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Chapter 6 - The Exodus-6

"I am leaving you, Rodrigo," I said, my voice echoing clearly in the stunned room. "And I am taking our daughter."

Rodrigo frantically scrambled to his feet, reaching out to touch Lucía’s little hand, but my mother stepped in front of him, gently but firmly pushing his arm away.

"Daniela, no! You can't do this!" Rodrigo pleaded, tears streaming unhindered down his face. "She's my daughter! I love her!"

"You doubted her existence as your child because your mother told you to," I said, looking him straight in the eye without a shred of pity left in my heart. "You let her hold a glass in front of fifty people and question whether Lucía was yours. You didn't defend her. You didn't defend me. You stood there and waited for me to break so you could play the tragic victim."

"I was stupid! I was weak!" he begged, dropping his hands to his sides. "I'll do whatever you want! I'll cut my mother off! I'll give up my seat on the board! Just don't take Lucía away from me!"

"You won't have to give up your seat on the board, Rodrigo," Uncle Mateo interjected cold-bloodedly from across the table. "Because as of tomorrow morning, the board will convene an emergency meeting to suspend your executive powers pending a full DNA audit of your line of succession. If you are not Guillermo's legal biological heir, your shares are frozen."

Rodrigo looked as if he had been struck by lightning. He looked from Mateo to his mother, who was sitting motionless in her chair, weeping quietly into her hands.

"Mom... say something!" Rodrigo yelled at her. "Tell them something!"

"She can't save you, Rodrigo," I said quietly. "She couldn't even save herself."

I adjusted Lucía on my hip. My little girl rested her chin on my shoulder, letting out a soft, sleepy yawn. She was completely oblivious to the war that had just ended around her, safe in the arms of the mother who had fought for her honor.

My father picked up my bag and handed it to me, while my mother wrapped a protective arm around my waist. Together, the three of us began walking toward the double oak doors of the grand ballroom.

"Daniela! Wait!" Rodrigo ran after us, but two of the venue's security guards—who had been hired by Teresa to ensure I didn't cause a scene—ironically stepped in front of Rodrigo, blocking his path.

"Sir, please remain calm," one of the guards said sternly.

"Get out of my way! That's my wife! That's my baby!" Rodrigo screamed, fighting against the guards' grip.

I stopped at the doorway and turned around one last time. The room was an utter wreck. Socialites were whispering rapidly, taking photos of Teresa sitting defeated in her ruined dress. Paulina was furiously making phone calls to her legal team in the corner. Rodrigo was sobbing in the arms of security guards, his life utterly shattered.

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"Happy first birthday, Lucía," I whispered softly into my daughter's ear.

Then, I turned my back on the Aranda family, walked out into the cool evening air, and didn't look back.

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