4

Sabrina’s POV

Elly didn’t hesitate. The moment she saw him, she ran forward, her arms stretched wide. “Daddy! Daddy! Look at my dress!”

My heart clenched.

But Archie’s face drained of color. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

He moved quickly, reaching for her, eyes darting around the room. “Elly? Who brought you here? Where’s your mother?”

He wasn’t happy to see her, wasn’t even surprised.

He was panicked.

And in that moment, the truth hit me like a slap.

That message… it wasn’t from Archie.

He hadn’t remembered the promise or prepared anything for Elly.

Whispers began floating in the air, sharp as broken glass.

“Who is that rude little girl? Calling a man she doesn’t know her daddy?”

“Isn’t Archie’s child still in Betty’s belly?”

“I thought Archie never married. Where’d this kid even come from?”

“Probably just some desperate woman trying to pawn her kid off on him for money.”

“Look at her. She looks like the type.”

Archie’s face flushed a dark red—embarrassed, angry, or both. He stepped forward, too quickly, too harshly. “Who is this child?” he snapped. “I’m no father to her. Someone get her out of here.”

And just like that, he shoved Elly.

Not hard, but hard enough for her little legs to stumble and send her tumbling backward onto the polished floor.

I was at her side in a heartbeat, gathering her in my arms, bracing for tears—but there were none.

Elly blinked up at him, then down at her shoes. “Sorry, Mr. Valez… I thought …”

I held her tight, my heart shattering into splinters. “You’ve done nothing wrong, baby. Nothing.”

But still, she looked toward him with hope.

She pointed at the towering cake beside the champagne fountain. “Is that the cake Mr. Valez’s surprise for me? Can I blow the candle on it?”

Before I could answer, a sugary voice cut through the air like poison honey.

“No, you can’t,” Betty crooned, gliding toward us in a tight cocktail dress. Her heels clicked like daggers. “That’s my cake. And only I can blow out the candles.”

She leaned down, lips barely curved. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners? When you go to someone else’s party, you don’t act entitled. And sweetheart, you don’t run around calling strange men your daddy. It’s rude. Isn’t that right, Archie?”

The smug look she threw me was almost comical in its gloating.

Now I knew who sent that message.

It was probably Betty. Her need to humiliate me. To make it clear to the world—and the press—that Elly was not a Valez. That she would never be a Valez.

Only her baby mattered now.

I stood, still cradling Elly in my arms, and leveled my gaze at Archie. “Was Elly too rude to call you daddy?”

He hesitated. He actually hesitated. And then he gave his verdict.

“Yes,” he said, stiffly. “It was inappropriate… to go around calling anyone you like daddy, little girl.”

My blood turned to ice.

Betty slid her arm around his, victorious.

And that was it. The whispers returned, uglier now. No longer subtle.

“Shameless little brat. Just like her mother.”

“Hah. Told you Archie only had one kid, and it’s growing inside Betty.”

“Where’d this one come from anyway? Maybe she calls every man she sees daddy.”

“Let’s hope she grows out of it. Wouldn’t want her calling her boyfriend daddy next.”

I looked down at Elly. Her eyes were glassy, but her expression was calm.

Too calm.

I prayed she didn’t understand.

I gently set her down, kissed her forehead, and stepped forward. Walked straight up to the champagne tower.

And with one swift motion, I tipped it over.

Glass shattered like firecrackers. Bubbly wine sprayed across the polished floors. Gasps rippled like a wave.

I turned, smiling sweetly. “Such a beautiful day, isn’t it? I thought I’d make a toast for the birthday girl.”

Then I shrugged. “Oops. I slipped. Better luck next time.”

Silence fell like a bomb.

For the first time in years, I’d let them see a glimpse of the real me.

They had no idea who they were dealing with.