No doubt. That was Daniel.
The same man she’d driven to the airport three days ago.
The same man she’d texted that morning—unread.
And on that photo… he was smiling. A real smile. The kind she hadn’t seen directed at her in a long time.
Then she looked at the comments.
And something in her chest cracked without making a sound.
“Congratulations, Dani. Clara is finally part of our family.”
“Mrs. Rivas, at last you’ll have grandchildren.”
“Congrats on the wedding! Baby news soon!”
Everyone knew.
Everyone attended.
Everyone celebrated.
Lucía felt nausea rise—not because she was fragile, but because the betrayal was too coordinated to be an accident.
While she’d been working herself raw to pay the mortgage on their luxury home, cover the installments on Daniel’s sports car, even send his mother a monthly allowance…
They were out there, smiling in flowers, crowning a new bride.
And the worst part?
They thought she would just… keep funding the life they were stealing from her.
Because most of their real assets weren’t in Daniel’s name.
The Salamanca house—€12 million—was in hers.
The SUV his mother loved borrowing—hers.
Even the “his” luxury sports car he bragged about?