare off the animal lurking in the darkness of the thickening night. However, upon closer inspection, he immediately hit the brakes. For a couple of moments, he stared into the darkness, wondering if he was imagining things.

But then he saw a faintly rising thin small hand, covered in blood and dust. Jumping out of the car, the man hurried towards what he took for an animal. With each step, his eyes widened more and more, and his body was seized by shock.

Lying in the grass and dust was a very young girl, contorted in pain and fear. As he approached, Jorge realized that the child couldn't have been more than twelve years old, and she looked as if she didn't know what to do—whether to crawl closer to the road in search of help or away from it to avoid further harm. The sheer panic in the girl's eyes stabbed Jorge's heart painfully as he suddenly realized that she must have been hit by a car or been the victim of an accident.

Looking around, Jorge found no trace of a crashed car, and he thought that his initial assumption was probably correct. How and why she ended up so late in this place, he didn't know, but he couldn't help but think that the girl might have been lying in the grass for hours. The man hastily pulled out his mobile phone and cursed; its battery died, and now it was just a useless piece of plastic he couldn't use to call for an ambulance.

Ideally, it should have been the ambulance to transport the victim hit by a car, as moving the child could not only cause her more pain but also potentially worsen her injuries. Glancing around, Jorge realized that there were too few cars on the road at this late hour to wait for help, and who, after all, would stop almost at night for a stranger to listen to a plea to call an ambulance? The man quickly examined the child, touching her fragile body as gently as possible, trying to understand what could be broken.

"Hang in there," he muttered, trying to sound reassuring. "Just hang in there. I'll help you.

" Finding several broken bones and a bleeding wound on the girl's temple, Jorge realized that he should stabilize the fractures and try to stop the bleeding before attempting to take the child to the nearest hospital. Rushing to his car, he quickly grabbed a small first aid kit, picked up a couple of planks lying in the trunk from some repair work he had recently done at home, and returned to the child. Working swiftly, he bandaged the girl and applied splints to her broken bones.

"Hold on and forgive me, it's going to hurt," Jorge carefully lifted the child into his arms. Though she cried, she lacked the strength to scream, even if he did cause her pain, which he didn't intend. After laying the girl in the back seat, he returned to the driver's seat and headed towards the hospital, glancing back at the whimpering child.

The journey to the trauma unit didn't take long, and when Jorge carried the child inside, shouting for urgent help, several nurses and the attending doctor rushed to him almost immediately, handing the girl over to the professionals. Jorge wearily sat down in a chair as someone questioned him about what had happened and who the girl was. Still shaken by the events, Jorge explained that he found the child on the roadside, unaware of her identity, origin, or parents.

Realizing that the doctors would have questions and not wanting to leave the child alone, he felt compelled to stay in the waiting area. He asked the young woman at the reception desk to use the phone to call his wife and let her know he would be late for dinner. Then came the long wait, and Jorge nervously tapped his foot, wondering if the girl would survive and if he had gotten her to the hospital in time.

Even if the doctors had discharged him, he would have stayed in the hospital to ensure the child was okay; that's who he was—kind and compassionate, unable to abandon someone in need. After what seemed like an eternity, a man and a woman burst into the ward like a whirlwind. were pale with panic as they demanded more than asked to see their daughter.

One of the young doctors, quickly recognizing their names, understood they were the parents of the girl Jorge had brought in, who managed to utter her name while they examined her and tended to her wounds. The doctor informed the parents that the girl had been brought in by a man who found her on the side of the road. "Who?

! Who was it? " demanded the girl's father.

When the doctor pointed to Jorge, sitting in the waiting room, the man rose from his seat, realizing they were talking about him. Seeing the girl's father, Jorge was stunned, suddenly recognizing the man. Nervousness and anticipation gave way to shock and tension.

Jorge didn't know what to say to this person. The girl's father approached him and extended his hand. "Thank you.

You saved my daughter. " Jorge grimly looked at the man and reluctantly shook his hand, remaining silent. However, the man suddenly froze and frowned; he too recognized the man standing before him.

