Five minutes after signing the divorce papers, my ex-husband called his pregnant mistress and said, “Your son will carry our family name.”

At the man who had chosen to erase us.

At the family who had called my children nothing.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

And this time…

I meant it.

Behind us, Diego Rivera was losing everything.

His illusion.

His pride.

His “heir.”

And soon…

His name.

Because the real collapse?

It hadn’t even started yet.

 

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