The ceremony ended, and the crowd spilled into the gardens for a toast. Eduardo moved through the people like a ghost, declining drinks and conversation, his eyes locked on Aurora’s red dress. He found her near a fountain, alone for a moment while Estela received congratulations from her classmates.
He took a breath, adjusted his jacket—a futile gesture of protection—and stepped forward.
“Aurora.”
She turned. There was no exaggerated gasp, only an immediate tension in her shoulders and a gaze that shifted from surprise to a glacial defense. “Mr. Lancaster,” she said. Her voice had lost the heavy accent of years ago, sounding firm and educated. “What a surprise to see you here.”
“It’s been a long time, Aurora,” Eduardo tried to sound casual but failed miserably. “Your daughter… Estela. She gave an impressive speech.”
“Thank you. She worked very hard to get here.”
“She has a scholarship to Oxford, I heard.”
“Yes. She earned it on her own.”
The silence that followed was heavy, laden with eighteen years of secrets. Eduardo couldn’t dance around it any longer. “Aurora, I’ve seen her. She has my eyes. She has my father’s profile. The dates match.”
Aurora looked around, ensuring no one was listening, and lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “And what if she does? What are you looking for here, Eduardo?”
“So it’s true?” The confirmation hit him like a sledgehammer. “She is my daughter.”
“She is my daughter,” she corrected with a ferocity that made him step back. “I was there when she was born premature and almost didn’t make it. I was there through the fevers, the night terrors, the school plays where every child had a father and she only had me. You were busy building your empire.”
“I didn’t know!” he protested, guilt burning in his throat. “You never told me. If I had known…”
“What would you have done twenty years ago, Eduardo?” she interrupted with a sad smile. “You were a rich, ambitious boy. You probably would have handed me a check to ‘fix the problem’ or to make me disappear. I didn’t want that for her. I didn’t want her to be an inconvenience in your schedule or a hidden bastard. I wanted her to be free.”
Eduardo opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words died on his tongue. She was right. The Eduardo of twenty years ago, obsessed with status and image, might not have risen to the occasion. That truth hurt more than any insult.