First of all, I would like to explain to you how I came up with this idea.

Well, the idea for this novel was born about 15 years ago.

Once my mom told me a story about a woman.

This lady was the mother of one of my elementary school classmates, she had a stepmother, I always thought it was her mother.

But when I was about 20 years old, my mother told me that the lady in front of our vegetable stand was actually my classmate's real mother.

She told me that when she had her last child with her husband, the father of my classmate, he abandoned her because the baby that was born had different physical characteristics than his.

In other words, he was a dark-haired, dark-eyed Moreno man, and the baby was born with white skin, light eyes, and blondish hair, so he thought it was not his son since he looked nothing like him, so it hadn't even been a day since the baby was born and the man dragged the lady and the baby out, accusing her of having been unfaithful to him.

He ran her off and did not allow her to see her two older children who did inherit their father's physical characteristics.

That's how she had to leave with a newborn baby, she had just given birth, and by the time this story was told to me, the baby was already a 17-year-old boy.

When I met him, his skin was a little white, his eyes were no longer so light, they had darkened a bit, and his hair was still light brown.

When I asked my mom, she told me that the baby really looked like his maternal grandfather since his maternal grandfather had that description, he was blond, light-eyed, and tall.

And then I got to thinking about my own little sister, when she was born and until she was 3 years old, she had fair skin with big, light eyes, also honey brown, and blond hair.

A golden blond like rays of sunshine. Over time, as she grew, her eyes remained the same color, her skin darkened a bit but was still whiter than mine, and her hair turned jet black, her appearance changed as she grew.

And that's when it occurred to me that it would be a novel inspired by these two stories.

Because if we think about the world, regardless of the era, social class, and regardless of culture, this type of situation happens a lot.

Even these days many people think that because a baby doesn't look like them, it's not their child, in fact, I've recently experienced it too, I live with a partner, we share expenses, she has three children.

The last one was born with fair skin, not to say that he is blond but he is brown but lighter, his father since he was born said that he was not his son.

Of course, there was someone envious who put ideas in his head to make him suspicious, so by believing her he refused to give him his last names saying that he was not his baby.

Now that the boy is 6 years old, many say that he looks a lot like his father, it could be true although I don't pay much attention to him because I say if he wanted a clone he would have photocopied himself and that way he would have gotten one.

Children are not clones, they are different people, sometimes looking like one is pure luck because it is not always like that, a child has both parents and uncles, whether from the father or mother, grandparents, great-grandparents, and many other ancestors and could look like any.

Or it could be the perfect combination of all of them, that's why the idea for this novel came to me.

I am going to set it in the colonial era of Mexico, at first I am not going to use dates, or I'm not quite sure yet if I will use dates but I will more or less place them.

I hope you like it and if you think that at some point I get lost while writing, please leave me a comment and I will try to review and fix what is not right, thank you.

Another thing, this will be my second novel that I write but I still haven't finished the previous one so the safest thing is that I will be uploading one chapter a day, if I'm lucky maybe two, but since there are already two novels, don't despair.

I will be updating both at the same time, such as one day one and another day the other.

Unless I am very tired, sick or have visitors, in which case I would have to dedicate time to my visitors. Besides, when I write, I do it at night since I have a job and writing is a hobby, besides, as I already told you, this novel occurred to me a long time ago.

And since that time it hasn't left my head and I think it's a good idea to capture it, I hope you like it.

Without further ado, I thank you for your support, ah, and if you have read something similar, please give me the information or the title to review it and try not to be the same after all, I don't think I am the only one who has come up with a similar idea.

Remember that great minds think alike, well that's what my chemistry teacher used to say. See you soon, please enjoy reading.

Thanks for your attention and keep reading.....

It was a stormy night in a grand county rich in fertile lands and vast forests alongside its towering mountains, where in the Count's mansion, the beautiful Countess was giving birth to her first child.

The labor had been hard; the Countess was struggling to give birth, being very young at only 17 years old.

In those times, it was normal to marry young and have children almost immediately.

The Count loved her, and his love was returned, but there are always envious people, and in this case, it was his cousin who planted doubts in the Count's mind, making him question the fidelity of his beautiful wife.

Thus, on a stormy night at midnight, the cries of a baby echoed, revealing a beautiful girl.

A beautiful girl with light eyes, porcelain-white skin, a little upturned nose, and golden blonde hair that even in the darkness shone like rays of sunshine due to its brightness; undoubtedly a beautiful girl, but there was a problem.

Her mother was not blonde, nor did she possess such fair skin, and her father, the Count, had a cinnamon complexion, dark hair, and deep brown eyes—handsome he was, yet his daughter had inherited none of his traits, which sparked the Count's fury.

This was irrefutable proof that his wife had been unfaithful, and to make matters worse, after bringing the child into the world, her mother closed her eyes, bidding farewell to life. Thus, the beautiful girl was left motherless with an uncertain future and a father who believed he was not her own.