Jorge didn't say anything, just nodded grimly and walked away, leaving the child in the care of professionals and her parents. He wanted nothing from the girl's father—neither gratitude nor acknowledgement. As he headed home, Jorge thought about how this man, Martin Silva, a judge, had shattered Jorge's life 15 years ago.

He had long forgotten how exactly his life fell apart overnight, but now the memory resurfaced, flooding his consciousness with a nauseating feeling in his chest. Fifteen years ago, Jorge was just an ordinary student; he studied, tried his best to balance his studies and entertainment, enjoyed himself with friends, made plans, and dreamed about his future. But on one fateful evening, he simply found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The alley he happened to pass by turned out to be the scene of a horrific crime. Jorge was caught on the cameras of a nearby gas station, leading the police to apprehend him, mistaking him for the culprit. The trial was swift, and witnesses pointed to Jorge as the perpetrator, describing in detail the clothing they saw on the murderer fleeing the scene.

No matter how much Jorge tried to tell the truth in his defense, no one listened. It all boiled down to the timing of his proximity to the crime scene and the popular sweatshirt he was wearing, common among students at that time. He was convicted, and he found himself in prison, sentenced to 10 years.

Jorge sighed heavily; fifteen years had passed, and nothing could be changed anymore, so there was no point in being angry. The conviction remained with him for his entire life, but he was released early, having reduced his sentence through exemplary behavior. Finding a job afterward was very difficult, and the dreams of the future seemed unattainable after the trial, but he endured all the trials, refusing to give up and moving forward.

By fate, he got a job at a chemical plant in the suburbs, where he worked diligently and also met his wife, Algra, with whom he fell in love as a teenager. Their relationship helped him emerge from the dark and empty existence he led back then. Now he was not only grateful to his wife for her support and love, but also admired her unbiased attitude.

She was not afraid of Jorge's conviction and accepted him for who he truly was: kind, compassionate, and a good person. She didn't go wrong with her choice; their couple was harmonious, and together they were incredibly happy. Algra and Jorge had a modest but heartfelt wedding, and a year later, their son, Cheser, was born.

Jorge felt incredibly lucky with his wife, and their son grew up clever and just as kind as his parents. There was nothing more a man could dream of. Returning home after an unexpected incident, Jorge didn't even know what to say to Algra.

For the first time in their life together, he didn't want to tell her what had happened. The family welcomed the tired man with open arms; exhausted, he didn't even feel hungry, so Algra didn't bother asking her husband what had happened and sent him to bed. He clearly needed rest after the exhausting evening.

Jorge didn't resist; he firmly decided that it wasn't worth spending time even thinking about the judge who unjustly sentenced him. The judge wasn't worth worrying about now. Jorge was only concerned about Algra and Cheser, the family he loved with all his heart, and he had to focus all his attention on them.

Everything else was less important. On the other side of the city, Martin Silva couldn't relax at all. Since meeting Jorge in the hospital's emergency department, a strange feeling had not left him, gnawing at him as if a glowing ember was churning inside him.

He remembered Jorge, the unlucky student he sent to prison on false charges. Ambitious and unprincipled, Silva was a judge who often took bribes to either lighten sentences for criminals or shift blame onto others, whether they were guilty or not. That time, fifteen years ago, it turned out just like that.

The case was high-profile; a brutal crime committed in one of the city's alleys attracted unwanted attention. The real killer, through an acquaintance, met Martin and paid the judge to drop all charges against him. The unsuspecting student stumbled into the hands of the police and turned out to be the perfect victim, and Silva, without a hint of conscience, sent the kid to prison knowing full well he was innocent.

Martin nervously clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. He had dealt with hardened criminals for so many years, but for the first time, he was afraid. Before his eyes stood the chilling gaze of a former convict, and because of this, Silva couldn't shake the shiver running down his spine.

He realized that. . .

Jorge had found out about his family. Martin's daughter could very well have disclosed who she was and where she lived. Silva understood the danger of what had happened.

Jorge would undoubtedly seek revenge on him and his family. The former inmate knew what Martin's daughter and his wife looked like. For the first time, Silva was genuinely afraid for the lives of his loved ones and for his own as well.

The man pondered how to rectify the situation. Over the years of his work as a judge, he had accumulated many criminals indebted to him for the favors Silva had done for them. He also had extensive connections in law enforcement.

