At my divorce hearing, eight months pregnant, the judge gave me nothing. My husband smirked, “Let’s see how you survive without me.” Then a billionaire walked in and said, “My daughter is better off without you.” His victory shattered instantly.

I gripped the table.

“The death certificate was falsified. Social workers were bribed. Records were altered. The child was placed into foster care under the name Mariana Torres.”

My knees weakened.

All my life, I thought I had been abandoned.

But I had been stolen.

Catalina looked at me with unbearable pain.

“I never stopped looking for you.”

Hector slammed his fist on the table.

“This is madness! Mariana, tell them I cared for you!”

I stared at him. He had held me while I cried about having no family. He knew my deepest fear was my child being born without protection.