Part 2
Two weeks later, the lawsuit arrived.
Sofía was claiming half of everything Julián had left me — the house, the apartment in Del Valle, and part of the accounts. She argued that her son had a right to his father’s inheritance. My parents signed affidavits in her support. They stated that Julián had confessed his love for Sofía to them, that I had been cold, that the marriage was already over before the accident.
Every page was a new betrayal.
I found a lawyer named Ricardo Montes, a specialist in inheritance and family fraud cases. He reviewed the photographs, messages, and witness statements with a serious expression.
“Mariana, I have to be honest with you. If the baby is truly Julián’s son, the judge may be sympathetic to the claim.”
I left his office feeling as though they were taking the house, the dead husband, and what little dignity I had remaining.
That night, my phone rang from an unknown number.
“Mariana Herrera? This is Elena Parker. Julián’s biological mother.”
I almost dropped the phone.
“That’s impossible. Julián told me he was an orphan. That his parents had died.”
The woman’s voice broke with a bitterness I recognized.
“Another one of his lies. I need to see you. I have something that can help you.”
We met the next day at a café in La Condesa. When she walked in, my blood went cold. She had Julián’s eyes, his sad smile, even that elegant way of moving that I had loved so much.
She told me he had left her years ago out of pride, because of old lies, because of a violent father who was no longer alive. She had attended the funeral, sitting in the back row, wearing a black veil. I remembered her then — a woman alone who left before the service ended.
Elena placed a manila envelope on the table.
“I cannot allow my son, even in death, to continue destroying women.”
I opened it.
Medical records from ten years earlier. A hospital in Monterrey. I read the word several times before understanding it fully.
Complete azoospermia. Permanent sterility. Inability to conceive naturally.
All the air left my body.
“Julián knew he couldn’t have children,” Elena said. “He had those tests done before marrying you. I was the only one who knew.”
Then the full weight of the cruelty settled over me.
My years of treatments. My guilt. My injections. My tears in clinic bathrooms. All of it had been built on a lie. It wasn’t me. It had never been me.
On the day of the hearing, Sofía arrived dressed in black, carrying the baby as though he were both proof and shield. My parents sat behind her. My mother looked at me with a pity layered over venom.
Sofía took the stand and wept, speaking about her great love for Julián, about a future stolen by the accident, about a child who deserved justice.
Then my lawyer stood.
“Your Honor, we present medical evidence establishing that Mr. Julián Herrera was permanently sterile years before meeting the plaintiff. We request a DNA test.”
Sofía shouted that it was fabricated, that I had invented everything. Then she smiled.
“Julián was cremated. There’s no one to compare with.”
Ricardo looked toward the public.
“Yes there is.”
He called Elena Parker to testify — Mr. Herrera’s biological mother.
Elena stood.
The courtroom murmured.
Sofía went pale.
“I am willing to take the test,” Elena said. “If that child is Julián’s son, he will be my grandson. If not, it will be known.”
The judge ordered the DNA test.
During the weeks that followed, Sofía requested delays, fabricated illnesses for the baby, changed lawyers, and attempted to play the victim at every turn. But the results arrived.
The courtroom was full when the judge opened the envelope.
“The results determine that there is no genetic relationship between the child and Ms. Elena Parker. Therefore, Julián Herrera is not the child’s biological father.”
Sofía began to cry, but this time no one believed her.
The judge asked who the real father was.
Cornered, she admitted she had been with several men, that she had thought no one would discover it because Julián was dead and cremated, that she needed security for her son.
My father slumped in his chair.
My mother wept, unsure who to reach for.
The lawsuit was dismissed with prejudice. The judge noted that Sofía could face fraud charges.
Outside the courthouse, my parents approached.
“Mariana, we didn’t know,” my mother said. “We can work this out. Things have been difficult since you stopped the transfers…”
I raised my hand.
“You didn’t come because you love me. You came because you lost the money.”
I blocked their numbers in front of them and walked to my car.
Elena was waiting by the door.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I took a long breath.
“For the first time in a very long time, I think I am.”
