PART 1 â He Kicked His Pregnant Wife in the Middle of a Gala⊠Unaware That the Hotel Owner Was the Father She Had Hidden
Elisa entered the ballroom of the Gran Hotel Reforma with one hand resting protectively on her seven-month pregnant belly and the other clutching a small handbag she had owned for years.
The ballroom sparkled beneath crystal chandeliers. White orchids decorated every table. Politicians, investors, celebrities, and executives moved through the crowd dressed in designer suits and gowns that cost more than many people earned in a month.
It was the biggest event of the year for Urbania Arquitectos.
And for IvĂĄn Montes, it was supposed to be the night his future changed.
At least, that's what he kept telling everyone.
Including his wife.
Especially his wife.
"Stay close," he muttered as they entered. "And don't embarrass me tonight."
Elisa lowered her eyes.
Three years earlier, she would have answered him.
Now she simply nodded.
Marriage had changed things.
Or perhaps marriage had revealed things.
Because the man who once brought flowers to her classroom now seemed annoyed by her existence.
And ever since she became pregnant, his patience had grown thinner by the day.
The truth was that IvĂĄn never really knew who she was.
He thought he did.
He believed she was Elisa RĂos.
A modest art teacher.
A woman from an ordinary family.
Someone with no influence, no connections, and no money.
That was exactly what Elisa had wanted him to believe.
Her real name was Elisa Salgado RĂos.
Daughter of Don Evaristo Salgado.
Owner of Grupo Salgado.
One of the wealthiest business empires in Mexico.
Hotels.
Construction companies.
Private hospitals.
Luxury resorts.
Office towers.
Entire city blocks.
Her father owned enough property that people joked he could walk across downtown Mexico City without ever stepping onto land that wasn't his.
But Elisa had hidden all of it.
She wanted love.
Not ambition.
Not greed.
Not someone calculating her value based on her last name.
So she left the family business behind and built a quieter life for herself.
Then she met IvĂĄn.
And for a while, she believed she had made the right choice.
Now, standing beside him at the gala, she wasn't so sure.
"You look tired," IvĂĄn said.
"My back hurts."
"Then don't show it."
Elisa blinked.
"The baby has been kicking all day."
"Everything is always about the baby."
The words stung.
Not because they were new.
Because they weren't.
Over the past few months, comments like that had become common.
The baby costs too much.
The baby ruined our plans.
The baby changed everything.
The baby.
The baby.
The baby.
Never our child.
Never our family.
Always the baby.
As though the little life growing inside her was an inconvenience.
They reached their table.
It sat near one of the ballroom columns.
Far from the VIP section.
Far from the important guests.
Far from the people IvĂĄn desperately wanted to impress.
"Stay here," he said.
Elisa frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean don't wander around talking to people."
She stared at him.
"I know how to behave."
"I just don't want any surprises tonight."
His tone made her feel like a liability instead of a wife.
Then he walked away.
Without another word.
Leaving her alone.
Across the ballroom, executives laughed over champagne.
A string quartet played softly near the stage.
Waiters carried silver trays filled with appetizers.
Elisa watched the crowd while rubbing her stomach.
The baby kicked gently.
At least someone was keeping her company.
She smiled sadly.
"Just a few more hours."
The baby kicked again.
Almost as if responding.
Then she heard laughter.
Sharp.
Artificial.
Cruel.
She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Valeria SantillĂĄn.
Valeria was everything IvĂĄn seemed to admire.
Rich.
Beautiful.
Connected.
Confident.
The daughter of a powerful investor.
And according to office rumors, far closer to IvĂĄn than any married man should have been.
Valeria approached with a glass of champagne in one hand.
Behind her came several friends.
All smiling.
All eager for entertainment.
Valeria looked Elisa up and down.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then she laughed.
"Oh my God."
Her friends leaned closer.
"What?"
Valeria pointed toward Elisa.
"I honestly thought she was hotel staff."
Laughter erupted.
Several people nearby glanced over.
Elisa felt her face warm.
But she remained calm.
"Good evening, Valeria."
"Oh, she speaks."
More laughter.
Valeria examined Elisa's dress.
"What are you wearing?"
