Adrian Villaseñor

Ignorance disguised as security
Mateo found an old fan.
—I'm going to turn it on.
He plugged it in.
The device made a strange noise and began to vibrate dangerously.
"I think he's going to die," Adrian said.
—Relax, dude, I know about technology.
The fan turned off just seconds later.
—Okay… maybe not.
Renata sighed dramatically.
—I miss my room. I miss my bathroom. I miss my life.
Adrian murmured:
—I miss when someone solved everything.
Therein lay the truth.
They never learned how to live because they never needed to.
The dynamic between them
Although they mocked each other and constantly swore, one thing was clear:
They were scared.
But none of them were going to admit it.
Instead of saying “I’m afraid”, they said:
—This is fucked up.
—What a fucking situation.
—Dad did go too far.
—We literally hit rock bottom.
His arrogance served as a shield.
They continued to behave like rich kids even without money, without a functional house and without comforts.
Because being a "mirrey" wasn't just about having wealth.
It was an identity.
The end of the first night
They settled in as best they could.
Without water.
With unstable light.
No air conditioning.
No employees.
No answers.
Renata slept on a blanket, protesting every five minutes.
Mateo fell asleep quickly, exhausted from doing nothing.
Adrian remained awake staring at the cracked ceiling.
They had never gone a single day without privileges.
And they were already completely lost.
Meanwhile, in the small room, Hector Villaseñor watched silently.
He knew exactly what he was seeing:
Three wealthy adults… who were just learning how to exist.

The true level of uselessness
Renata opened a bag looking for clean clothes.
—Well, at least I'm going to wash something because this smells awful.
He walked toward the backyard where there was an old cement washbasin.
She stared at him for several seconds.
—…And how does this work?
Adrian looked at her, confused.
—Well… you wash.
Renata frowned.
—Yes, genius, but how? Where do I put the button?
Mateo burst out laughing.
—No way, do you think it's a smart washing machine?
Renata ignored him.
—I've never washed clothes by hand, obviously.
Silence.
Because none of them had done it.
Not once.
There were always employees.
There was always service.
Someone always solved everything.
Adrian picked up a t-shirt, looked at it, then looked at the sink.
—In my opinion… you just add water… soap… and that’s it.
He turned the key.
Nothing.
Not a drop.
"Oh, well, that can't be done either," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Problem solved."
Chronic laziness
The heat was starting to feel heavy.
Mateo was lying on the sofa, slumped as if he had run a marathon.
—I'm exhausted.
Renata looked at him indignantly.
—What for? You literally just got into a taxi.
—Stress is tiring too, Renata.
Adrian paced back and forth trying to appear in control, although he clearly had no idea what to do.
It was the typical empty leadership of the "mirrey" (a derogatory term for a wealthy, privileged young man) who was used to giving orders without knowing how to execute them.
—Okay, calm down… I’m sure we’ll sort everything out tomorrow.
"What?" Renata asked. "Are you going to build the house all by yourself or what?"
Adrian ran his hand through his hair.
—Well… we'll see.
No one suggested cleaning.
No one looked for tools.
No one tried to fix anything.
They just complained.

The Villaseñor family's first night in the neighborhood
Not even twelve hours had passed since they left the mansion.
And it already seemed like an eternity.
The house was half-dark, warm, and uncomfortably quiet. The air didn't smell of scented candles or professional cleaning; it smelled of old dust and trapped dampness.
The three brothers were gathered in the living room, sitting without knowing what to do.
None of them had experienced anything remotely similar.
How the Villaseñor family spoke
The Villaseñor brothers were the perfect example of "mirreyes" (a derogatory term for wealthy, privileged young men).
Their way of speaking mixed exaggerated confidence, constant complaints, and a carefree tone that made it clear they had never had any real problems.
Adrián was the first to break the silence:
—No way… this is heavy, I mean, it literally looks like a scene from a cheap horror movie.
Mateo was checking his cell phone, which had no signal.
—Dude, I don't even have any data… how am I supposed to survive like this? What's next? Hunt for our food or what?
Renata walked around the room looking at everything with genuine horror.
—This is not living… this is social punishment.
They spoke quickly, with that relaxed and slightly nasal tone typical of those who had always belonged to privileged circles.
They used words like:
dude
guy
literal
I mean
How embarrassing!
no way
It's awful.
zero vibes
But behind the relaxed style there was something more obvious:
They didn't know how to do absolutely anything.

Adrian's feeling
Adrian went out to the small backyard.
He looked around.
Neighbors sat outside chatting quietly. A boy ran past chasing a ball. A woman watered plants with a hose while watching him curiously.
Nobody was impressed.
Nobody knew that he had lived among millions.
For the first time in his life, Adrián was not “Adrián Villaseñor”.
He was just another young man arriving at an old house in a humble neighborhood.
And as the sun began to set behind the uneven roofs, he understood something he still couldn't accept:
The real problem wasn't the dilapidated house.
It was that they had no idea how to live in it.

