I was born with the mark of bad luck in my life. I come from a wealthy family that owns a line of coffee products, my parents actually built a coffee empire and our days were spent laughing, playing games and picking beans.

I am the only child of this marriage that unfortunately, both lost their lives in a car accident when I was only 7 years old. I was left in the care of my great-uncle, the only survivor of our unfortunate misfortune.

When my great-uncle was given custody of me, he decided that the nuns of a small boarding school in Europe should take care of my education, so I took my things and left for the other side of the world while he was left in charge of the fortune he had inherited.

The only thing I shared with that man who had part of my DNA was a brief phone call every Christmas Eve to wish me a Merry Christmas and tell me that it was better to stay another year at the boarding school so as not to spend so much money on my transfer.

I grew fond of the sisters who raised me, they became my family over the years. I learned many things about finance, commerce, administration, design and most importantly things of daily life. I became a woman.

2 days before my 18th birthday, sister Anna gave me the news that my uncle had passed away. I traveled home after such a long time and still felt that everything was familiar and nostalgia squeezed my chest.

Everything was the same but worn out by time. The mansion had no more than 3 servants, which was not enough for good maintenance so everything was dusty and messy, but at the end of the day it was my home and I was so happy to be home that I didn't mind that.

The joy was short-lived. I walked into the mansion office and found that the family business was in the red. The wretched great-uncle had let himself be consumed by alcoholism and vagrancy and had thrown away everything my parents had worked so hard to build up.

The bills exceeded even the value of what little was left in the mansion and at that moment I panicked. Once again bad luck was stalking me.

One of the servants told me that the year's coffee production was still full and that the beans were in sacks stored in the cellar. I was taken to the place and the musty, musty smell permeated my nose as soon as they opened the door, I swear I almost vomited.

Sacks and sacks of coffee beans piled up. I felt terrible, especially since I was broke and couldn't afford to throw it all away.

Among the sacks I could see some kind of plant. I went over to look and they were bright red mushrooms with white polka dots. Had it not been for the fact that they were ruining the only thing left of my heritage, I would have been happy to admire them.

I left the place in disgust and went to my office to think of a marketing strategy to get rid of the ruin. Night came and I was feeling tired so I went to the basement and brought a handful of the musty stale coffee beans and without realizing it, they came with one of the mushrooms.

As I roasted and ground it, I remembered my parents' laughter and my games as we worked in the black gold, as my mother used to say.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, no one but the coffee was witness to those days of joy and happiness. While the coffee pot brewed the precious liquid, sadness invaded me with an inevitable tremor.

With a deep pain in my chest I poured a steaming cup of coffee and the smell filled the whole office, I could see my parents dancing by the fireplace, I looked out the window and there was my dog playing all over the garden.

My sadness was gone and I was invaded by a great energy that made me feel alive and active. With that enthusiasm and energy I got up and put my idea into action.

"Café fiesta, happiness and family love in one cup of coffee."

The next morning, I called the media and announced the new coffee brand. By the day of the product launch I already had many interested investors and the coffee shops in the city filled their shelves with my coffee.

People felt happy, alive and depression ceased to exist. Everyone was living better thanks to my product. Mold and fungus became the perfect mix and made me the youngest and most successful coffee producer in the region.

For years they have pursued me to know the secret of the coffee fiesta. But the musty basement full of those beautiful red mushrooms continues to be the guardian of my great secret, while I continue to respond to the media that Café Fiesta coffee is simply a stroke of luck.