Chapter 5

The next morning, my mom arrived right on time.

She didn't ring the doorbell, just used the key I'd given her to open the door.

Martinez was still asleep.

Antony was in the kitchen making porridge. When she saw my mom come in, she froze.

"Lester, so early..."

My mom ignored her and walked straight into the bedroom, yanking Martinez out from under the covers.

Martinez was pulled awake, dazed for a few seconds.

"Mom? How did you..."

My mom threw the printed chat logs in his face.

The papers scattered across the bed.

"What is this?"

Martinez picked up one sheet, glanced at it, and his face instantly went white.

"Mom, let me explain... this is... someone photoshopped this... someone's trying to frame me..."

Antony came running in after hearing the commotion and picked up a sheet of paper.

After reading it, her expression changed several times.

But the words she spoke completely froze my heart.

"Lester, I know about this. I've met that girl. She's quite decent."

"This whole thing—I told Martinez to find someone on the side."

My arms holding the baby tightened.

My mom turned around and stared at Antony.

"What did you say?"

Antony wiped the soup ladle on her apron, speaking with complete self-righteousness:

"Ulysses has been so moody since giving birth, treating Martinez like he doesn't exist. Martinez is a man—he has needs."

"Besides, Susan said she doesn't want any title or status, she just likes Martinez."

"Martinez hasn't cut Ulysses's household allowance. Men will be men—it's normal for them to play around outside."

She was still smiling. My mom stared at her, then spoke, her tone cold as ice.

"Are you saying you procured a prostitute for your own son?"

Antony's smile instantly froze.

"You... what are you saying? What prostitute..."

"No need to explain." My mom cut her off, her voice devoid of warmth.

"Martinez committed adultery during marriage and maintained an improper relationship with a third party. Your entire family knew, condoned it, and even covered it up."

"These chat records and transfer receipts—I've already submitted everything to the court."

Antony's face turned ashen.

Martinez panicked: "Mom... Mom, don't listen to her nonsense. Susan and I have nothing going on, really nothing..."

My mom didn't even glance at him, turning to me instead.

"Ulysses, is everything packed?"

"All packed."

I pulled the suitcase I'd packed from behind the closet.

Actually, I'd packed it long ago—on the tenth day postpartum, the night I received the first photo.

I held the baby in one arm and dragged the suitcase with the other, heading out.

Martinez rushed over to block me.

"Ulysses! Don't be ungrateful!"

Antony was shrieking behind him.

"Let her go! Leave the baby! A Martinez grandson can't be taken away by her!"

I turned to look at her.

"A Martinez grandson?"

I pulled out a sheet of paper from my bag and threw it in front of her.

"Look carefully. This is a paternity test."

"The child has absolutely nothing to do with the Martinez family."

Antony froze. Martinez froze too.

I held the baby and walked out that door.

The baby was asleep in my arms, little face pressed against my chest, warm.

I heard my own heartbeat, steady and strong.

Sitting in my mom's car, I looked at that door one last time.

My mom started the car and asked me.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"It's going to be hard from here on."

"I know." I looked at the sleeping baby in my arms.

"But I have no way back."

The car slowly drove out of the complex.

That door behind me—the door I'd spent three years of my youth going in and out of—grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

I withdrew my gaze.

Then I took out a USB drive from my bag. It contained all the evidence.

Chat records, transfer receipts, hotel check-in records, phone recordings, and the detailed accounts of Martinez's company's tax evasion.

Over three hundred gigabytes total. I gripped the USB drive tightly.

"Mom, help me schedule a lawyer."

"Who?"

"The most expensive one."