The next day, I lay in a hospital bed, overwhelmed by the events of the previous day. My body ached, my heart was heavy, and the uncertainty surrounding my unborn child’s health weighed on my mind. The anonymous message I had received replayed in my head. Could it be true? Could Judge Santiago Herrera, the man who had witnessed my humiliation and pain, really be my father?
I decided to respond to the message, my fingers trembling as I typed. “I am Elena Márquez. What do you know about my father?” I sent it, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Meanwhile, the court proceedings against Javier and Lucía continued. The incident in the courtroom had not only swung public sympathy decisively in my favor, but it had also prompted a media frenzy. Camera crews and reporters were camped outside the hospital, eager for any updates on my condition and the trial’s progression.
