Ricardo.
The man who once promised her forever.
The man who looked away as their newborn daughter, Sofia, died in her arms.
The man who left soon after, claiming she was “too damaged” to be a wife or a mother.
Now, his expression was sharp with disdain.
“I can’t believe this… Emília?” he sneered. “Still living like the poor, washed-up woman I walked away from.”
The expensive scent of his cologne clashed cruelly with the mud dripping from her clothes.
“Look at you,” he continued. “Buying groceries like a desperate housewife. Couldn’t even keep a proper husband.”
His gaze dropped to her stomach, and his smile twisted.
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