The baby clung to her neck as if the world were ending. Amanda rocked her, kissing her head.
“I’m here, my love. No one will hurt you.”
Roberto finally recognized her.
“You… the scammer,” he spat. “How much do you want this time?”
Amanda looked at him, eyes burning, no tears yet.
“I don’t want anything from you. I never did. I just wanted you to take responsibility for your daughter.”
“That thing isn’t mine,” Roberto growled. “You set it all up to trap me.”
Shame turned into dignity.
“You promised you’d be there. Then you disappeared. Blocked me. Threatened me. When I sent you her photo, you blocked me again. When I asked for a DNA test, you said I was crazy.”
The words fell heavy. No one knew where to look.
Arthur watched Bia. The curls. The eyes. The shape of her nose. Something felt painfully familiar.
“How old is she?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
“A year and a half,” Amanda said.
Arthur calculated quickly. His gaze hardened. He looked at Roberto, then at the baby’s neck.
“What’s her name?”
“Beatriz… but I call her Bia.”
Arthur stepped closer. Bia, still crying, went quiet. As if something about him didn’t signal danger. Arthur looked closely—and saw it.