Action needed to be swift. Silva firmly decided he wouldn't allow Jorge to take revenge on him and his family, and he began calling those with whom he had ties in the criminal world. He knew they could make this problem disappear or at least initially try to scare Jorge into leaving town.

And if the former inmate didn't catch the hint, those same criminals could make him just another statistic—missing or dead. Making sure his case wouldn't be thoroughly investigated was easy for someone like Martin. Silva managed to gather many of his debtors, willing to help him for the services he had provided in the past.

Martin obtained all he could about Jorge; photos of the student during the investigation of the crime 15 years ago were still easy to find. The criminals listened to what was required of them and promised to take care of everything. They didn't care whom they hurt, so everything should resolve in Martin's favor soon.

Meanwhile, Jorge, brushing off a meeting with the judge who had once falsely accused him, continued living his life, hardly sparing him a thought. And though he still adhered to his usual routine, he gradually began noticing the same people on the street and around his workplace. At first, it could be dismissed as coincidence, but the same cars followed him on the road, and the same faces appeared on the street.

Jorge suspected something was amiss. With each passing day, he began to wonder more. Perhaps it was all in his head, or maybe someone was following him.

He tried his best to shake off the heavy feeling that all these strangers were purposefully pursuing him, but as it turned out, none of this was the result of the man's imagination. One pleasant evening, as Jorge enjoyed his weekend, he drove into the city to stop by one of his favorite shops and stock up on essentials. He was in a good mood, already planning how to surprise his spouse on their upcoming anniversary, which was just around the corner.

However, as Jorge exited the store and headed towards his car parked nearby, he suddenly heard footsteps behind him. Glancing back, he saw the same people he had noticed before, both in the city and around his workplace. The strangers' grim faces seemed menacing, prompting Jorge to quicken his pace, hoping it was some misunderstanding and that the men were simply walking in the same direction as him.

But the footsteps behind him quickened, and moments later, someone suddenly struck him in the back. Jorge couldn't stay on his feet and fell immediately. Five strangers surrounded him and began kicking him, beating him with such force and hatred as if one of these men held a personal grudge against him.

Trying to shield his face and head, he could hardly do anything against the five tall and strong men silently beating him on the asphalt. Jorge had no idea how long it lasted, feeling every inch of his body through the prism of pain. But at some point, headlights from an unfamiliar car illuminated the scene, and the thugs scattered as suddenly as they had attacked, frightened by the passing vehicle.

“Run! ” Jorge only heard that command. The driver seemed not to notice either the men fleeing the parking lot or Jorge writhing on the ground.

Slowly regaining consciousness, Jorge was relieved that the car, in the right place at the right time, scared off the thugs; otherwise, they could have beaten him much worse. However, as he got up, he realized that ideally, he should have gone to the hospital. His wrist was swollen and throbbed with pain; blood flowed from his face, and his sides agonized with every movement.

Struggling to reach his car, Jorge shakily inserted the ignition key and turned it, starting his faithful old car that had saved him on the road more than once. The journey to the hospital felt as long as when he had rushed a wounded girl; each second stretched like eternity. Finally, he arrived at the trauma department, where he was attended to, and all the injuries sustained during the beating were examined.

Talking to the doctor, Jorge honestly recounted how he was attacked by some thugs, and the doctor called the police to interview the victim and initiate an investigation to find the criminals. Jorge didn't hold much hope, but he truthfully answered the police officer's questions. He could see from their faces that they either considered him a drunkard who fell down the stairs or someone who got into a fight on his own.

After all, they started their interrogation by mentioning his past conviction. In the end, the police waved off Jorge and left on their own, leaving the man alone with the doctors. He arrived home around midnight when his son was asleep, and his worried wife, Algra, was waiting for him in the dining room.

Seeing him at the door, the woman jumped up and immediately rushed to him. "Holy Virgin Mary! What happened to you?

" she exclaimed, helping him to a chair and noting his busted lips, cut brow, and heavy bruises on his face. "I was attacked," Jorge squeezed out, feeling the tightness of the bandages around his cracked ribs. Ribs.