That same night, the Count sent the child to the most secluded part of the mansion with a nursemaid; he did not care for her life, after all, she was not his daughter. If she were to die, it would be for the best; he felt betrayed and mocked in both love and pride.

That same night, the cousin took the opportunity and seduced the Count. In his pain and wounded pride, he succumbed to temptation, and eight months later, another girl was born.

This girl took the place of the true heiress, being spoiled, pampered, and adored, she became the light of her father's eyes.

Thus, condemning to ostracism the little girl born before, his eldest daughter, who from that day began to live a life filled with pain and sadness, feeling despised by her own father.

When she was still a baby, she initially grew up believing she had neither father nor mother until at the age of three one afternoon, she encountered the Count.

Upon seeing the precious girl with golden hair, he shouted that she was a bastard and not his daughter, but rather the shame of her mother, a child who should have never been born.

Drunk, the Count verbally mistreated her; that was how this little beauty learned that she was the illegitimate daughter of Count Alejandro Salvatierra.

Like many, she too did not know, but after discovering her status as the Count's despised daughter, she began to be mistreated by everyone; only the woman who had cared for her since birth treated her with affection, tending to her as if she were her own child, providing the only solace the small girl had.

From that day on, every servant, every person, knew that the beautiful girl was a bastard and that her own father despised her.

So, if the Count treated her with disdain, why would they treat her well? No one knew of this girl’s existence, and she was now condemned to mistreatment by all.

Despite believing she was not his daughter, the Count still provided her with what was necessary to live well due to her being legally his legitimate child, but since he himself declared that she was not his daughter, the servants who were supposed to care for her ignored her, and the cooks who should have supplied her with food set her aside; for them, it was shameful to serve a bastard.

And it was from then on that she understood she would not be the lady of the county, and if she wanted to live in peace—or at least as much as was possible—she would have to distance herself as much as possible from her father, her younger sister, and also from the Countess, who happened to be her aunt. Aranza Montiel was the name of her stepmother, and the name of her younger sister was Manuela Salvatierra, the little princess of her father.

The governess who was supposed to take charge of Evelyn's education was named after her mother before she passed away. In reality, she taught her nothing; the little she did teach was through harsh physical punishments, which were extremely severe.

This same governess also educated Manuela, whom she treated like the most delicate flower for being the legitimate and recognized daughter of the Count.

Thus, the little girl spent her early years until she turned eight.

Everything Evelyn learned, she learned on her own.

Evelyn was a beautiful girl, not just outwardly but also within; she was very intelligent and mature for her age. After all, who wouldn’t mature when treated harshly? Any child would.

Especially when they realize they must take care of themselves if they want a prosperous life, and the best way to avoid problems is to recognize them before they occur.

This was how little Evelyn grew slowly, with a wise and alert mind, hungry for knowledge that she acquired on her own since her father did not even bother to ensure she was treated well and educated properly.

The woman who had cared for her since she was a baby, named Josefa, had been her mother’s nurse and was now hers; for that reason, she was the only one who gave her love and protection.

But despite doña Josefa’s attempts to protect her, she could not always be by her side.

After all, Evelyn was a child, and like any child, she was very curious, so she could not be spared from suffering.

So, although Josefa wanted to shield her from all harm, resentment and envy were always present to hurt precious Evelyn. The main person who hated Evelyn was Aranza, her stepmother, who wished for her own daughter to be the only one and ensured that it would be so, poisoning the Count's heart without knowing that she would perhaps regret it far too much in the future.

My name is Evelyn Salvatierra. My father is Count Alejandro Salvatierra, and my mother, whom I never met, was named Amelia Rossi, daughter of a nobleman.

Until I was three years old, I always believed I had no parents. Nana took care of me and loved me very much. The people around me were kind and always said I was very pretty.

One afternoon, while I was playing, I ran into a man who seemed to be drunk. He started yelling at me and said words I didn't understand.

Words like bastard, trash, a wild animal, and many other words that my three-year-old mind didn't understand. But I did understand that this man didn't love me. He said words that stuck with me.

"Your mother was a cheap w*ore, a little woman who slept with the first man who crossed her path and still thought she could pass you off as my daughter. Because you are not my daughter. Look at yourself, you don't look anything like me, you didn't even inherit my hair."

"I only have you here because I can't get rid of you. I hope you grow up fast so I can use you somehow. I'm sure you'll be good for something, either to get more money, more land, or maybe to save your sister. She is my daughter, she looks like me, not like you."

Those are the words that man said, and then I understood.

This man was my father. I asked Nana, and she confirmed it. Then I asked her why he said he wasn't.

Nana explained that there were envious people who had poisoned his heart, making him believe lies, but that she would tell me properly later because I was still very young, and they were things I couldn't understand, at least not yet.

