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 same moment, the Del Río family was walking toward a private room to celebrate Valeria and the baby they believed was theirs.
They didn’t know that a single sentence, spoken by a doctor, would 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, right?”
“Not that much.”
