Photo by Scott Foust Luis De La Cruz with his wife, Nataly, and their sons Sebastian ( left ) and Mateo ( right ).

T he soft-spoken man who helms boardrooms and inspires philanthropists still carries the imprint of a one-room adobe with no running water, no electricity and no bathroom. It was, Luis De La Cruz said, “the most challenging of economic conditions that one can picture.” But memory is a strange curator. “As a child, you don’t really understand your context,” he said. “Because frankly, maybe you shouldn’t. I remember mostly joy because of my ability to play, to be a kid.” Then came the rupture. The crossing from Mexico to the United States, the loss, the abandonment, the hunger — and his entry into the foster care system. His world tore into a before and an after. “There is a sense of loss that comes with sitting here and having this conversation,” he said. BY KAREN WERNER Luis De La Cruz conquered the corporate world, but a memory of two paths — his, and his brothers’ — led him back to the system that saved him. Now, as president & CEO of Arizona Friends of Foster Children Foundation, he has a singular mission: to help children like he once was. The Fortunate Son COVER STORY “One that is profound and one that doesn’t really fully ever heal, but it’s part of me. I can choose to let that limit me, or I can use it to propel me to do something better.” For De La Cruz, that propulsion has become a life’s work. As the president and CEO of Arizona Friends of Foster Children Foundation, he is one of the state’s most formidable advocates for its most vulnerable youth, recently named one of Phoenix Business Journal ’s 40 Under 40 honorees and a recipient of Valle del Sol’s Premio Liderazgo Comunitario for his community leadership. But his authority comes not from awards or degrees on his wall or businesses on his résumé, but from a truth he carries in his bones: the razor-thin line between security and desolation. It is the story of three brothers. FRONTDOORS MAGAZINE | 37