Meanwhile, Marco’s new girlfriend, Clarissa—a woman who appeared sweet but loved luxury—was welcomed into the Dela Cruz household like a queen. She got everything she wanted.
Whenever guests came over, my former mother-in-law proudly introduced her:
“This is the woman who will give us the son who will inherit our business!”
I said nothing. I no longer felt angry.
I simply trusted time.
Time always reveals who people truly are.
The Birth of My Child
A few months later, I gave birth in a small public hospital in Cebu.
A baby girl—tiny, perfectly healthy, with eyes as bright as the sunrise.
The moment I held her, all the pain I had carried seemed to disappear.
I didn’t care in the slightest that she wasn’t the “son” they wanted.
She was alive. She was mine. And that was all that mattered.
When Everything Changed
A few weeks later, a former neighbor sent me a message: Clarissa had also given birth.
The entire Dela Cruz family celebrated with balloons, banners, and a feast.
At last, their long-awaited “heir” had arrived.
But one quiet afternoon, a rumor began to spread through the neighborhood—a rumor that made everyone stop in their tracks.
The rumor started with a simple observation made by some of Marco’s relatives during the baby’s baptism.
Clarissa’s child had physical features that looked nothing like Marco—or anyone in the Dela Cruz family.
As days passed, Aling Corazon’s suspicion turned into obsession. She could not rest.
The family business, their pride, and everything they had invested seemed to depend on that child.
One night, without telling anyone, Aling Corazon secretly took a strand of the baby’s hair and ordered a DNA test.
The result arrived like a volcanic explosion in the middle of their luxurious living room.
The child was not Marco’s.
Clarissa—the woman they had treated like a queen—had long been involved with another man. She had only used the Dela Cruz family to live a luxurious life and to hide her own mistake.
In an instant, the “heir” they had proudly celebrated became a symbol of their own foolishness and cruelty.
They threw Clarissa out that very night, but the wound to their pride would never heal easily.
Only then did they remember everything.
Aling Corazon remembered her cold words to me.
Marco remembered his silence as I walked away from their home.
In the middle of their humiliation, they realized something else—the only true blood of Marco’s was the child I had been carrying.
The child they had rejected simply because she might be a girl.w
One afternoon in Cebu, while I was walking along the beach carrying my daughter Maya, I saw a familiar car stop in front of the house where we were staying.
Marco stepped out, followed by Aling Corazon and her husband.
They looked nothing like the people I last saw in Quezon City.
Their shoulders were slumped, their eyes heavy with sleeplessness and regret.
“My child… please forgive us,” Aling Corazon said as she suddenly knelt on the sand in front of me.
“We made a terrible mistake. We know the truth now… we have no face left to show you. But please, allow us to know our granddaughter.”
