Chapter 9
Three months after Hugo and I started dating, Dad called me in Miami.
“Emmy, could you come home for a visit? I miss my daughter.”
Something in his voice made me pause. Dad wasn’t the type to ask for things. “Is everything okay?”
“Just… it would be nice to see you.”
When I arrived in New York, I found Dad had lost significant weight. Medical bills were scattered across his
kitchen table.
“Dad, what’s going on?”
He sighed heavily. “Lung cancer, Emmy. Stage three. I didn’t want to worry you when you were just getting your life back together.”
‘I’m staying,” I said immediately. “I’m moving back to take care of you.”
‘Absolutely not-”
‘It’s not a discussion, Dad.”
So I packed up my Miami life and moved back home. Hugo was understanding, promising to visit regularly
and make the long-distance work.
For the first year, he kept that promise. But as time passed-five long years of watching Dad’s health slowly decline-I began noticing changes in Hugo, especially regarding Bella.
t started small. Hugo would spend extra time chatting with Bella at family dinners, praising her jewelry designs with genuine enthusiasm. When she needed career advice, he’d dedicate entire evenings to eviewing her portfolio. When she mentioned wanting to expand her business, Hugo offered to connect her
with investors.
She’s really something special,” he’d tell me after particularly animated conversations with her. “Your
tepsister has real talent.”
The favoritism became impossible to ignore. Hugo remembered every detail of Bella’s achievements while Forgetting our anniversary. He’d drive across town to help her with car trouble but cancel our date nights for
work emergencies.” When she entered design competitions, he’d personally deliver recommendation
etters.
“She’s family, Emily. And she has genuine potential. I’m just being supportive.”
But the way his whole demeanor changed around her-the way he became animated, attentive, alive in ways I rarely saw anymore-felt like much more than family support.
By the fifth year, Dad’s condition had deteriorated significantly. The doctors were talking about weeks, not
months.
“Hugo,” I said during one of his visits, “Dad wants to see me married before he dies. We’ve been together five years now. Don’t you think it’s time?”
He hesitated, and in that pause, I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
“Of course,” he finally said. “You’re right. Let’s plan something simple.”
We arranged a small ceremony for the following Saturday. Dad was so excited he insisted on renting a tuxedo despite needing a wheelchair to get around.
‘I’m going to see my Emmy get married,” he told everyone at the cancer center, his face glowing with pride despite his frailty.
Saturday came. At noon, wearing my simple white dress, I stood with Dad in his rented tuxedo while our small group of friends waited.
Hugo never showed.
When I called his phone, Bella answered.
‘Emily, I’m so sorry. Hugo had a work emergency this morning. He feels terrible about missing the ceremony, but you know how these client situations are…”
Through the phone, I could hear restaurant sounds-casual conversation, laughter, the clink of glasses. No emergency. Just Hugo choosing to be elsewhere on what should have been our wedding day.
Dad squeezed my hand with what little strength he had left. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t need him to be
complete.”
Three days later, Dad passed away peacefully. I was alone, holding his hand, while Hugo was nowhere to be
found.
It was already past midnight when I finished dealing with my father’s funeral arrangements. I returned to my cold room and took off the cheap rented wedding dress that had never seen its purpose.
Ten hours had passed since I sent Hugo Roberts the breakup message.
This wasn’t the first time Hugo had abandoned me for his secretary, Bella Lopez.
Bella was his personal secretary and my stepsister.
