I never thought kneeling before a small maid’s daughter would expose the secret my cruel fiancée hid and destroy my engagement in seconds.

The next five days were a blur of activity and anxiety.

Diego's private investigators worked around the clock, following every lead, every hint, every faint trace of Carlos Mendoza.

Diego himself spent his days fighting to save his company. He met with the board, with investors, with forensic accountants who were trying to prove the documents were fake.

But the damage was already done.

The public had turned against him. The headlines were brutal.

"Villaseñor Empire on the Brink of Collapse Amid Fraud Allegations."

"Secret Love Child, Embezzlement Scandal—Is This the End for Mexico's Golden Boy?"

"Paulina Robles Vindicated? New Evidence Suggests Billionaire's Betrayal Went Far Beyond Infidelity."

People who had once supported us now hesitated. Even some of Diego's own family members started to distance themselves, afraid of being tainted by the scandal.

Through it all, I tried to keep life as normal as possible for Valentina.

I didn't let her watch the news. I didn't tell her about the stock prices or the board meetings or the possibility that we might lose everything.

I just held her. I played with her. I told her stories. I tried to make her feel safe, even when I didn't feel safe myself.

But she was perceptive. She felt the tension in the house. She saw how tired Diego was, how worried I was.

One night, as I was tucking her into bed, she looked up at me with those serious dark eyes.

"Mama? Is Papa going to be okay?"

The question caught me off guard.

Papa.

She had started calling Diego that a few days before, shyly at first, then with more confidence. He had cried when he heard it.

I sat down on the edge of her bed and brushed the hair from her face.

"Papa is going to be fine, mi amor. He's just working very hard right now."

"Is the bad lady hurting him?"

I took a deep breath.

"The bad lady is trying to make things difficult for him. But Papa is strong. And he has us to help him."

Valentina thought about this for a moment.

Then she reached under her pillow and pulled out the golden button—the one she had found in the hallway that day everything changed.

She held it out to me.

"Give this to Papa," she said seriously. "It's my lucky button. It will make everything better."

My throat tightened.

I took the small golden button from her hand.

"Thank you, mi amor. I'm sure it will."

I kissed her goodnight and went to find Diego.

He was in his study, surrounded by papers, his head in his hands.

I sat down beside him and placed the golden button on the desk in front of him.

"Valentina sent this," I said softly. "She says it's your lucky button. That it will make everything better."

Diego looked at the button, and a faint smile touched his lips. He picked it up, turning it over in his fingers.

"She's so much like you," he said. "Good. Kind. Strong."

He looked at me.

"I don't know what I would do without you two."

Just then, his phone rang.

It was the lead investigator.

Diego answered, and I watched his face change as he listened.

Hope.

Excitement.

Determination.

When he hung up, he turned to me, his eyes alive.

"They found him."

"Carlos?"

"He's in a small town on the coast, in a rented house. He's been laying low this whole time. And Paulina has been visiting him. Regularly. We have photos of her going into his house, staying for hours, leaving in the middle of the night."

My heart started racing.

"Does this prove they're working together?"

"It's a start," Diego said, already standing up, grabbing his jacket. "But we need more. We need proof that they forged those documents. Proof that they were behind the threats, the break-in at Valentina's window, everything."

He looked at me.

"I'm going there. Now. With the investigators. We're going to confront him."

"I'm coming with you."

Diego hesitated.

"Marisol, it could be dangerous. If Carlos is desperate, if he has nothing left to lose..."

"I'm coming," I said firmly. "I need to see him. I need to hear him admit what he did. To us. To Valentina."

Diego looked at me, and he nodded.

"Okay. But you stay behind me. Whatever happens, you stay behind me."

We left Valentina with the nanny and drove through the night.

Three hours later, we arrived at the small coastal town. The investigator was waiting for us in an unmarked car, parked down the street from a modest white house with blue shutters.

Lights were on inside.

"That's him," the investigator said quietly. "He's alone. Paulina left earlier this evening."

Diego looked at me.

"Ready?"

I nodded, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs.

We walked up to the house. Diego knocked on the door.

Nothing.

He knocked again, louder.

This time, we heard movement inside. The sound of a window opening in the back.

"He's trying to run!" the investigator shouted.

He and his team ran around the side of the house. Diego and I followed.

We got to the backyard just in time to see a man climbing over the back fence. He was middle-aged, with thinning hair, wearing jeans and a t-shirt.