The Confrontation
As he clapped mechanically with trembling hands, he knew he couldn’t leave without the truth. He didn’t imagine that this impulse would unleash an emotional hurricane that would test not his bank account, but the very moral fiber of his soul.
The ceremony ended, and the crowd spilled into the gardens for a toast. Eduardo moved through the people like a ghost, declining drinks and conversation, his eyes locked on Aurora’s red dress. He found her near a fountain, alone for a moment while Estela received congratulations from her classmates.
He took a breath, adjusted his jacket—a futile gesture of protection—and stepped forward.
“Aurora.”
She turned. There was no exaggerated gasp, only an immediate tension in her shoulders and a gaze that shifted from surprise to a glacial defense. “Mr. Lancaster,” she said. Her voice had lost the heavy accent of years ago, sounding firm and educated. “What a surprise to see you here.”
“It’s been a long time, Aurora,” Eduardo tried to sound casual but failed miserably. “Your daughter… Estela. She gave an impressive speech.”
“Thank you. She worked very hard to get here.”
“She has a scholarship to Oxford, I heard.”