Tabitha’s tearful, emotional words made Lorenzo waver. She clung tightly to his hand.
“Lorenzo, our wedding is in just three days. Don’t let a murderer ruin it for us, okay?”
At that moment, Lorenzo felt a wave of sympathy. He gently patted her head and said, “Alright, I believe you.”
But despite his words, he spent the next three days quietly looking into my pregnancy.
He even stopped Francesca on her way home from school and secretly took a hair sample for a DNA test.
Back then, there had been a man who visited me at the hospital. He was my senior at university and we had been working together to support an orphaned student.
Lorenzo had known about this, too, but he had only scoffed at me.
“You can barely feed yourself and you still want to play the Good Samaritan? Pathetic.”
But that senior had long been married. He had never once said the kind of things Tabitha had claimed.
On the day of the wedding, Lorenzo finally showed up, his face pale and eyes tired.
“Lorenzo, are you alright?” Tabitha asked, concerned.
He gave a slight shake of his head. For the past few nights, his dreams had been haunted by the fire from five years ago, but this time, the one burning inside wasn’t Grandma Ursula. It was me.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly, rubbing his aching forehead as he walked out, hand in hand with Tabitha.
Back then, he had promised to marry me once I gave birth. We had even cuddled together, picking out wedding venues and imagining our future.
But ever since Tabitha came back from abroad, Lorenzo had thrown away every promise he made to me.
Now, even the role of bride belonged to her.
During the ring exchange at the wedding, Lorenzo’s phone suddenly rang.
The smile on Tabitha’s face froze. She looked at him, helpless.
Lorenzo instantly recognized the ringtone; it was the special one he had set himself.
He raised his hand to stop the officiant.
“Sorry, Tabitha. I have something important to handle.”
He took a deep breath and answered the call.
“President Clark, the paternity test results are back.”
“Francesca is your biological daughter.”
Lorenzo stood there like he’d been struck by lightning. The phone slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
“Lorenzo, what’s wrong?”
Seeing him frozen, Tabitha began to panic. This was her only chance to become Mrs. Clark. She couldn’t let it slip away.
“Lorenzo, let’s just finish the ring exchange,” she said, tugging on his sleeve.
But Lorenzo suddenly shoved her aside like a madman and stumbled out the door.
After my death, he had convinced himself Francesca was a child I had with someone else. For five years, he poured all his hatred onto her.
He had bribed her kindergarten teachers, starting with something as small as not letting her nap and then it escalated into outright physical abuse.
Francesca was a thoughtful child. She knew my mother was old and weak, so she never said a word.
But she was only five. How could she possibly bear it all?
Every time Lorenzo saw her, he would either hit her or scream at her.
What he never realized was that the child he was hurting was his own daughter.
Now, dressed in a wedding suit, he stood outside my house and locked eyes with Francesca, who had just stepped outside.
