Chapter 3 - The Bloodline Clause
The sound of the shower upstairs stopped.
I quickly snapped a photograph of the document with my phone, refolded the paper with trembling fingers, and slipped it back into the inside pocket of Mateo’s coat. My pulse hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Mateo descended the stairs a few minutes later, dressed in gray sweatpants and a dark t-shirt, his hair damp. He looked exhausted, the skin beneath his eyes bruised with fatigue. He came up behind me in the kitchen where I was pretending to pour a glass of water, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his face into my neck.
“She’s fast asleep,” he murmured softly. “Skin looks totally normal. No redness.”
I stood rigid in his embrace. Every instinct in my body screamed that the man holding me was keeping a secret so radioactive it had nearly gotten our child burned tonight.
“Mateo,” I said, slipping out of his hold and turning to face him across the quartz kitchen island. “Why does your father hate Camila?”
He blinked, taken aback. “What? He doesn't hate her. Dad is just... he’s emotionally detached. He’s been that way his entire life.”
“Don’t lie to me,” I said, my voice dangerously steady. “Your father didn't flinch when Vanessa threw that soup. He didn't check on Camila. He acted as if Camila were an intruder. And Vanessa screamed that I made everything about myself.”
“Vanessa is bitter because she’s thirty-two, single, and failing at every venture Dad funds for her,” Mateo said, rubbing his eyes. “Sofía, please. It’s midnight on Christmas. Can we just go to sleep?”
“Who is Vance and Calloway, Mateo?”
Mateo froze. The color drained from his lips in a terrifying, instantaneous wave. The hand he had been running through his hair dropped limply to his side.
“Where did you hear that name?” he whispered.
“You left your coat on the bannister,” I said, tapping my phone on the counter. “Clause 4B. The biological heir requirement. What lab test is Elena talking about, Mateo? Did you submit my baby’s DNA without my permission?”
Mateo swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the stairs as if Camila might overhear us. He closed the distance between us and grabbed my wrists, not roughly, but with desperate intensity.
“Sofía, listen to me. Keep your voice down.”
“Answer me!” I ripped my hands away from his grip. “Did you swab my daughter?”
“No! God, no, Sofía, I would never do that without you,” he choked out, running his hands over his face. “I didn't submit anything. That’s the problem. Dad demanded a paternity test the moment you gave birth. He told me that if I didn't verify Camila’s lineage through his private clinic, he would disinherit me and hand the entire family trust to Vanessa.”
A sickening chill swept through me. “Your father questioned whether Camila was yours? On what grounds? We’ve been married for four years! I’ve never so much as looked at another man!”
“It’s not about you!” Mateo said, his voice cracking with anguish. “It was never about you, Sofía! It’s about *me*.”
I stared at him, my mind spinning. “What are you talking about?”
Mateo looked like a condemned man standing before a firing squad. He looked at the floor, his breathing shallow. “Three months ago, Ricardo called me into his office at the terminal. He laid out medical files from twenty-eight years ago. Sofía... Ricardo isn't my biological father.”
The room seemed to tilt on its axis.
“Elena had an affair,” Mateo whispered, tears welling in his dark eyes. “Ricardo stayed with her to protect the family name, but he made a condition in the original family trust: only his *blood* descendants inherit the corporation. Vanessa is his biological daughter. I am not.”
“Then... why does Camila matter?” I breathed, the pieces refusing to fit together.
“Because under the original charter drafted by Ricardo’s grandfather,” Mateo explained, his voice shaking with terror, “if Elena’s children fail to produce a direct heir recognized by the board, the trust dissolves and liquidates. Ricardo is broke, Sofía. He ran the shipping line into forty million dollars of debt. He needs Camila to be proven as *not* his bloodline so he can liquidate the estate before the banks audit him.”
“And Vanessa?”
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“Vanessa found out last week that Ricardo promised to give her whatever scraps remain if she helped him push us out of the will completely,” Mateo said. “Tonight wasn't just a tantrum, Sofía. Vanessa was trying to provoke me into hitting her. She wanted a restraining order. She wanted me barred from the Sterling estate before the New Year’s board meeting.”
Before I could process the monstrous depravity of what he was saying, the sharp, distinctive chime of our front doorbell sliced through the dark house.
