The black car stopped beside Isabel on the sidewalk like something sent by a world that had noticed her falling apart.

“I believe so.”

She pressed one hand to her stomach. “They did not even know.”

“No,” Don Ernesto said. “And that may be the only mercy left. You have time to decide when they learn.”

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Isabel looked at him through tears.

“If I tell him, he will say I trapped him.”

“Perhaps.”

“If I don’t, he will say I hid his child.”

“Perhaps.”

“So either way, I lose.”

Don Ernesto leaned forward.

“No, Isabel. You lost the illusion that fairness arrives by itself. Now you choose strategy.”

The word landed strangely.

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Strategy.

Not revenge.

Not humiliation.

Not begging.

Strategy.

In the morning, Don Ernesto introduced her to his attorney, Marta Luján, a sharp-eyed woman with silver glasses and no patience for sentimental confusion. Marta reviewed the divorce papers Rodrigo had given Isabel and immediately tapped one page with her pen.Office Supplies

“This is insulting.”

Isabel blinked. “What is?”

“He offers you nothing and demands silence. He describes the marriage as childless, failed due to irreconcilable differences, with no pending family obligations. Did you sign anything?”

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“No.”Family

“Good.”

Then Marta looked at the ultrasound photo.

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