“I didn’t marry Eduardo to change diapers,” Renata said, with an icy smile. “I married him for the three hundred million he has in the bank. He’s signing the papers to put the children in a care facility on Monday. After that, we’ll send them away and get on with our lives.”
When the video ended, Mariana stared at the black screen, trembling.
She had the proof. But she was also certain that a poor girl against expensive lawyers, influential friends, and a fiancée who was an expert at pretending, wasn’t exactly a fair fight.
That afternoon he went to the cemetery where Ariana rested. He sat on the cold ground in front of the crooked cement cross and began to speak to her in a low voice, like when they were children and shared secrets.
“I couldn’t save you,” he whispered. “I had no money, no time, nothing. And now there are three children who could be left just as alone as you, and once again I have nothing.”
She cried until she was dry.
And, just when he was about to give up, he felt the weight of the USB drive in his pocket.
She recalled Doña Magali’s words: “Don’t stay silent.”
She stood up, angrily wiped away her tears, and made a decision: even if no one believed her, even if they kicked her out, even if they threw her in jail, she wasn’t going to let Renata get away with it.
On Monday, at ten in the morning, Eduardo had to sign the papers to admit the triplets. He had less than 48 hours left.
She spent Sunday planning, and at the same time, knowing that her plan was as fragile as she was: she would simply arrive at the mansion before the lawyer, knock on the front door, and demand to speak with Eduardo. She had no strategy other than her own determination.
Monday dawned gray. When Mariana got off the truck in Lomas, it started to rain.
The Mirador del Cielo mansion stood as imposing as the first night, but it no longer intimidated her so much. She knew that inside, behind all that perfection, lay secrets far too sordid.
She rang the doorbell at the front door. The guard came out when he saw her and frowned.
—We told you not to come back.
“I need to speak with Mr. Belmonte,” she said. “It’s about his children.”
—He’s going to sign something very important, he can’t—
Mariana stuck her foot in before it closed.
“If you don’t let me through,” she warned, with a firmness that surprised even herself, “I’m going to scream. And I swear I’m going to make such a scene that it’ll be all over the news: ‘Millionaire throws out the only woman who wants to defend his children.’ Is that really what you want?”
The guard hesitated.
And in that shattering silence, it was heard again: the cry of the triplets, loud, desperate, falling from the floor above like a plea.
In the room, Eduardo sat at a table covered with papers. Beside him were the lawyer Camilo Valdés and Dr. Salazar. Across from him, Renata, impeccably dressed in a cream-colored pantsuit, smiled sweetly.
“All that’s missing is your signature, love. It’s for the best for them,” she whispered.
Then the crying was heard.
And, a few seconds later, the guard poked his head out.
—Sir… Miss Mariana Romero is at the door. She says it’s urgent.
Renata became rigid.
—This can’t be! Get her out, call the police, no—
—Wait —said Eduardo, without taking his eyes off the papers.
The babies’ crying intensified, as if they knew that the only person who had truly heard them was there.
He closed his eyes for a moment. The doubts he had buried under layers of guilt and fear began to surface, stubbornly.
“Let her through,” he ordered.
Renata almost screamed.
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