Chapter 11

I pushed him away with disgust and slapped him hard. Joaquin slowly turned his head, his eyes bloodshot, his beard unkempt. He laughed, his voice hoarse and unpleasant. "Feel relieved, or give me another slap," he rasped.

I shook my head. "I don't want to hit you; it would hurt my hand. Have you signed the agreement?"

Joaquin became agitated. "I will not divorce! Why should I? Haven't you also been unfaithful? How does it feel to be with a young boy?"

I was taken aback; he was referring to Dariel. My daughter had already entered the bedroom, silencing my concerns.

"Joaquin, I have evidence of your infidelity. If you don't want to ruin your reputation, sign the contract."

"My daughter returned to me, and the property was divided equally. I have been kind and fair."

"Don't even think about accusing me of infidelity. Without proof, I will sue you for defamation."

Joaquin broke down, his gaze heavy as he slowly knelt. "Diana, please don't divorce me. I've never had parents, and what's wrong with wanting a complete family?"

I laughed. "Who are you trying to disgust with this appearance? After the divorce, you can find your Nyla. Didn't you want a son? Well, there's one readily available."

Joaquin remained on the ground, understanding my resolve. He began slapping himself repeatedly. Too weary to watch, I turned and went inside to pack.

Even after losing his daughter, Joaquin didn't give up, fighting me for custody. He overestimated himself. During the trial, our daughter spoke slowly and deliberately: "Dad, you never liked me. Why did you take me away? I'm sure you won't cherish me. I love Mom and want to be with her."

Joaquin's attempts to deceive his daughter failed; her heartfelt words in court finally humbled him. The outcome was clear: I won the divorce and custody.

But Joaquin didn't marry Nyla either. Nyla's frequent suicide threats proved insincere, until she finally slit her wrists in the bathtub. Joaquin, meanwhile, was consoling himself with another woman.

I returned to my hometown with my daughter. My parents provided a small house, sufficient for us. When busy, Lia automatically went to her grandmother's for dinner. I was relieved.

Dariel showed interest, but I wasn't desperate. Freed from Joaquin's control, I examined myself. I wasn't as bad as he claimed. I was presentable, moderately fit, financially secure, and had a child—a perfectly acceptable life. I enjoyed it immensely. My second life had begun.