Bianca watched the city from the penthouse, the glass of wine suspended between her fingers. The orange sky of Velaris reflected in the building's windows like a shattered mirror. Behind her, an assistant waited silently, as if he didn't even dare to breathe without permission.
"And she refused?" Bianca asked, slowly swirling the wine in her glass.
"Yes, Madam. Patricia Navarre returned the envelope. She said she won't disappear, nor will she accept money."
Bianca bit her lower lip, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
Damn it.
She couldn't let that woman destroy everything.
Using a false name at the clinic had been a calculated risk. But necessary. Enzo never wanted children. Never wanted marriage. Never wanted anything other than to keep Bianca for social convenience. She knew that, but she was willing to use every weapon. And when the chance arose to fertilize his last embryo—the only one Enzo had authorized to freeze, after an old treatment—Bianca acted alone, without consulting him.
She needed a child from him.
With an heir, she would have control. The name. The power. The security.
But the plan had gone wrong.
Very wrong.
The embryo had been mistakenly implanted in another woman. And now, that ordinary woman, without an important surname or fortune, carried what should have been hers.
Bianca emptied the glass in one go. The bitter taste mingled with the taste of failure.
She wouldn't allow Patricia to ruin her plans. She wouldn't allow Enzo to know anything. If it meant lying, manipulating, and silencing, so be it.
She had passed the point of no return.
Patricia spent the day with her soul raw. Every noise startled her. Every phone call put her on alert. She couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious woman, the threat disguised as kindness, the bank account with dirty money.
She put the card in an envelope, sealed it, and went to return it personally at the bank's headquarters.
"I want to close this account. Now," she said firmly.
"Madam, there's a recent high-value transfer. Are you sure...?"
"Absolutely sure."
She left there feeling lighter. But also more alone. She was tired of being treated as an obstacle. As an inconvenience that needed to be erased.
She was a woman. A life. A mother.
And she wouldn't be erased by anyone.
That afternoon, needing to breathe, Patricia decided to walk. She got off the bus a few blocks before home and walked along one of the avenues in the old town center, where cafes and bookstores mingled with buildings of historical architecture. There, the world seemed less cruel.
She entered a small cafe, where the aroma of freshly baked bread floated in the air. She ordered chamomile tea and a sweet roll. She sat near the window, trying to find some peace in the movement of the street.
And that's when she saw him.
Unintentionally, unexpectedly, without even imagining it.
A tall man, in a dark suit and impeccable posture, entered the cafe in a hurry, talking on his cell phone.
"I've already said I won't sign this contract without reviewing clause by clause. It doesn't matter if it's urgent."
His voice was firm. Magnetic. His presence, imposing.
He hung up and took off his sunglasses, revealing gray eyes, deep and cold as the sky before the rain. Patricia recognized him at a glance. She had seen him in some magazine, in some report... but only after a few seconds did her brain connect the dots:
Enzo Ravary.
The name pulsed in her mind with a strange weight, but she didn't know why.
He ordered a black coffee, without sugar, and stood impatiently, checking messages on his cell phone.
For an instant, their eyes met.
And Patricia felt an inexplicable chill.
There was no reason for it. She didn't know him. She had never exchanged a word with him. But there was something about that man that stirred something inside her.
Enzo, in turn, took a second longer than necessary to look away. There was something about that woman—with sad eyes and features marked by a silent strength—that disconcerted him. For a brief moment, he wanted to ask if she was okay.
But he didn't.
He was Enzo Ravary. And feelings were distractions.
He took the coffee, thanked with a nod, and left the place with the same haste with which he entered.
Patricia remained in the cafe for long minutes after Enzo left, with the forgotten cup in front of her and her eyes lost in the void. She was trying to understand why that look had affected her so much. It wasn't just beauty—although it was impossible to deny that he was the kind of man who attracted attention wherever he went. It was something else. A silent magnetism. An energy that pulled her, as if their bodies had already recognized each other.
She shook her head, as if to dispel an inconvenient thought. She grabbed her bag and walked out onto the sidewalk. The sun was beginning to set, tinging the sky with shades of copper and lavender. She needed to go home. She needed to rest. She needed to pretend that her life still made some sense.
Her cell phone vibrated.
She took the device out of her bag without haste. But, seeing the name of the clinic on the screen, her stomach churned.
Vitta+ Clinic
She answered with her heart in her throat.
"Hello?"
"Patricia Navarre? Good afternoon, this is Camila, from the biogenetics sector of Vitta+. The results of the compatibility analysis have been completed. Can you come to the clinic tomorrow morning for a formal meeting?"
"I want to know now," she said, without hesitation.
"Madam, it would be better in person. The content..."
"Tell me now."
There was silence on the other end of the line. When the voice returned, it was lower, more careful.
"The analysis confirms that the embryo implanted in you is the result of the genetic material of a donor registered under the code R-001-E. This code belongs to the patient Enzo Ravary."
The name sounded like thunder in Patricia's mind. She stopped walking. People passed by her, but it was as if the world had been put on hold.
"Can you repeat that?" she whispered.
"The biological father of the fetus is the businessman Enzo Ravary. This was his only viable embryo. The procedure was done with the consent of patient Patricia Navarro. The error happened when the medical records were switched in the system, and... well... you already know the rest."
Patricia hung up without saying anything else. Her fingers trembled.
Enzo Ravary.
The same man she had just seen. The same one who stared at her with that deep and inexplicable look minutes before.
She sat on a bench in the nearby square, feeling the weight of the revelation land on her shoulders like a suffocating cloak.
Now everything made sense.
The mysterious woman, the bribery, the clinic's silence, the rush to hush up the case... it all revolved around a single man.
She was expecting Enzo Ravary's child.
The most powerful heir in Orlandia. A man who didn't even know what he was about to lose.
And his fiancee... knew. Knew all along.
Patricia squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears fall without warning. It wasn't just fear. It was the pain of being treated as a mistake. As a burden. As a threat.
But she wouldn't be silenced.
Not after this.
Her world may have turned upside down... but Patricia was standing.
And now, more than ever, she needed to protect herself and the child she was carrying—even if it meant facing an entire empire alone.
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