I caught a shivering boy stealing bread. As I grabbed his arm, he sobbed, “Please don’t call the police, my brothers are starving and mom hasn’t woken up in two days.” skeptical, I followed him to his rundown apartment. When I pushed the bedroom door open, my heart froze…

I am Alejandra Castillo. I run one of the most formidable financial empires in Latin America, yet in the back of my luxury car, wrapped in Italian wool, I had never felt colder.

I ordered my driver to pull over at Mercado Estrella, a gleaming fortress of imported delicacies and exorbitant price tags. I needed a bottle of scotch—something peat-heavy continue reading …