The attempt to use water
After the trip, Renata went straight to the bathroom.
Seconds later, his voice was heard from the hallway:
—THERE IS NO WATER!
Adrian opened another tap in the kitchen.
Nothing.
Just a hollow noise inside the pipes.
The sink was dry, stained by time. Not a drop came out.
Mateo tried the sink in the other bathroom.
Nothing.
The house did not have an active power supply.
There was no water to bathe in.
There was no water for cleaning.
Not even for a drink.
The silence that followed was awkward.
For the first time, the three brothers understood something simple but devastating:
They weren't on vacation.
It was not a stylish, temporary experience.
This was starting from scratch.
The first impression of the home
The house had:
paint peeling off the walls,
fine cracks in the ceiling,
old fans full of dust,
small rooms compared to their former dressing rooms,
an old, unplugged refrigerator,
windows that didn't close properly.
It was functional… in theory.
But it needed work, effort, and time.
Things the Villaseñor family had never had to invest in personally.

Grandma Carmen's house
The supposed new home was at the end of a quiet street.
The house was small, one story, probably built more than forty years ago. The metal gate was covered in rust and creaked loudly when Hector pushed it.
The front garden was no longer a garden.
It was dry land with uncontrolled grass.
An old, broken flowerpot remained in the entrance, as if someone had left one day intending to return soon.
Adrian vaguely remembered coming there as a child… when his grandmother was still alive and the place smelled of home-cooked food and soap.
Now it smelled of neglect.
The interior
As I opened the front door, a cloud of dust floated into the air.
The silence was heavy.
The furniture was still there:
an old sofa sunken in the middle,
a wooden table marked by the years,
crooked family photographs on the wall,
yellowish curtains that barely let the light through.
The floor creaked when walking.
Renata covered her nose.
—This can't be real…
Mateo tried to joke, but even he couldn't hide his discomfort.
Hector walked to the switch.
Click.
The ceiling light flickered for barely a second.
And two spotlights burned out instantly, leaving the room in near darkness.
A dry sound, followed by partial darkness.
"Perfect…" Adrian murmured, incredulous.
The electrical system had clearly gone years without maintenance.

The city from another perspective
Adrian had always seen the city from above: panoramic windows, private terraces, helicopters, cars with tinted windows.
Here the city felt different.
More realistic.
Noisier.
More alive.
The slanted lampposts barely illuminated the streets at night. There were small shops on the corners with metal grilles, mechanics' workshops open late, and children playing soccer in the middle of the pavement as if the cars were mere temporary interruptions.
There was no valet parking.
There was no private security.
There was no exclusivity.
Just everyday life.

The place the Villaseñor family arrived at
The taxi stopped in an area that none of the three children would have visited of their own volition.
It was an old neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, far from the financial districts, upscale shopping malls, and modern avenues where Adrián's life had once unfolded. There, the streets had no elegant names or perfectly aligned trees; they were narrow, uneven streets with broken sidewalks and electrical wires crisscrossing the sky like black cobwebs.
The region had a hot, dry air. Dust rose every time a car passed, and the dominant sound wasn't sports car engines or music from fine restaurants, but:
dogs barking behind rusty bars,
neighbors chatting from their doorways,
street vendors shouting their product advertisements,
televisions turned on that could be heard from the street.
The houses were small, crammed together, built over decades without a uniform design. Some were painted in bright colors already faded by the sun; others showed exposed cement blocks.
It was a place where everyone seemed to know each other.
And where nobody knew who the Villaseñor family were.

Younger brother — Mateo Villaseñor Montiel
Age: 23 years
Personality
Mateo is the most relaxed and carefree.
Fun.
Charming.
Chronic irresponsible.
Avoid conflicts and responsibilities.
Live in the present without thinking about the consequences.
He spent his days playing video games, taking impromptu trips, and working on projects he never finished. He always assumed the family money would last forever.
He is the least arrogant… but also the least prepared for real life.
Relationship with Adrian
Adrián unconsciously adopts the role of a protective older brother, even though they are only two years apart.
She scolds him, criticizes him, and gets frustrated with him… but she is also the one who defends him first.
Mateo, for his part, genuinely admires Adrián and believes that he knows what he's doing, even though many times neither of them has a clue.
Family dynamics before the “collapse”
They lived in the same house, but they hardly ever saw each other.
Each one had their own schedule, social circle, and independent life.
Family gatherings were rare and formal.
Money prevented real conflicts.
They were adults living under the same surname, not a united family.