I asked her when I would be able to understand. She told me that I had about two or three years.

So I told her that I would study everything I could, I would read a lot, and after I learned to read and write, then I could understand what the words he said to me meant.

And I did. I tried very hard, but it wasn't in three years. At seven, I began to understand what others were saying. Because after the incident I had at the age of three, people started to mistreat and humiliate me.

But it wasn't until I was eight that I really understood what it was like to be the despised daughter of the Count.

It was exactly on my birthday when I discovered, in the cruelest and most painful way, what it was like to be unloved or the bastard, as everyone called me.

Even though they mistreated me and insulted me, I didn't care because I had Nana. She took care of me and loved me.

But bad luck struck again, and again I ran into Count Alejandro Salvatierra. This time he wasn't drunk, he was in his right mind. I found him in a place where he shouldn't be.

He never went to that place. It seems he was looking for me. I was playing among the trees where the forest began.

At that time, I had long blond hair that looked like rays of sunshine. My skin was white, and my eyes, which were once clear, now looked greenish or blue depending on which side you looked at them. Everyone said I was very pretty, at least those who loved me and cared about me.

Yes, I was different from the Duke. At least the features that stood out were different, and again I ran into the Duke, but again it was Manuela's fault.

She accused me of stealing something from her. I don't know what it was exactly because I never went where she was. I only watched her from afar. We never even exchanged words.

We never even touched. The Count looked for me, and when Nana tried to stop him, telling him that I was also his daughter, that he shouldn't treat me that way, he became enraged. He drew a dagger. For a moment I thought he was going to kill me. I was very scared, I wanted to run but I couldn't. I was paralyzed. I wanted to scream, but I was so scared that my voice wouldn't come out.

Only my eyes were crying, only my tears were rolling down my cheeks, but beyond that, I couldn't do anything.

I felt him grab my hair, and as he told me that I was a disgrace, that I should disappear, that I should never appear before him again, that he didn't even want to see a single hair on my head, and if possible, me neither.

That he had had enough of supporting me and giving me an education. And as he said this, he grabbed my hair and cut it. With each word, my beautiful blonde hair was cut and disappeared.

I tried to put my hands up to stop him, but he scratched my fingers.

I thought it could be dangerous, so I let my beautiful hair disappear.

After he finished cutting off all my hair, he slapped me and hit my hands, saying that I shouldn't touch what wasn't mine, and that if I did it again, this time he wouldn't cut my hair, he would cut my hands.

And if I said anything, he would cut my tongue, and I was not to appear before him or his family again.

That I should be happy that I was living well and that if I didn't do what he wanted, he would leave Nana and me to starve.

That's how, when I turned eight years old, I discovered the cruelty of my father.

Old Jose healed me and told me that my father was wrong to believe what they were saying about me.

That my father was poisoned, that they told him lies, but that I was his daughter and that one day he would regret it.

I told him that if that day ever came, I would not forgive him because I already hated him, and I wished I had never been born, that it would have been better if I had died instead of my mother.

Old Jose said that I shouldn't feel bad because I looked a lot like Grandmother Alondra, who was my father's mother.

But that right now my father was blind and didn't want to see what was in front of him, but that one day he would beg me for forgiveness on his knees.

He told me not to be filled with hatred, that I should be a good, smiling, and happy girl because there are people who do love me and will protect me, like him and Nana.

Nana said it would be best if I covered my head so that what happened now wouldn't happen again, because since my hair was a different color, it could cause me problems.

And since then, I have dressed in the loosest and oldest dresses. I have covered my head and never fixed myself up so as not to attract my father's attention. I almost saw myself as a nun, but to have a quiet life, at least until I can get out of here, this is the best I can do.

Although if one day he asks for my forgiveness, I will not forgive him because, after all, he is the person who has hurt me the most and has caused others to hurt me.

If I wasn't his daughter, fine, but it wasn't my fault.

He would have been better off sending me away, giving me up for adoption, or leaving me in an orphanage. I'm sure anything would have been better than feeling his contempt.

I think that the contempt of someone who should love you is much more painful than that of other people. After all, strangers have nothing to do with me.

So it's easier to ignore them because they don't matter to me, and I'm not interested in them. But my father is different because he's supposed to love me, and if someone lied to him, he should have investigated the truth and not just blindly believed it.

That's why I think I can't forgive him. Besides, over time I've learned that if someone hurts me, I'll make them pay, because that's the only way this pressure I feel in my heart and chest will disappear.

Only then will my heart be free, and I will no longer feel this pain that doesn't let me breathe.

I don't want to feel any more pain, so from now on, whoever hurts me, I will hit them back, no matter who they are, even if it's my father. He too will suffer, not now, but in the future I will make him pay for all the pain he is causing me now, and I don't care if they call me a bad person just for wanting a little revenge....To feel the same pain that I feel now will be the best revenge...