Chapter 1 - THE QUESTION MARISOLCOULDN’T ESCAPE
Diego remained on one knee in the middle of the marble foyer.
Valentina stood in front of him with the tiny gold button resting in her palm.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Marisol could hear the old grandfather clock ticking from the library.
Each second felt louder than the last.
Diego finally stood.
His eyes never left Marisol.
“I asked you a question.”
Marisol tightened her hand around Valentina’s shoulder.
“Diego, please.”
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
That frightened her more than shouting would have.
“Three years.”
He swallowed.
“My daughter has been living under my roof for three years, and I didn’t know.”
Valentina looked up.
“Mommy?”
Marisol immediately crouched beside her.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
But Diego heard the fear in her voice.
He looked around the foyer.
Several members of the household staff had stopped working.
Everyone was pretending not to stare.
“Everyone out.”
The staff disappeared within seconds.
Diego turned toward his study.
“Marisol.”
She hesitated.
“Bring Valentina.”
Inside the study, Diego closed the door.
He stared at Marisol for a long moment.
Then he asked the question again.
“Is she mine?”
Marisol looked down.
That was enough.
Diego stepped backward as if something had struck him.
“My God.”
“Diego—”
“Say it.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
The word barely escaped her lips.
“Yes, Diego.”
His face changed.
“She’s yours.”
Diego turned away.
He pressed both hands against his desk.
For years, men twice his age had feared sitting across from him in negotiations.
He had bought companies while their owners begged for another week.
He had walked through financial disasters without losing his composure.
But now his shoulders trembled.
“When did you know?”
“Before she was born.”
He turned.
“And you said nothing?”
“I tried.”
Diego stopped.
Marisol slowly reached beneath the collar of her uniform.
She pulled out a thin chain.
A small silver key hung from it.
“I wrote to you.”
His expression hardened.
“What?”
“Seven letters.”
Diego stared at her.
“I never received a single letter.”
“I know.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because someone sent the last one back.”
Marisol’s voice became quieter.
“Unopened.”
Diego’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Marisol looked toward the ceiling.
Toward the second floor.
Toward the woman who had just walked upstairs.
But she shook her head.
“That happened before Paulina.”
Diego’s expression changed again.
“Then who?”
Marisol took a breath.
“Your mother.”
Silence.
Diego stared at her.
“My mother died two years ago.”
“I know.”
“You’re telling me my mother knew?”
Marisol nodded.
“She knew about Valentina before you did.”
Diego slowly sat down.
“No.”
“She came to see me.”
“When?”
“When I was seven months pregnant.”
His face drained of color.
Marisol remembered that afternoon perfectly.
The small apartment.
The rain against the windows.
Isabel Villaseñor standing at the door in a black coat.
The envelope she placed on the table.
The warning she delivered without raising her voice.
“She told me you were engaged.”
Diego looked up sharply.
“I wasn’t.”
“That’s what she told me.”
“To whom?”
Marisol hesitated.
“Paulina.”
Diego went completely still.
“She said your families had already decided.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“She told me you knew about the baby?”
Marisol nodded.
“And that you wanted nothing to do with us.”
Diego stood so suddenly the chair moved backward.
“I never knew.”
“I know that now.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I tried!”
Marisol’s voice finally broke.
Valentina startled.
Marisol immediately lowered her voice.
“I went to your office.”
Diego stared.
“Three times.”
She wiped her cheek.
“Security wouldn’t let me upstairs.”
Something cold entered Diego’s expression.
“Who was running security?”
Marisol didn’t answer immediately.
She didn’t have to.
Diego already knew.
His mother.
For decades, Isabel Villaseñor had controlled everything surrounding her only son.
His education.
His business contacts.
His social circle.
Even the women she considered appropriate for him.
Diego looked toward Valentina.
The child had climbed onto the leather sofa and was quietly playing with her stuffed rabbit.
Three years.
Three birthdays.
Three Christmas mornings.
Three years of bedtime stories.
Three years of scraped knees and first words.
Gone.
Stolen.
Diego approached her carefully.
“What does she know about her father?”
Marisol’s face crumpled.
“Nothing.”
Valentina suddenly looked up.
“Father?”
Diego stopped breathing.
Marisol closed her eyes.
Then came a knock.
Hard.
Three times.
Diego opened the door.
Paulina stood outside.
Her face was pale but controlled.
“You and I need to talk.”
“Later.”
“No.”
She stepped inside.
“This concerns me.”
Diego’s eyes hardened.
“It stopped concerning you when you tried to throw my daughter into the street.”
Paulina flinched.
Then she looked at Marisol.
And smiled.
It wasn’t a pleasant smile.
“Your daughter?”
She slowly removed her engagement ring.
Not to return it.
To examine it.
“You’re accepting this woman’s story without proof?”
Diego stared at her.
Paulina continued.
“She worked in your house for years.”
“She had access to photographs.”
“To family information.”
“To everything.”
Marisol stood.
“I have never asked Diego for anything.”
Paulina laughed softly.
“Not yet.”
Diego stepped between them.
“Enough.”
But Paulina wasn’t finished.
“If that child is truly yours, prove it.”
Silence filled the room.
Marisol looked at Diego.
Diego looked at Valentina.
Then he nodded.
“We will.”
Paulina’s smile disappeared.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Diego’s voice became cold.
“A DNA test.”
Paulina folded her arms.
“Good.”
She turned toward the door.
But before leaving, she looked back at Marisol.
For only a second.
And Marisol saw something disturbing in her eyes.
Not fear.
May you like
Calculation.
Paulina already had another plan.