Mother — Elena Montiel de Villaseñor (deceased)
Age at death: 45 years
He died 10 years ago.
Personality
Elena was the emotional heart of the family.
Elegant yet warm.
Loving and protective.
He tried to teach humility to his children despite their wealth.
She was the only one capable of contradicting Hector without fear.
She organized mandatory family dinners, phone-free holidays, and normal moments within an extraordinary life.
His sudden death from illness left a huge void.
After her:
Hector became distant.
The children began to live virtually without emotional supervision.
Money replaced coexistence.
Adrián still keeps voice messages from his mother and avoids listening to them because they make him feel vulnerable.
She was the only person in front of whom Adrián didn't need to put on a show.
Older sister — Renata Villaseñor Montiel
Age: 27 years
Personality
Renata is sophisticated, intelligent, and extremely social.
Elegant and commanding.
Public relations expert without a real job.
Obsessed with image and status.
Sarcastic and direct.
Accustomed to solving everything with charm.
She lived a life of fashion events, travel, and exclusive circles. She never held a formal job; she claimed to be an image consultant, though no one knew exactly what she did.
Relationship with Adrian
They are natural allies.
They understand each other without speaking because they both love to project an image of success. They constantly compete to see who stands out more socially, but they also protect each other when someone from the outside criticizes them.
Renata usually tells Adrián the truth without filters: —You're just like Dad… but without having done anything yet.
Deep down, that's the person whose opinion matters most to him.

Father — Hector Ignacio Villaseñor Rivas
Age: 58 years
Profession: Multimillionaire businessman (real estate, finance and hotel sectors)
Personality
Hector is an extremely intelligent, strategic, and disciplined man. His presence commands immediate respect; he speaks little, observes much, and rarely loses his composure.
Absolute perfectionist.
He firmly believes that effort defines a person's worth.
Cold in appearance, but deeply protective.
Express affection through financial provision, not emotions.
Calculating even in family matters.
After his wife's death, he threw himself completely into his work. He never remarried nor pursued any significant public relations. For him, his wife was unique, and replacing her seemed impossible.
For years she thought that giving her children everything was the best way to take care of them… until she realized that she was leaving them empty.
The fake bankruptcy scenario was his most difficult decision as a father.
Relationship with Adrian
Adrian has always sought her approval.
From childhood, he imitated the way his father walked, talked, and dressed. He believes that becoming successful means being like Hector, even though he has never understood the effort behind true success.
Hector sees leadership potential in Adrian… but also arrogance and dependency.
They don't usually hug.
They don't talk about feelings.
Their conversations resemble executive meetings.
However, Adrián is the son who most resembles him, and they both know it.

There were no gourmet dinners that night.
They ate stale bread they found in a nearby store.
Adrian slept on a hard mattress, listening to dogs barking, neighbors talking loudly, and motorcycles passing by.
He couldn't sleep.
For the first time in his life, nobody treated him like he was important.
Nobody knew who he was.
Nobody was impressed.
He looked at the cracked ceiling and thought about everything he had lost.
What Adrian didn't know…
It meant that nothing was lost.
Businesses continued operating.
The accounts were not empty.
There were no investigations.
It was all a plan carefully designed by Hector Villaseñor.
For years she watched her children grow up unable to survive without money. She saw their arrogance, their dependence, their emptiness.
And she decided to do the one thing she had never done before:
being a father.
I wanted them to learn to live without a last name, without privileges, and without money.
I wanted them to understand the value of effort.
I wanted them to discover who they were when no one admired them.
As Adrian fell asleep frustrated and confused, Hector watched silently from the small room.
He knew his children would hate him at first.
But he also knew something else.
That ruined house would be the place where, for the first time in their lives, the Villaseñor family would learn to start from scratch.

The taxi stopped in front of a small house, hidden among humble homes in an old neighborhood.
The paint was peeling.
The rusty gate.
A window covered with boards.
It took Adrian several seconds to understand.
—No… it can't be.
It was the old house of his grandmother Carmen, who had died years before. A place of which he had only vague childhood memories.
The taxi driver took out his few suitcases.
—That's 92 pesos.
None of the children were carrying cash.
Hector paid with coins.
Coins.
Adrian felt something inside him break.
They entered.
The interior was worse.
Accumulated dust.
Furniture covered with yellowish sheets.
The ceiling had cracks.
There was dampness on the walls.
A light bulb was flickering dimly.
Renata almost cried.
—Are we going to live here?
Hector nodded.
—For a while.
There was no air conditioning.
There were no domestic servants.
There was no chef.
There was no security.
Only silence.
And reality.

