Renata whispered:
“He’s faking it.”
But I had stopped faking it weeks ago.
Inside the SUV, the driver handed me a thick envelope.
“The lawyer said I should see it before boarding.”
I opened it with steady hands.
Bank transfers. Deeds. Photographs. Pre-sale contracts for a luxury development in Santa Fe.
Mauricio appeared smiling next to Valeria, signing for a penthouse that, according to him, he could never have afforded.
The account highlighted in yellow chilled me to the bone.
Money from our marital partnership.
While I was cutting back on tuition expenses, he was buying a new life with another woman.
My cell phone vibrated.
Message from Mr. Escalante:
“They’re entering the clinic. Stay calm. Get on the plane.”
I looked out the window. Mexico City passed by, blurry, enormous, indifferent.
At that very moment, the Del Río family was walking toward a private room to celebrate Valeria and the baby they believed to be theirs.
They didn’t know that a single sentence, uttered by a doctor, was about to leave them breathless.
No one could imagine what was about to happen…
PART 2
The private clinic in Polanco looked more like a five-star hotel than a medical center. It had light marble floors, cream-colored armchairs, coffee served in small cups, and receptionists who spoke with an almost artificial softness.
The Del Río family loved places like that. There, they could feel important.
Valeria sat in a fitted beige dress, one hand resting on her barely visible belly. Beside her, Doña Amalia, Mauricio’s mother, gazed at her as if she were the Virgin of Guadalupe, stepped out of a painting.
“I know it’s a boy,” she said proudly. “I dreamt it three times.”
Renata arranged a bouquet of white roses for Valeria.
“Imagine when he’s born.” Dad would have been happy to see the Del Río name still going strong.
Mauricio stood by the window, answering messages, calm, almost victorious. He no longer had a wife. He no longer had arguments. He no longer had to come home early for homework, fevers, or school events.
He believed he had won.
When the nurse called Valeria, Mauricio went into the examination room with her. Doña Amalia wanted to come in too, but she was stopped with a professional smile.
“Only one companion, ma’am.”
The door closed.
Inside, Valeria lay down. Mauricio took her hand.
“Relax,” he told her. “In a few minutes, everyone will be toasting our son.”
Valeria smiled, but her lips trembled.
Dr. Padilla calmly began the ultrasound. He moved the transducer over her abdomen as the gray image appeared on the screen.
At first, everything seemed normal.
Until the doctor fell silent.
He moved the device once.
Then again.
Then he frowned slightly.
Mauricio noticed.
“Is something wrong?”
The doctor didn’t answer immediately. He glanced at the chart, looked back at the screen, and then pressed a button on the wall.
“Please send medical administration to room three.”
Valeria went pale.
“Administration? Why?”
Mauricio gritted his teeth.
“Doctor, tell us what’s going on.”
Dr. Padilla muted the monitor and spoke in an almost too calm voice.
“I need to confirm some information. The chart indicates that conception occurred approximately nine weeks ago.”
Valeria nodded quickly.
“Yes. Nine weeks.”
The doctor looked at her.
“The measurements don’t correspond to that date.”
Mauricio let out a nervous laugh.
“Well, these things can vary, can’t they?”
“Not really.”
The door opened and a woman in a blue suit entered, accompanied by a nurse. Outside, Doña Amalia and Renata were already too close not to hear.
“According to fetal development,” the doctor continued, “this pregnancy is at least sixteen weeks along.”
Silence fell like a stone.
Mauricio let go of Valeria’s hand.
“That can’t be.”
Valeria said nothing.
“You said it happened after the trip to Cancún,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
“Mauricio, please…”
“You said that baby was mine.”
Doña Amalia pushed open the door.
“What does this mean?”
The doctor took a deep breath.
“It means that the timeline presented doesn’t support the initial version.”
Renata put a hand to her mouth.
“Valeria…”
The perfect lover began to cry. She no longer looked elegant or confident. She looked like a child trapped in a lie that was too big.
“I was scared,” she said. “Mauricio promised me he was going to leave Isabel, but he was taking too long. I thought that if there was a baby…”
Mauricio recoiled as if he were disgusted by the thought of touching her.
“Who’s the father?”
Valeria cried harder.
“I don’t know.”
Doña Amalia paled.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“It was before Cancún,” Valeria sobbed. “I was confused. I had broken up with Rodrigo, and then I saw Mauricio again. I thought I could fix things.”
Mauricio let out a hollow laugh.
“Fix things? You made me destroy my marriage over a baby whose father you don’t even know?”
Outside, several employees were directing other patients. The scene
Continued on next page:
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