Alejandro’s jaw tightened. “The photograph says to test the child. Which child?”
Grant looked at him.
“You.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Alejandro gave a hollow laugh. “To prove she is not my mother?”
“To prove something else.”
Grant placed a second envelope on the blanket.
The report confirmed that Alejandro was Mateo Ruiz’s biological son.
But under maternal comparison, the name was not Victoria Ruiz.
It was Sofía Herrera.
Alejandro’s face went blank. “Sofía was my mother’s younger sister. She died before I was born.”
“No,” Grant said softly. “She died three days after you were born.”
The truth arrived piece by piece.
Sofía had worked as an accountant at Ruiz Aeronautics and discovered the first fraudulent transfers. During the investigation, she and Mateo began a relationship. Victoria, already married to Mateo but unable to have children, learned that Sofía was pregnant.
After Sofía gave birth, Victoria took the infant and presented him publicly as her own. Records were altered. A private physician signed false documents. Mateo allowed the lie to stand temporarily while he gathered evidence and tried to protect his son.
Three months later, he died.
“My whole life,” Alejandro whispered, “she told me she sacrificed everything to become my mother.”
I squeezed his hand. “She stole your beginning, then tried to steal our daughter’s future.”
Two weeks later, our daughter decided she would not wait for the investigation to end.
Labor began at dawn during a thunderstorm. For eleven hours, the world narrowed to pain, breath, Alejandro’s voice, and the relentless monitor beside me.
Then, at 6:14 in the evening, our daughter arrived.