His gaze flicked to Mateo, then back to me, like he didn’t know where to put his hands or his guilt.
“Lucía…” he stammered. “Lucía doesn’t know Mateo is yours and mine. And someone just sent her a photo of the baby. She called me crying, saying I’m a liar. The wedding is in three days. If she finds out from anyone else, she’ll leave… and I’ll lose everything.”
Lose everything.
The words hit me like an insult so loud it didn’t need volume.
“Lose everything?” I whispered. My throat tightened with anger. “And what about me? What about our son?”
Álvaro took a step closer, desperate, voice breaking into pleading.
“Help me fix this, Sofía,” he begged. “I’m serious. Because if you don’t, Lucía is going to come here and make a scene. She’s already on her way.”
I stared at him, stunned by the audacity.
He wasn’t here for Mateo.
He wasn’t here because his child had entered the world.
He was here because his perfect new life was cracking… and he needed me to patch it.
And the worst part?
My body was too tired to scream.
But my mind was suddenly razor sharp.
Because in that moment, with my baby sleeping beside me and my ex husband begging like I owed him anything at all, I realized something terrifying:
Someone had sent Lucía that photo on purpose.
And whatever was coming next… wasn’t going to end at the wedding.
You stare at Álvaro like he’s a stranger who broke into the wrong life. His hair is a mess, his voice is shaking, and his panic smells like cheap cologne and collapsing plans. He keeps looking at your newborn as if Mateo is a bomb that might go off if someone says the wrong sentence.
And you’re exhausted, stitched, swollen, and furious.
You press a hand to your abdomen where the pain pulses like a warning and you whisper, “You came here for yourself.” Your voice is quiet, but it has teeth. “Not for him. Not for me.”
Álvaro flinches. “Sofía, please,” he says, glancing toward the hallway. “Lucía is on her way. If she makes a scene here, it’ll destroy everything.”
You laugh once, dry and sharp. “Good,” you say. “Let it.”
His eyes widen. He steps closer and lowers his voice like that makes him less selfish. “You don’t understand. There are contracts tied to this wedding. Her father is investing in my company. If she leaves, I’m done.”
You look at Mateo’s tiny chest rising and falling in perfect innocence, and you feel something inside you settle. A new kind of clarity, the kind motherhood forces on you. You don’t have room for someone else’s chaos anymore.
“Oh, I understand,” you tell him. “You’re not afraid of losing Lucía. You’re afraid of losing the money attached to her.”
Álvaro opens his mouth to deny it, then shuts it because he knows you’ve seen him too clearly for years. You remember the marriage, the way he always turned love into leverage, how every apology came with a request.
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