I come closer to Santiago whose eyes are still closed, his face relaxed, and I wonder what it’s like to never fucking be afraid in this life.

Must be extremely nice!

“Highly unlikely. Their priority right now is Howard. Besides, you have an alibi.”

The wedding.

Is that why he rushed us to it? So his friends and us will have a good cover in case the cops show up? He even invited Jimena and informed his parents.

Except there is one tiny flaw with his plan. “I might still be a suspect. The illegitimate daughter who wanted revenge on her family.” The words have a bitter taste in my mouth; nevertheless, they are the truth.

According to the law, I have a motive. And it happened just after I came back home. They wouldn’t hesitate to put two and two together.

“Have you ever seen your birth certificate?”

My brows furrow. “No. I needed it once for boarding school, but Grandmother said she’d handle it. And obviously her people took care of all my documents. How is this relevant right now?”

He finally pops his vibrant eyes open, their intensity hitting me hard once again, and I take a large sip, wincing when it burns my tongue, but I keep my focus on him. “Howard’s name never showed on your birth records. You have the Dawson family name, yes, but the father section is blank.” He waits a bit, allowing me to digest this information, adding shortly, “Legally, you were never theirs. You were never included in their wills either. You don’t get a cent out of their deaths. Whatever case the police would try to build on you is destined to fail.”

Slightly lost, I whisper, “I don’t understand. Legally, they had—”

“No rights. Why do you think you were homeschooled? And then sent to Greece until you turned twenty-one?”

“I participated in functions. People saw me.” Despite the realization creeping into my mind, I still hope I’m wrong.

They couldn’t have been this diabolical, could they?

“You participated in two or three functions where they introduced you as their dead friend’s daughter. Querida, where there is money lies power. The law surely wouldn’t have knocked on their door just to check if it’s true or not.”

My heart pangs painfully, the childhood wounds slashing open again and bleeding so fiercely I forget how to breathe when the full realization of their deceit settles on my mind.

All their controlling ways over me, their threats, their degrading behavior toward me…

I withstood it all for nothing? In the eyes of the law, they could have never hurt me or put me in a psychiatry ward?

I even agreed to marry Santiago to save Dad’s ass, sacrificing my life and freedom!

Then his other words register and my heart stops, their full meaning slamming into me and almost knocking me on my knees, but I glue my feet to the floor, too afraid to move for fear of breaking.

Blank.

Father said I destroyed them, him and Mom, and she couldn’t love me no matter how much she tried.

My grandmother never accepted me, even though supposedly her blood ran through my veins, and I was her son’s daughter. She would have never turned her back on a true Dawson.

Except, I wasn’t.

Oh my God.

I was never theirs!

The mug slips from my fingers, the porcelain hitting the floor and shattering into tiny pieces, the sound ringing in my ears. The hot tea burns my feet, yet I pay no attention to that.

How can I, when my whole existence has been a lie?

“Mierda,” Santiago mutters, scooping me in his arms and reaching the counter in short strides, the shards crunching under his shoes.

He puts me on the counter, goes to the freezer, and then comes back holding an ice pack. Lifting my foot, he presses it, and I wince. The cold sinking into my painful skin finally snaps me out of my stupor. “Thank you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, thousands of thoughts rushing through my mind so fast I don’t know on which one to focus or listen to. “I didn’t burn myself much. The tea was warm.”