The doctors had done a good job; although the ribs weren't broken, there were several cracks. The swollen arm was the result of a severe bruise to the wrist joint, so he would have to forget about work for a while and take sick leave. Algra burst into tears, disbelieving.

"How can such people even walk under God's eye? Oh my dear, how did this happen? " For a while, Jorge listened to her words, interspersed with calls to God and all the saints the woman could remember, and he couldn't even think about what to say in response.

When Algra calmed down a bit, expressing all her thoughts about such scoundrels who name innocent people, Jorge took her hand and tried to smile. "Everything will be fine, Algra. It's not as bad as the doctors told me.

" "Not as bad? " His wife flared up again. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror?

" "It will heal," he tried to convince not only Algra but himself. It was unbearable for him to see tears and fear in her eyes. He had tried his best to shield her from such things all their life together, and now he had become the source of her anxieties.

"Don't worry, my dear," he stroked her hand. "Tell me you at least filed a report to the police. " Algra frowned.

"The police talked to me," but his wife scrutinized his face and frowned even more, not waiting for him to continue. "And will they find these scumbags? " Jorge sighed heavily and shook his head.

"He didn't even believe me," he said. "What to believe, a convict? " The woman gritted her teeth and cursed again, this time muttering to herself.

For a couple of minutes, she tried to calm down again, and when she succeeded, she met her husband's gaze and tilted her head to the side. "You never told me what happened about a week ago when you stayed late after work. Could it be related to that evening?

" she cautiously asked. Jorge froze, his thoughts swirling in his head. Perceptive woman, he thought.

He hadn't even considered the meeting with the judge nearly a week ago. Jorge realized that most likely Algra was right and these two incidents were indeed connected. "I don't know, darling," he replied.

"Don't dwell on it. Everything will be fine. " Algra hugged her husband, realizing that it wasn't worth pressing her already exhausted husband with more questions.

She helped him dust off, changed him, tucked him into bed, and spent the next couple of days helping him recover in every possible way. Jorge, contemplating his wife's words, couldn't help but think about what to do next. Seek revenge on the judge who could have orchestrated this awful attack?

No, he wasn't that kind of person. But Jorge did want to have a talk with him, if only to understand why this judge held such animosity toward him. After all, all he had done was rescue Silva's daughter from the side of the road, and the judge had sent some thugs after him as gratitude.

When Jorge was able to move comfortably again, he got into his car and drove toward the building he had been avoiding since the day he was convicted. There, as a student, parking on the curb, he waited, scanning the crowd of people entering and exiting the courthouse for the judge. Hours passed before Jorge finally spotted Martin Silva emerging from the doors.

Observing the robust, laughing man, Jorge thought he must have been pleased with how his day had gone. For a moment, Jorge also pondered how many more innocent people this judge might have sent behind bars. When Martin pulled out of the parking lot, Jorge cautiously followed him, trying to stay inconspicuous.

When Martin parked near one of the apartment buildings, Jorge stopped his car and watched as Martin entered one of the entrances, taking note of the address. Jorge firmly decided to confront the judge in the morning before he went to work. On his way home, Jorge thought about what he could say to Martin Silva.

Jorge hardly slept that night, tossing and turning both from his still aching body and from the thoughts swirling in his head. He couldn't shake the fact that he had no idea what to say to the judge. On one hand, he couldn't fathom why this person would treat him this way.

On the other hand, it seemed like it might be best to abandon the idea altogether. But it was too late to back out. Jorge realized that if Martin Silva could send thugs after him who beat him up, it could very well happen again.

What frightened him the most was the possibility that Algra or Cheser could encounter these scoundrels on their way. That was something Jorge absolutely did not want. He rose long before his wife did, dressed with a medical mask to hide his bruised face.

Jorge pulled his hood over his head and stepped out into the fresh, seemingly calm morning. He arrived at Martin Silva's house, lost in thought and still unsure of what words to say to the judge. Confirming that Silva's car was still in its parking spot, Jorge made his way to the entrance and began to wait.

He didn't wait long; the door opened and Martin Silva stepped out onto the street. Spotting the man in the hood and mask standing right beside him, the judge visibly tensed, though he took a few deep breaths, clearly trying to calm his frayed nerves. "Señor Silva," Jorge stepped toward the judge, who froze, his face paling with horror.

