Chapter 3 - The Expulsion of the PretenderThe evening sun was casting long, amber shadows across the manicured lawns of Las Lomas when the heavy wrought-iron gates of the Villaseñor estate groaned open to admit a sleek black Mercedes sedan.
Inside the grand foyer, the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a butcher’s knife.
Paulina Robles stood by the sweeping staircase, her arms crossed over her chest, wearing a crimson designer dress that cost more than a small automobile. Two large Louis Vuitton luggage trunks sat behind her on the marble floor, attended by a pair of visibly uncomfortable security guards.
She had spent the entire afternoon locked in her suite, screaming over the phone at her mother, her socialite friends, and her legal advisors, fully expecting that by evening, Diego would come crawling back to her with apologies, begging her to restore order to his household.
Instead, the front doors swung open, and Diego walked in alone.
He didn't look at her luggage. He didn't look at her furious, flushed face. He walked straight toward the double doors of the study, his expression set in stone.
“Diego!” Paulina shrieked, marching across the foyer to block his path. “What is the meaning of this? Your head of security just told me my personal keycards have been deactivated! And those servants—that woman and her brat—are currently being moved into the guest suite on the second floor! Have you completely lost your mind?”
Diego stopped. He looked down at Paulina, his gray eyes completely devoid of warmth, reflecting only a cold, chilling emptiness.
“The engagement is off, Paulina,” Diego said, his voice flat, steady, and utterly final.
The entire foyer went dead silent. Even the butler standing near the dining hall doorway stopped breathing.
Paulina let out a shrill, disbelieving laugh. “Off? Are you insane? My father’s construction consortium holds thirty percent of the Santa Fe transit contract! Our families announced the wedding date to the entire upper echelon of Mexico City society! You cannot just cancel this like a business meeting!”
“I am canceling it like a business meeting,” Diego replied coldly, “because I refuse to do business with someone who treats my flesh and blood like garbage.”
Paulina’s face twisted with incandescent rage. She pointed a manicured, trembling finger toward the upper hallway.
“That filthy little bastard of a maid’s brat? That’s what this is about? You’re throwing away a multi-million-dollar alliance and a society wedding for a servant’s bastard child?”
Before the words had even finished echoing against the marble walls, Diego’s hand shot out. He didn't strike her, but his grip on her wrist was so fast, so terrifyingly powerful, that Paulina gasped in pain and terror.
“Never call my daughter that again,” Diego whispered, his voice dropping into a register so dark and lethal that Paulina’s knees buckled slightly. “If you value your social standing, your reputation, and your father’s business licenses in this city, you will take your luggage, get into that car, and never set foot on my property again.”
He shoved her hand away with quiet disgust.
Paulina staggered back, clutching her bruised wrist, her eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated shock. She realized in that single, crushing second that she had lost. The billionaire had not lost his mind; he had found his soul—and it had cost her everything.
Without another word, Paulina turned on her heel, tears of humiliation streaming down her face, and ran out the front doors, leaving her designer trunks behind as security loaded them into the back of the waiting car like garbage.
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Diego watched the tail lights disappear down the winding driveway of Las Lomas.
Then, he turned around, walked up the grand staircase, and headed toward the second-floor guest suite where Marisol and Valentina were waiting.
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