Elisa didn't answer.
"Did you buy that online?"
Another laugh.
One of the women behind Valeria smirked.
"Maybe it's vintage."
"Maybe it's charity."
The group exploded again.
Elisa stood.
Slowly.
Carefully.
One hand resting on her stomach.
"I'm going outside."
Valeria stepped directly into her path.
"No."
The smile never left her face.
"We're having fun."
"I'm tired."
"So am I."
Valeria took a sip of champagne.
"But somehow I'm managing."
The tension attracted attention.
Guests began watching openly now.
Whispers spread through nearby tables.
Elisa felt trapped.
She wanted to leave.
She wanted fresh air.
She wanted to go home.
Instead, Valeria kept talking.
"Tell me something."
Elisa remained silent.
"Why did IvĂĄn marry you?"
The question hung in the air.
Valeria tilted her head.
"I've always wondered."
Her friends watched eagerly.
"He could have done so much better."
At that moment, IvĂĄn returned.
And instead of stopping itâ
He joined it.
"What's happening here?"
Valeria smiled.
"We're just getting to know your wife."
IvĂĄn sighed dramatically.
Already annoyed.
As if Elisa had caused the situation.
As if she always caused problems.
"I told you not to make a scene."
Elisa stared at him.
"I didn't."
"Then why is everyone looking over here?"
Because your friend is humiliating me.
Because nobody has manners.
Because you're letting it happen.
She wanted to say all of it.
Instead she said:
"I want to leave."
"No."
His answer came instantly.
Coldly.
Publicly.
Like an order.
Not a conversation.
Something inside Elisa cracked.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
The way ice cracks beneath heavy weight.
The way trust breaks.
One fracture at a time.
Valeria saw it happen.
And smiled.
Then she picked up a glass of red wine.
Slowly.
Almost playfully.
Several guests noticed.
A few frowned.
Nobody intervened.
Valeria looked directly into Elisa's eyes.
"Oops."
And poured the entire glass over her.
Red liquid cascaded down Elisa's dress.
Across her chest.
Across her stomach.
Across the fabric she had spent an hour carefully ironing earlier that afternoon.
The ballroom gasped.
A few women looked horrified.
Several men exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Still nobody moved.
Elisa stood frozen.
Humiliation burned hotter than anger.
She looked at IvĂĄn.
Waiting.
Praying.
For him to say something.
Anything.
Defend me.
Protect me.
Choose me.
Just once.
Insteadâ
He grabbed her arm.
Hard.
"You are ruining this night."
Elisa winced.
"You're hurting me."
"Then stop embarrassing me."
The grip tightened.
Pain shot through her wrist.
Suddenly the baby kicked sharply.
A painful movement.
Elisa instinctively pulled away.
IvĂĄn shoved her.
Not hard enough to knock over an ordinary person.
But Elisa wasn't ordinary right now.
She was seven months pregnant.
Off balance.
Standing on polished marble.
Her foot slipped.
And she fell.
Hard.
The entire ballroom gasped.
Elisa hit the floor sideways.
Protecting her stomach with both arms.
Pain exploded through her hip.
Her shoulder.
Her back.
For one terrifying secondâ
She couldn't breathe.
Valeria crouched beside her.
Smiling.
"Apologize."
Elisa looked up.
Tears mixed with wine.
"What?"
"Apologize to IvĂĄn."
The smile widened.
"On your knees."
The cruelty in her voice shocked even some of the guests.
Several people looked away.
Ashamed.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Elisa pushed herself upright.
She placed one hand over her belly.
The baby moved again.
Thank God.
Still moving.
Still alive.
Still okay.
"I'm not apologizing."
The ballroom fell silent.
Valeria's smile disappeared.
IvĂĄn's face darkened.
The attention of hundreds of people now rested entirely on them.
And in that momentâ
IvĂĄn made the worst decision of his life.
He looked around.
At the executives.
The investors.
The potential partners.
The people whose approval he wanted more than anything.
And he convinced himself that Elisa was the problem.
Not Valeria.
Not himself.
Her.
Then, in front of the entire ballroomâ
May you like
IvĂĄn raised his leg.
And kicked his pregnant wife in the side.
