Meanwhile, Marco’s new fiancée, Clarissa—a sweet-looking woman obsessed with luxury—was welcomed into the Dela Cruz household like a queen.
He got everything he wanted.
When there were guests, my former mother-in-law would proudly introduce her:
“This is the woman who will give us the son who will inherit our business.”
I didn’t respond.
I didn’t even feel anger.
I simply trusted in time.
Time always ends up revealing who is who.
A few months later, I gave birth in a small public hospital in Cebu.
A little girl—perfectly healthy, with eyes as bright as a sunrise.
When I took her in my arms, all the pain I had been carrying disappeared at once.
I didn’t care at all that I wasn’t “the son” they wanted.
I was alive. I was mine. And that was all that mattered.
A few weeks later, a former neighbor sent me a message: Clarissa had also given birth.
The entire Dela Cruz family was celebrating, with balloons, banners, and banquets.
His long-awaited “heir” had finally arrived.
But one quiet afternoon, a rumor began to circulate in the neighborhood… a rumor that left everyone speechless.
The rumor spread like wildfire.
At first, I didn’t pay any attention. Rumors are born and die every day.
But when three different people wrote to me about the same thing, with the same fear in their words, I knew it wasn’t just gossip.
Clarissa had had a child, yes.
But the baby… didn’t look like Marco.
Too light-skinned.
Features foreign to the entire Dela Cruz family.
The whispers intensified when a routine test at a private clinic revealed a blood incompatibility.
Nothing conclusive, officially.
But enough to sow doubt.
Aling Corazon demanded a DNA test.
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