Chapter 8 - CARMEN'S CONFESSION"Mom?!" Daniel yelled, stepping instinctively between Carmen and Sofía’s bed. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in intensive care!"
Carmen looked like death warmed over—her face bruised, her silver hair disheveled, her eyes wild and feverish. But despite her battered condition, a sickening, triumphant smirk twisted the corner of her lips.
"I couldn't die just yet, Daniel," Carmen wheezed, taking a slow, painful step into the room. "Not until I finished what I started. Not until you finally saw the truth about the viper you married."
"You did this," I whispered, the rage inside me boiling over with such intensity that I lunged toward her. "You framed me! You stole Mateo's hair to fake a DNA test!"
Daniel reached out and caught my arm, holding me back, but his eyes were wide with desperate confusion as he looked at his mother. "Mom, explain yourself right now. What did you do to those DNA results?"
Carmen let out a harsh, rattling laugh. "I didn't fake the DNA test, Daniel. The test is 100% real. That boy... little Mateo... is not your son."
The entire room seemed to tilt on its axis.
"You're lying!" I screamed, struggling against Daniel's grip. "I gave birth to him! I was awake in the delivery room!"
"Yes, Valeria, you gave birth," Carmen said, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction as she hobbled closer to the bed. "You gave birth to a healthy baby boy five years ago in this very hospital. But what you don't know—what nobody in this hospital knew until I dug through the confidential archives last month—is that there was a mix-up in the maternity ward on the exact night you delivered."
Dr. Harrison stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "A maternity ward mix-up? That's statistically nearly impossible. Every newborn is banded immediately."
"Nearly impossible, yes, but not when a desperate, wealthy grandfather pays off a corrupt night-shift nurse to cover up a dying man's final wish," Carmen sneered, leaning against the wall for support.
Daniel stared at his mother, horror etched into every line of his face. "Mom... what are you talking about? What dying man?"
Carmen looked at Daniel, her eyes softening into a twisted, grotesque display of maternal affection. "Your father, Daniel on his deathbed six years ago. He made me promise him something. He said our family bloodline was dying out, that we needed a true heir—a healthy, strong male heir to carry the Vance name forward into the next century. But Valeria had only given us Sofía, and Sofía was already sick, already fading."
My blood ran cold. The room went dead silent, save for the terrifying beep of the heart monitor.
"So..." Daniel whispered, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the words. "So what did you do?"
"I didn't want my son's legacy to vanish," Carmen confessed, her voice rising with fanatical pride. "Six years ago, when Valeria was pregnant with Mateo, I arranged a quiet, private transfer through a clinic connection. When Mateo was born, I had the night-shift nurse swap him out within the first forty-eight hours with another healthy newborn boy whose biological parents had signed away their rights in a closed adoption. A boy who carried the pure, unblemished Vance genetic line."
I stopped breathing. The floor dropped out from under me, and I sank to my knees, choking on a sob so violent it tore my throat raw.
"You... you stole my baby?" I whispered, staring up at Carmen in absolute, unadulterated horror. "You stole my real son... and gave me a stranger's child?"
"No, Valeria, you ungrateful little fool," Carmen hissed, glaring down at me. "I didn't take your baby away—I upgraded your family. I gave you a child who wouldn't die of genetic illness. And more importantly... I made sure that when the time came, our family fortune would only go to a true Vance heir."
Daniel stood frozen, staring at his mother as if she were a total monster from a nightmare. "You're insane," he whispered. "You are completely, clinically insane."
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"Am I?" Carmen laughed maniacally, clutching her bruised ribs. "Check the rest of the file, Doctor. Look at the genetic match on those hair clippings. The boy you've been raising for five years... do you know whose biological son he actually is?"
Dr. Harrison quickly opened the second page of the DNA report, his eyes scanning the paternal match markers. As he read the name on the bottom of the page, the color completely drained from his face, and he dropped the clipboard onto the floor.
