Chapter 7 - THE BABY I HAD HELD
At first, I thought Lucia was confused.
Then she sent me a photograph.
I stared at my phone until my vision blurred.
It was me.
Nine years younger.
Standing inside Claudia’s old apartment.
Holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket.
Lucia.
I remembered the day.
Claudia had told me the baby belonged to her cousin.
Her cousin was supposedly struggling with postpartum depression, so Claudia had agreed to babysit.
I held Lucia for nearly an hour.
She slept against my chest.
I remembered telling Alejandro that evening how peaceful it felt to hold a baby.
We had struggled with infertility for several years by then.
I cried in the car afterward.
Alejandro held my hand and said:
“Someday.”
Now I knew he had watched me cradle his daughter.
His daughter with my best friend.
The cruelty was so precise I almost couldn’t understand it.
Lucia sent another picture.
Alejandro holding her at age three.
Another at age five.
Another at seven.
He had been in her life the entire time.
Not an occasional secret.
A father.
I called Rebecca immediately.
She told me to stop communicating directly with Lucia because the child should not be placed in the middle.
I agreed.
But before ending the call, Lucia said:
“There’s something weird.”
“What?”
“Dad told Mom to get a blue folder from Grandma’s closet.”
“Which grandma?”
“Your husband’s mom.”
Teresa Vance.
Alejandro’s mother.
The woman whose failing Indiana carpentry workshop I had been supporting for twelve years.
The woman who called me daughter.
The woman who sent flowers before my surgery.
“Did he say what was in it?”
“No.”
Then Lucia whispered:
“Dad said you can’t find it.”
My stomach tightened.
I ended the conversation gently and called Rebecca.
Within hours, she started checking whether Teresa had been involved in any financial structures linked to Alejandro.
The first answer came through company records.
Vance Strategic Holdings had originally been registered using the address of Teresa and Miguel’s carpentry workshop.
I felt betrayed all over again.
“Do they know?”
“We don’t know.”
I called Teresa myself.
She answered on the second ring.
“Camila! Oh my God, sweetheart, how are you feeling?”
Her concern sounded real.
That made everything harder.
“I’m recovering.”
“Thank God.”
“Teresa, what is the blue folder?”
Silence.
Complete.
Immediate.
She knew.
“What folder?”
“Don’t.”
My voice remained calm.
“I just had my skull opened. I don’t have energy for another person lying to me.”
She began crying.
“Camila…”
“What did Alejandro ask you to hide?”
“He said it was business paperwork.”
“Do you still have it?”
Silence.
“Teresa.”
“Yes.”
My pulse jumped.
“Do not give it to him.”
“Why?”
“Because my attorney needs to see it.”
She started sobbing harder.
“I didn’t know about Claudia until last year.”
I closed my eyes.
Last year.
Not nine years.
Still another betrayal.
“You knew he had a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“He begged us. He said he would tell you after your surgery.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He told me before surgery because he thought I might die.”
Teresa cried.
Then said:
“Camila, there’s something in that folder with your father’s name on it.”
My heart stopped.
My father had been dead for seven years.
“What?”
“A letter.”
“From my father?”
“No.”
May you like
Her next words made me stand despite the dizziness.
“It’s a contract Alejandro signed about your inheritance.”
