hapter 2
Six years later, Bertha Estrada stepped back onto Los Angeles soil.
She hauled her suitcase off the train, her gaze sweeping over the familiar cityscape. A bittersweet pang stirred in her chest, an ache she couldn’t quite name.
Back then, Marcus’s accusation of infidelity had thrust her into a storm of scandal.
A month after her exile, she discovered she was pregnant. The news cemented Marcus’s claims in the eyes of the world, and vicious gossip nearly drowned her.
Her adoptive parents, ashamed of her so–called disgrace and deeming her useless, severed all ties and cast her
out.
She knew the child belonged to the stranger from that night. Abortion crossed her mind, but her heart wouldn’t let her go through with it.
They were her children, too.
The bond of motherhood felt like fate, and no matter the hardship, she resolved to bring those children into
the world and raise them with love.
Fearing her tarnished reputation might shadow her children’s future, she fled Los Angeles for the quiet of the countryside.
Life as a pregnant woman alone was grueling. Finding work was her greatest hurdle; most employers balked at hiring a pregnant woman.
But she had no choice. She needed money.
She needed to eat, to afford hospital visits for the birth, to buy formula, and to save for her child’s education.
Eventually, she landed a job at a small diner. Terrified of being let go, she worked harder than anyone, never taking a day off.
The toll was heavy. Malnutrition and exhaustion wore her down.
At nine months pregnant, her body gave out, and she collapsed on her way home from work.
Strangely, when she awoke, she and her newborns were in a secluded mountain estate.
To this day, she didn’t know what had happened.
Who had performed her cesarean?
Who had brought her and her children to the estate?
And why had they been taken there?
Her rescuer claimed to have stumbled upon them by chance, taking pity and bringing them to safety.
Bertha lived there for five years.
Those
years were a haven of peace, joy, and carefree happiness.
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But as her children grew, she began to worry about their education and their future.
The mountains were idyllic but isolated. Their rescuer was their only companion, and one day, that would be gone, leaving just her and the children.
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She didn’t want her children to live such an aimless life. They deserved to see the world’s wonders, to chase its
opportunities.
After much thought, she bade farewell to their savior and brought her children down from the mountains.
Los Angeles was the last place she wanted to return to. The trauma of six years ago still lingered.
But when she tried to register her children for household records, she was stunned to learn she was still legally
married.
She hadn’t expected that.
After all, she had signed the divorce papers back then!
Confused and unable to unravel the mystery, she faced a new problem. As a married woman, registering her children would automatically list Marcus as their father.
The Gonzalez family was powerful, and Marcus had never wanted her. He would never accept her children.
To register them properly, she needed to finalize the divorce first.
That was why she had come back to Los Angeles–to find Marcus and end their marriage.
She held no grudge against him for his actions.
After all, she had wronged him first, in a way. His accusation of infidelity wasn’t entirely wrong.
If she harbored any resentment, it was for the stranger who stole her innocence that night.
Because of him, she had endured so much pain.
Yet, she was also grateful to him, for he had given her three precious children.
Mommy, I need to pee,” her youngest son said, tugging shyly at her sleeve.
Bertha snapped out of her thoughts, her heart warming at the sight of her three children.
That night had turned her life upside down, but it had also given her these treasures, and that made it all worthwhile.
Her children were her pride.
Her eldest, Alfred Estrada, was a little gentleman. Quiet but commanding, he carried himself with the poise of
a leader, his intelligence and empathy shining through every word and deed.
Her second son, Jacob Estrada, was the opposite of her third, Ethan Estrada.
Jacob was a whirlwind of energy, mischievous and scrappy, dreaming of becoming an unbeatable fighter.
Ethan, her little crybaby, was timid by nature.
He might not match his brothers‘ sharpness, but he was a gentle soul, a warm–hearted boy who could cook meals so delicious they rivaled a chefs.
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He had a knack for style, too. The perfume Bertha wore now was Ethan’s creation.
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With just a few fruits or a bouquet of flowers, he could create a fragrance unlike anything on the market–no harsh chemicals, just a soft blend of floral and fruity notes. Light, elegant, fresh.
Ethan’s talents didn’t stop there. He had a gift for design, sketching clothing and jewelry with effortless
Bertha often thought whoever married Ethan would be the luckiest person alive.
grace.
She smiled at him, her expression soft with love.
“Alright, sweetheart, let’s go. Alfred, Jacob, do you two need the bathroom?”
Alfred and Jacob shook their heads in unison. “Nope!”
“Okay, then wait here for Mommy and Ethan. Don’t wander off. I’m taking Ethan to the restroom.”
“Got it,” they replied.
Bertha took Ethan’s hand and headed to the restrooms. At the entrance, she knelt down to his level.
“Ethan, you go to the boys‘ room, and I’ll go to the girls‘. If you finish first, wait right here for me, okay?”
“Okay!” Ethan nodded eagerly, his little legs scampering into the men’s room.
Bertha watched his retreating figure with a fond smile before turning to the women’s restroom.
Ethan was quick. Keeping his word, he didn’t wander, standing patiently outside the restrooms for his mother.
Suddenly, a group of black–clad bodyguards appeared, escorting a woman dressed in dazzling finery, striding toward them.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
