He set the baby gently into the bassinet beside my bed and sank to his knees by my side, grasping my cold hand.
“Cecilia, I… I don’t even know how to beg for your forgiveness. I threw away the only real things I ever had.”
I looked at him calmly, pulling my hand back gently but firmly. The love I had once carried for him had died on that icy porch nine months ago, replaced by the fierce survival instinct of a mother.
“I didn’t come to your hospital for your forgiveness, Nicolás,” I said softly, looking at my beautiful daughter. “I came because under the terms of the federal asset seizure of your mother’s embezzled funds, my trust fund acquired the controlling shares of St. Raphael Medical Center last week.”
Nicolás froze, looking up at me in shock.
I smiled, a genuine sense of peace washing over me.
“You can keep your custom suits and your $40,000 Rolex, Doctor. You’re a phenomenal surgeon, so you can keep your job here, too. But from now on, you answer to me. Because just like I told you before… sometimes people mistake possession for ownership.”