"We need to talk. " Removing his hood and mask, Jorge revealed his battered face, and Silva's eyes widened. "And you're telling me I'm to blame for this?

" "I never laid a finger on you," Martin blustered, trying to collect himself and appear more confident. "Words than he actually felt. " Jorge raised his hand, cutting off the judge's objections with a gesture, and the judge noticed a very strange, incredibly melancholic look from the former convict.

"I didn't come here for revenge," Jorge said in a calm and quiet voice. "I came to remind you that 15 years ago you imprisoned me for a crime I didn't commit. You knew it, but you did it anyway.

I don't blame you; you're human, and humans make mistakes—it's our nature. Everyone has their priorities in life: vices, thoughts, and desires. I don't blame you for giving in to your vices, Señor Silva.

I want to thank you because if it weren't for my time in prison, I wouldn't have met the love of my life. She saw in me not just a released prisoner, but me, and I love her for that. I think you understand such love when you want to shield your loved ones from any danger and harm.

After all, you love your wife and daughter, don't you? I love my wife and son too, and until recently, I didn't care that you still held the position of judge determining people's fates. I forgave you a long time ago, and if it weren't for your daughter, whom I found by the roadside, I wouldn't even remember you.

I only regret one thing, Señor Silva: the time I lost in prison—my nerves and health. Otherwise, I live quite happily, and I don't need you, nor vengeance on you, nor gratitude for saving your daughter. I truly hope she grows up to be less corrupt and cowardly than you.

I would really like your daughter to become better and kinder. " Martin Silva listened to Jorge and remained silent, suddenly feeling a tremor—not from fear, but from the realization of how cruel he had treated a man he didn't know. He didn't even realize at first that tears had formed in his eyes.

Jorge, interrupting for a couple of moments to catch his breath, concluded, "All I want to ask of you is to forget about me and never appear in my life again. " He looked Martin in the eyes; the incredible sincerity of the former convict astonished Martin. He thought he had sent thugs to deal with a criminal seeking revenge on him, but Jorge turned out to be a good and kind man.

All Jorge did was selflessly save his only daughter, while he himself acted like a true scoundrel, sending people to beat him up. Anyone in the former convict's place would have been furious at such injustice; after that, he would surely have had the right to deal with Martin. But Jorge remained just as friendly and reasonable a man.

Even the years spent in prison hadn't changed that innocent student, whom Silva sent to the real criminals and scoundrels. "Forgive me," Martin exhaled, feeling a solitary tear trickle down his cheek. "I didn't think—" Jorge shook his head.

"No need for apologies. I want nothing from you. Just forget about me and live your life.

I hope your daughter recovers soon. Goodbye. " Martin Silva watched as Jorge headed to his car, got in, and drove away.

Despite needing to go to work, Silva stood motionless for a very long time. The man he had harmed so deeply didn't hate him. The judge finally made his way to his car, and for a long time, he sat behind the wheel without moving.

He pondered over the words spoken to him and realized that for the first time in his long life, he had encountered a genuinely sincere and kind person. He was late for work that day, and the following days passed in a haze. Martin only came alive when visiting his daughter in the hospital, who was quickly recovering from her injuries and gradually becoming happier, anticipating her return home.

Perhaps the hardest thing for Martin was that his daughter spoke warmly of the strange uncle who found her by the roadside and helped her, taking her to the hospital. Silva listened to Mercedes and delved deeper into his thoughts. Even his daughter saw in the man who essentially had no obligation to help a stranger girl—a good person—and spoke of him with warmth and gratitude.

By the day they were checking her out of the hospital, Martin arrived with his wife to pick up their daughter. She smiled and handed her father a homemade card she had drawn while lying there. Seeing the colorful drawing on the card, Martin realized he couldn't just let it go.

"Dad, find that man," Mercedes pleaded. "Give him this card. I really want him to know how much he's done for me.

" Martin forced a smile and nodded, unable to utter a word. He was afraid his voice would fail him, and he would cry at this heartfelt gesture from his daughter. The next evening, he gathered his courage and headed to Jorge's house.