Hector Villaseñor summoned his three children to an urgent family dinner at the main mansion.
That was already strange.
Even stranger was seeing him without a suit, without bodyguards, without his usual impeccable calm.
His face looked tired. Really tired.
When everyone was seated, he placed a folder on the table.
—We're in trouble.
Nobody laughed.
Hector explained that several financial investigations were underway. Lawsuits, frozen accounts, potential legal charges. Companies collapsing one after another.
"They could come for us," he said gravely. "We need to disappear for a while."
Adrian felt something unfamiliar: fear.
"Disappear? What do you mean, disappear?" he asked, incredulous.
-Tonight.
Without bodyguards.
Driverless.
Without excessive luggage.
Only what is necessary.
Thirty minutes later, the four of them were standing in front of the mansion's gate… waiting.
An old yellow taxi stopped in front of them.
A taxi.
Adrian looked at the vehicle as if it were a joke.
—Dad… this is temporary, right?
Hector opened the back door without answering.
And for the first time in his life, Adrián Villaseñor got into a regular taxi, sharing a seat with his brothers, smelling the scent of worn fabric and gasoline.
Renata was horrified.
Mateo kept asking if they were being followed.
Adrian was checking his cell phone… no private signal, no automatic WiFi, no privileges.
As the taxi moved towards increasingly less elegant areas, the city seemed to transform.
The bright buildings disappeared.
The wide avenues became narrow streets.
The elegant lights were replaced by yellowish bulbs.
"Where are we going?" Adrian asked.
Hector replied:
-Home.

For twenty-five years, Adrián Alejandro Villaseñor Montiel never knew the word limitation.
He was born in a luxury private hospital in Mexico City, surrounded by imported flowers and journalists discreetly invited by his father, Héctor Villaseñor, one of the most powerful businessmen in the country. From a young age, Adrián learned that the world operated through money, connections, and the right last name.
His childhood was spent between huge houses, holidays in Europe, birthdays on yachts and international schools where problems were solved with bank transfers and calls from lawyers.
His father was an almost mythological figure.
He wasn't a cruel man, but he was distant. Héctor Villaseñor was always busy: meetings, acquisitions, unexpected trips, economic conferences. To see him, even his own children had to speak with Laura, his personal assistant.
—Mr. Villaseñor is available on Thursday at 6:40 p.m. for fifteen minutes—she said with complete normality.
And so Adrián, his younger brother Mateo, and his sister Renata grew up: with everything… except real attention.
They were never taught how to cook.
They never used public transport.
They never worked.
They never needed to make an effort.
Adrián became an expert at faking success. He posted photos in front of cars he didn't pay for, talked about investments he didn't understand, and attended business meetings simply because his last name opened doors.
In his mind, he was already a successful man.
Until that night.

Outfit:
Tailor-made suits even if you don't have your own office.
Luxury watches that change depending on the event.
Shirts unbuttoned one or two buttons to appear confident.
Dark glasses even indoors.
Exclusive tennis shoes or Italian loafers.
She never repeats an outfit at important social events.
Tastes:
Sports cars and showing them off on social media.
Private parties and exclusive nightclubs.
Travel in first class or a private jet.
Restaurants that are expensive more for the photo than for the food.
Surround yourself with influential people.
Talking about business that you don't really understand.
The gym and looking successful on Instagram.
Dislikes:
Someone needs to remind him that he doesn't work.
Humble people who are not impressed by money.
Public transport.
Waiting for turns or standing in lines.
Let them compare him to truly successful people.
The word “privileged”.

Name: Adrián Alejandro Villaseñor Montiel
Age:
25 years
Nationality:
Mexican
Family history:
Adrián is the son of Héctor Villaseñor, a billionaire businessman who owns a huge real estate and financial conglomerate in Mexico. His father is almost never around; he lives a life of private flights, international meetings, and exclusive events.
In order to see him, Adrián and his brothers literally have to make an appointment with Mr. Villaseñor's personal assistant, something he boasts about as if it were normal.
Although they grew up surrounded by luxury, neither Adrián nor his siblings have ever worked. They all live off the family money and avoid any real responsibility.
Personality:
Extremely conceited and proud.
He loves to pretend to be successful even though he has never earned money on his own.
Charismatic when he wants something.
Superficial and obsessed with social image.
Impulsive and somewhat emotionally immature.
Competitive with his brothers for attention and status.
He believes that respect is obtained with money and connections.
She has a secret fear of disappointing her father.
Typical phrase: “It’s not presumption, it’s a lifestyle.”
Appearance:
Height: 1.83 m
Athletic build (thanks to the gym, not work effort).
Light brown skin.
Black hair, always perfectly styled.
Short, well-defined beard.
A confident smile that borders on arrogant.
She always smells like expensive perfume.