“Will you take responsibility for every moment of suffering you inflicted on me... all because you thought I was Vasquez’s daughter? Because you believed your hatred and punishments were justified?”
“When the truth hits—that I’m not his child, that everything you did was based on lies—will you face what you’ve done?”
“I never carried his blood. I am not his daughter. And he’s still alive... ready to be found.”
The silence stretched between us, thick and unbearable.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost broken.
“Elena... I already regret every bit of pain and suffering I caused you. More than you could ever imagine. I don’t expect your forgiveness. Hell... I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself.”
A painful smirk twisted my lips.
Without another word, I pushed the door open.
The moment it clicked shut behind me, the dam broke.
Hot tears flooded down my cheeks, blurring the corridor into streaks of light and shadow.
I didn’t care who saw me.
I didn’t care about dignity, pride, or appearances anymore.
All I wanted was to get away from him.
“Elena!”
Renzo’s voice echoed from the far end of the hall.
Sharp. Concerned.
“Elena—wait—”
My body moved faster than my thoughts, half-running, half-stumbling down the corridor, past the portraits, past the cold walls that suddenly felt like they were closing in.
I barely made it to my room.
The door slammed behind me with a force that rattled the frame.
And then—
My strength gave out.
I slid down the wood slowly, my back scraping against it until I hit the floor.
The moment I did—
The sobs tore free.
Raw. Broken.
The kind that ripped through your chest and made every breath hurt.
I pressed a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t help.
Nothing helped.
Because the one thing I needed—