Despite his strong doubts and worries that the man would simply dismiss him, he had promised to deliver Mercedes' card and couldn't help but follow through. Standing at the apartment door, he hesitated for a couple of minutes, nervously adjusting his tie and constantly glancing at the envelope containing the card and his business card. Finally, Martin rang the doorbell, feeling even more nervous.

There was no turning back now. When Jorge opened the door, the smile faded from his face. Martin Silva stood on the threshold.

The judge looked ashamed and uncertain, shifting from one foot to the other. Jorge glanced back at his wife and son, then stepped outside, closing the door behind him so his family wouldn't see or hear their conversation. "I told you to forget about me and never show up in my life again," Jorge said quietly but firmly, not taking his eyes off Martin Silva.

"I understand everything, but I—" The judge hesitated, then handed Jorge the envelope. "My daughter, Mercedes. .

. she. .

. " Got discharged, and she asked about you. She really wanted me to give you this.

Jorge indifferently took the envelope but didn't open it, continuing to look at the judge. "Please, please, I understand you hate me for all I've done. I've really messed up, and no efforts can make up for the time you lost in prison because of me.

But Mercedes really wanted to thank you personally. Inside the envelope is my business card with my personal number; you can call anytime. ” Martin stepped back uncertainly.

“Thank you for your time, and thank you for not standing aside when my daughter needed help. ” He turned away, and Jorge watched the judge until he disappeared from sight. Only then did he look at the envelope and open it.

Inside was a homemade card; on it, the girl he saved proudly drew a man standing with a superhero cape billowing behind him. Beneath the picture was a colorful inscription: "My hero. " Jorge read the brief message inside, full of gratitude and kindness, then looked at the judge's business card with a heavy sigh.

He returned to his home, realizing that if not Martin himself, then his daughter was truly grateful for her rescue by a stranger—the girl's father, it seemed, wanted to alleviate his guilt. Jorge didn't know if it was possible to somehow make up for all that Silva had done. Lost time couldn't be recovered, reputation couldn't be restored, dreams couldn't be resurrected.

So what did the judge really want to apologize for? Jorge looked at his wife, playing with Cheser, and pondered. Wasn't it time to tell Algra everything in detail?

Perhaps the insightful woman could advise him on what to do in this complex situation. When Cheser went to bed, Algra and Jorge sat down with a cup of tea, and without reservation, Jorge told her everything that had happened. He not only recounted how he ended up in prison and whose fault it was, but also what happened when he was driving home from work.

After that, Algra listened silently, her face displaying a range of emotions from tension and gloom to horror when she heard about the girl who was hit and whom Jorge helped. When her husband told her that by fate her father turned out to be the very judge who had once sentenced him, Algra gasped. He also openly told her about the beating, including how her insightful remark helped him realize that the two incidents were undoubtedly connected.

Jorge saw genuine surprise in his wife's eyes when he recounted tracking down the judge, but when he told her about their conversation, he realized that she never suspected him of planning anything cruel toward the judge. “You never cease to amaze me with your kindness, darling,” Algra said. “Even after everything that person did, you still acted honorably.

” "That's just who I am," Jorge replied. Algra sighed. “We can't change the past, and without what happened 15 years ago, I wouldn't have met you.

” He smiled, taking her hand. She responded in kind, and Jorge continued his tale. He concluded by placing a postcard before her, delivered by Martin Silva.

That evening, Algra sat silently for a long time, and from her eyes, Jorge could tell that she was contemplating something, examining the drawing on the postcard and the signature. Finally, she sighed and straightened her shoulders, resembling a serious and self-assured woman ready to go anywhere for her husband. “You know what, dear?

The girl expressed a desire to thank you in person. That already speaks volumes about her being much better than her father. Martin personally delivered this message to you, which means he has already realized how despicable he was to you.

You've been offered an olive branch, and personally, I believe you should accept it,” Algra said. “So tomorrow you'll call that judge and arrange a meeting. If necessary, I'm ready to go with you to support you.

” Jorge hugged his wife, grateful for having found such a woman. Fate had arranged his life in such a way that Algra saved him like an angel sent from above and continued to support him even when he didn't tell her all the details of what happened. She loved him in ways he hadn't even dreamed of.

