Chapter 31

Clarisse paced back and forth in her elegant hotel room in Paris, holding her phone tightly in one hand, her nails tapping rhythmically against the screen. She had tried to stay calm during her call with Lorenzo, but his abrupt reaction and the way he hung up on her had felt like a slap to her ego. No one left her talking alone, especially not him.

She stopped in front of the large mirror in the living room, staring at her reflection. Her image showed a perfect facade: flawless, calculated, yet her eyes betrayed the fury burning inside her. Frustrated, she tossed the phone onto the sofa and crossed her arms.

-Lorenzo doesn't understand what's best for him -she murmured through gritted teeth-. He's always been too naive, too soft with the wrong people.

The name "Margaret" echoed in her mind, igniting a deeper anger. There was something about that woman, her constant presence, that was unbearable. Margaret had managed to secure a privileged place in Lorenzo's life, and he seemed increasingly focused on her.

Clarisse walked toward the table where a glass of red wine awaited her. She picked it up delicately, though her hands trembled with rage. Taking a sip, she stared out the window at the glowing lights of Paris while plotting her next move.

-If I got rid of Amelia, I can do the same with Margaret -she said softly, almost as a vow.

She remembered how she had orchestrated Amelia's departure. The thought brought a malicious smile to her lips. Lorenzo's mother, Valeria, and she had been flawless in their strategy: subtle humiliations here and there, planting doubts in the relationship, feigning illnesses, and manipulating Lorenzo into believing whatever they wanted. It had been a slow game, but an effective one.

-Amelia never had the strength to stay. She broke and left. Margaret won't be any different -she reassured herself, her voice filled with cold certainty.

Clarisse knew Lorenzo was slipping away, that he was no longer the easily manipulated man he once was. But that didn't matter. As long as she could control the narrative, she wouldn't let any woman-Amelia in the past or Margaret in the present-stand in the way of her rightful place beside Lorenzo.

Finishing her wine, she placed the glass firmly on the table. Her gaze hardened with determination. She went to her desk and began sifting through papers and contacts, seeking a way to reach Margaret without Lorenzo knowing.

-If you can't convince him, destroy what distracts him -she whispered, scribbling something in her planner.

For Clarisse, emotions were irrelevant. Control was all that mattered, and she was determined to regain it at any cost.

\---

That afternoon, Margaret decided to take a break from work. She had been immersed in her latest jewelry collection and needed some time to unwind and enjoy with Mateo. Dressed in casual yet elegant clothing, she stepped out with her son, heading to one of the most exclusive shopping districts in Paris.

-Can we go to the toy store, Mom? -Mateo asked, his tone a mix of excitement and sweetness that always melted Margaret's heart.

-Of course, but first, I want to look at a dress. Is that okay? -she replied, holding his small hand as they walked past the bright, luxurious shop windows.

They entered a high-end boutique, one of Margaret's favorites. Mateo, as always, began exploring with curiosity, approaching mannequins and discreetly touching the fabrics. Margaret kept an eye on him as she browsed through the racks of dresses.

-Mateo, don't wander too far, please -she said with a smile.

But children, with their boundless energy, always find a way to move faster than expected. Mateo ran toward the fitting rooms and accidentally bumped into a woman who had just stepped out.

-Oh! -the woman exclaimed, taking a step back.

-Sorry! -Mateo quickly said, looking up at her with wide, sincere eyes.

The woman, none other than Clarisse, bent down to look at the child more closely. Her initial look of annoyance transformed into something entirely different: astonishment.

-Are you okay? -she asked, though her voice sounded distracted. Her eyes scanned every feature of the boy, from his dark hair to those familiar eyes that seemed to pierce through her.

Margaret, noticing Mateo's absence, turned and saw the scene. As she approached, her heart sank at the sight of Clarisse.

-Mateo, sweetheart, come here -Margaret called out, extending her hand calmly though her mind was racing.

Mateo ran to her, clinging to her skirt. Margaret placed a protective hand on his shoulder as her eyes met Clarisse's.

-I apologize if my son caused you any trouble -Margaret said, maintaining her composure even though her thoughts raced wildly.

Clarisse didn't respond immediately. She was too preoccupied, staring at the child, her mind making connections at lightning speed. That face there was something undeniable about it.

-No need to worry it's fine -she finally replied, but her voice was distant. Then, in a tone that tried to sound casual, she added: -Is he your son?

-Yes, he is -Margaret answered firmly, her hand tightening slightly on Mateo's shoulder.

Clarisse smiled, but it was a tense smile, as though she was processing something she couldn't yet fully grasp.

-He's charming -she said, though her eyes remained fixed on Mateo, searching his features for confirmation of what she was starting to suspect.

-Thank you. Well, if you'll excuse us, we have other things to do -Margaret said, feeling the weight of Clarisse's gaze like an interrogation.

She took Mateo's hand and began walking toward the exit. But as she did, Clarisse's voice stopped her in her tracks:

-Who is his father?

Margaret froze but didn't turn around. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let Clarisse see her falter.

-Good day, Clarisse -was all she said before leaving the boutique with firm steps.

Clarisse remained standing, her mind filled with questions and a new spark of determination. If what she had just seen was true, Margaret had far more than a talent for design-she had a secret that could change everything.

Clarisse exited the boutique moments later, but she didn't follow them. Instead, she stood on the sidewalk, watching Margaret and the boy disappear into the bustling Paris streets. Something inside her refused to settle, as though every fiber of her being screamed that the child was more than a mere coincidence.

Frowning, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

-I need you to investigate someone for me -she said firmly when the call connected-. Margaret, the designer. She lives in Paris and has a young son. I need to know everything about her. Quickly.

She placed the phone back into her purse, standing still for a moment as she replayed the encounter in her mind. She couldn't shake the image of that boy. The same eyes, the same expression she had seen countless times in Lorenzo. If there was one thing Clarisse excelled at, it was recognizing details.

\---

Meanwhile, Margaret and Mateo were walking toward a nearby park, seeking a quiet spot away from the busy streets.

-Why was that lady looking at me so much, Mom? -Mateo asked, his voice innocent but curious.

Margaret gently stroked his hair, trying to calm herself so Mateo wouldn't sense her worry.

-Maybe she thought you were very handsome -she replied with a soft smile.

-Really? -Mateo asked, delighted.

-Of course, sweetheart. But now we need to hurry, okay?

Margaret knew she shouldn't overthink the encounter, but she couldn't help feeling that Clarisse had seen more than she should. That woman wasn't foolish, and if she began to suspect anything about Mateo, she wouldn't hesitate to use it against her.