“Conclusive result: irreversible infertility.” The wine glass fell to the floor.
“That’s impossible…” Hector murmured. “I have two daughters.” Isabel spoke with a calmness that cut like glass.
“You have them because I wanted them. We used a donor. You signed… without reading.” The silence was brutal.
“The diagnosis is from twelve years ago,” she continued. The same year the doctors told you that you could never have biological children.
Claudia took a step back.
“Hector… tell me that’s not true.”
Isabel looked at her for the first time.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But that child… isn’t his.”
Claudia burst into tears.
“He swore to me he was fertile…” she sobbed. “He promised me a life, a name, an empire…”
Hector trembled.
“So… all this…?”
Isabel stood up slowly.
“This entire empire,” she said, “was built while you were chasing a name you could never perpetuate.”
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