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THE BRIDE’S blood-soaked secret: The baby in the rain / Chapter 3 / 6

Chapter 3 - The Web of Deceit

“You thought you married a angel, but you bought a demon.”The ballroom erupted into absolute chaos.

Guests screamed, knocking over chairs and crystal glasses as they scrambled to distance themselves from the head table. The fairytale wedding had instantly morphed into a gruesome crime scene. Doña Camila, Valeria’s mother, fainted into the arms of a nearby waiter, while Don Roberto collapsed into a chair, clutching his heart, his eyes wide with a mixture of grief and rage.

Alejandro felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under him. He fell to his knees, his hands gripping his head as the reality of his brother’s murder shattered his mind.

"Mateo..." he whispered, his voice cracking with agony. "My brother... my little brother..."

He looked up at Valeria, who was still on the floor, her face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated malice. The helpless, frightened bride was gone. In her place sat a woman whose eyes burned with cold, calculating fury.

"You fool," Valeria spat, slowly rising to her feet. She didn't bother to dust off her soiled white gown. She looked down at Alejandro with utter contempt. "You always were the weak one, Alejandro. Just like your father. You thought you were so smart, so worthy of the empire. But you’re nothing. Mateo was twice the man you’ll ever be."

"Why?" Alejandro choked out, his tears flowing freely now. "If you loved him... if this baby is his... why did you kill him?"

"Because he was weak!" Valeria hissed, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "He wanted to confess! He wanted to throw away everything we had planned! We spent two years orchestrating this merger. We were going to control the entire tequila industry in North America. The baby was our insurance policy. If anything happened to you, the entire fortune would go to my child—Mateo's child. But Mateo lost his nerve. He actually started to feel guilty for betraying you."

She let out a harsh, bitter laugh that sounded completely unhinged.

"He wanted to ruin my life for a stupid thing called 'conscience.' I couldn't let him do that. I’ve worked too hard to get to the top. No one—not even the father of my child—stands in my way."

"You are a monster," Alejandro whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and disgust.

"I am a survivor," Valeria corrected him, her eyes scanning the room, looking for an escape route.

But before she could make a move, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom burst open once again. This time, it wasn't a shivering child who entered.

It was the federal police.

A dozen armed officers flooded the room, their weapons drawn. At the front of the group was a sharp-eyed female detective, her badge gleaming in the dim light.

"Valeria Villa-Lobos," Detective Ramirez announced, her voice firm and uncompromising. "You are under arrest for the murder of Mateo Ruiz, the conspiracy to commit fraud, and the child endangerment of Sofia and the infant."

Valeria’s eyes darted to the side, looking at the large glass windows. For a split second, she looked like she might try to jump. But the red laser sights of the officers' weapons quickly focused on her chest, freezing her in place.

With slow, deliberate movements, Valeria raised her hands. But even as the metal handcuffs clicked around her wrists, a cold, mocking smile played on her lips.

"You think you've won, Alejandro?" she whispered as she was led past him. "You think this is over? You have no idea how deep this well goes. You don't even know who really gave that girl the baby tonight."

As Valeria was dragged out into the pouring rain, her laughter echoing down the stone corridors, Alejandro turned his gaze back to Sofia.

The little girl was still standing there, but her expression had changed. She was no longer looking at him with anger or resentment. She looked exhausted, her small body trembling under the weight of the child she carried.

But as Alejandro stepped closer to thank her, he noticed something strange.

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The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scattering the light from the chandeliers. The muffled laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, heavy silence that crept outward from the grand staircase.

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The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking out the clinical, terrifying silence of the kitchen. Evelyn Crane stood stiffly in front of my mahogany desk, her hands folded over her apron with the rigid precision of someone who had spent decades micromanaging every square inch of my estate. Behind her, Norah hovered near the doorway, clutching her clipboard like a shield.

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Sofia wasn't looking at him. She was looking at his father, Don Roberto.

And in her eyes, there was a look of pure, unyielding terror.

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