As soon as the child saw his mother, he giggled joyfully.
I hesitated.
Maybe, just maybe… for the sake of our child, I could give Lorena one more chance.
So I stayed.
That night, she came to my room dressed in a revealing silk gown, her perfume thick in the air as she quietly slipped under the covers.
But I didn’t touch her. I couldn’t.
I got up and coldly told her to leave.
She didn’t get angry. Instead, she gave me a bitter smile and turned to walk away—only to pause when her phone rang.
It was Thomas.
Her expression changed instantly—shock, panic, then urgency. She didn’t say a word to me as she rushed to change and left in a hurry.
I watched her go, and any flicker of hope I had was extinguished.
The next day arrived—her child’s full-month banquet.
Lorena had already arranged for her new assistant to escort me and my son to the main table, seating us in a place of prominence.
But it was nothing more than a performance.
Soon after, she entered the hall holding Thomas' child in one arm and Thomas' hand in the other.
She smiled and laughed as she mingled with the high-profile guests, radiating grace and charm—leaving me and my son completely ignored, like props she had no more use for.
People stared. Whispers spread. Some even laughed.
When the time came for the official announcement, the air shifted. Lorena stepped onto the stage, but couldn’t even look in our direction.
She cleared her throat.
“Today is a special day. My child has turned one month old—and I want to share a piece of good news,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
“I’ve decided… to pass on all of my company’s shares and assets to the child in my arms.”
Cheers erupted from the guests. Smiles, applause, congratulations.
But I sat frozen, numb. Then I quietly stood, picked up my son, and walked out.
Lorena.
Why did you make a promise you couldn’t keep?
You gave us hope—again and again—only to crush it under your heel every time.
That was the moment I finally let go.
No more pain. No more begging. No more illusions.
I packed our things, and that very night, I took my son and left the city behind.
Somewhere far away, we could start over—without her.
Back at the banquet, Lorena was still smiling for the cameras when she turned to glance at our table… and froze.
We were gone.
Her heart skipped. Panic bloomed in her chest.
“Where did they go?” she asked the assistant beside her.
Before the assistant could answer, she came rushing back—face pale, voice trembling.
“Miss Lorena, we have a problem!”
“What now?”
“The partner just called. The design draft Thomas submitted—it’s a fake, an unfinished version. They’re threatening to terminate the contract and sue for fraud if we don’t deliver the real one immediately!”