The next morning, he called Martin Silva under Algra's attentive gaze. He listened to the proposal to meet and celebrate his daughter Mercedes' discharge from the hospital. Mercedes could be heard; she seemed delighted that her father found her savior and was eager to meet him personally.

In the end, it was decided to meet as families, and Jorge understood that it was perhaps the best option, as having children around would not only keep them in check but also ease the tension between the adults. Perhaps Jorge meeting Mercedes was more necessary for him than for her; he had been so worried about her when he took her to the hospital. To the surprise of Jorge and Algra, the judge invited them to his home, as if wanting to show them that he was willing to be in as vulnerable a position as Jorge had been when he showed up at his apartment with the postcard message.

Jorge understood other reasons that could have influenced this decision. Mercedes, although discharged from the hospital, still wore casts on her arm and leg, so being at home was more comfortable for her than worrying about looking awkward at a restaurant. Any conversations between the families might have been inappropriate in a public place.

When Jorge and his family arrived at Martin Silva's, he was initially still nervous and ashamed, but gradually the atmosphere lightened. Both Martin's wife, Anna, and his daughter, Mercedes, contributed to this. That evening, many toasts were raised to the girl's savior, and Jorge smiled awkwardly, seeing sincere gratitude from Anna, Martin, and Mercedes.

Their family was undoubtedly very glad that Jorge didn't stand aside during the unfolding events. Dinner, light and easy conversations predominated; women smiled, chatting about dresses and exhibitions, while the children quickly found common topics, and the men gradually got to know each other better. After dinner, Martin invited Jorge to his office for a private conversation.

"Let's talk alone," Martin nodded towards the door. "I have something I'd like to give you. " Jorge didn't object, and when they were in the office, he saw a thick folder with an envelope on top of it on the judge's desk.

"I understand that the past cannot be undone," said Martin, touching the folder and envelope, "but I managed to do something. Here is a document signed by me, acknowledging that my decision regarding your case was wrong. I attached some evidence of your innocence that was not considered in the past.

I know I acted abhorrently; I understand I've messed up, but your words made me truly reflect on how many lives I've ruined while chasing. . .

I don't even know why I did it anymore. Repentance is a heavy burden. " Jorge remarked grimly, "Sometimes, repentance can break a person.

" "Your forgiveness and everything you said to me won't go in vain, I promise you. I've seriously decided that I have no right to sit in the position of deciding others' fates anymore. I'm resigning.

" Jorge looked at the envelope. "And what will these papers give me? Time can't be brought back.

" "You see," Martin sighed, "these papers will allow you to clear your record. Maybe it won't give you back what I took away, but you'll no longer be a former convict and prisoner. You're wrongfully convicted now, and that means that the things that were out of reach for you when you were considered guilty of that crime will become available to you.

" Jorge didn't speak, but he couldn't believe those words. However, a week later, when he went to work, his boss approached him during a break. He announced that they had received new, updated documents indicating that Jorge had turned out to be a true hero, saving a child.

The factory management concluded that there was no better candidate for a promotion than Jorge. Previously, he was valued for his hard work and diligence at the workplace, but it was also noted that the thoughtful man often solved some issues himself to avoid bothering the management with emerging problems. This trait was essential for the new workshop manager, as the previous one retired, and they had long been looking for a replacement.

Jorge couldn't be promoted before because of his conviction; everyone was afraid it would negatively affect the factory's reputation, and some managers could also be against it. But since his conviction was overturned, he turned out to be the best candidate for the position. The man had always known that hard work and kindness could help in life, but now it paid off with interest.

All he did was not drive past an injured girl and help her in a difficult moment. Although Martin Silva, who had ruined his life, retired, they still kept in touch. The former judge, plagued by guilt, opened a small office with his own money, where he hired good lawyers who handled cases similar to Jorge's.

Perhaps Silva hadn't fully atoned for his past, but he tried very hard to do so. The recovered Mercedes helped him with this, showing every day by her example that being kind means being happy. Dear viewers, if you enjoyed the story, please support the video by liking it and leaving a comment.

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