Shirley shot Alice an impatient look. “You and your mess with that man?”
Alice took a deep breath, like she needed every ounce of strength just to speak. She lowered her voice, her words trembling. “Shirley, he’s not just some random guy. He’s...” Alice squeezed her eyes shut, pain written all over her face. “He’s your real father.”
The coffee spoon slipped from Shirley’s hand and clattered onto the table. Her eyes went wide, like she’d just heard the wildest joke in the world. “What did you just say?”
Seeing the pain in Alice’s eyes, Shirley’s own voice shook. She almost growled, “Mom, what are you talking about? My father is Nestor.”
Right then, even being an illegitimate child sounded better than whatever truth Alice was about to dump on her.
Now Alice was saying she wasn’t Nestor’s real daughter at all? The identity she’d always been so proud of, the reason she dared to fight for the family fortune—was that all just a lie?
Was she really just... the kid Alice had with some nobody?
“Shirley, keep your voice down.” Alice glanced nervously around the café. Luckily, there weren’t many people nearby. She kept going. “I’m not making this up. When I got pregnant with you, your real father was just too poor. There was no way he could provide for you. I wanted you to have a better life, so I got together with Nestor.” Alice’s voice wavered, part pleading, part choked with tears. “Everything I did, I did for you. If I hadn’t, how could you have become part of the Blair family? How would you be living the way you are now?”
Shirley’s face turned ghostly white. Humiliation and anger twisted her features. “So, I’m not really Nestor’s daughter? I’m just the kid you had with some broke guy?”



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