Alejandra’s truth
That same morning I called Alejandra. We met at a café.
“I saw it too,” she confessed. “I didn’t know if you’d believe me if you didn’t see it yourself.”
I had found copies of my signature on notarized documents. Rafael was in debt, pressured by Leonel. They were planning to sell the apartment “for my own good.”
“It’s not love,” she said. “It’s desperation.”
For the first time since that dawn, I didn’t feel completely alone.
Protect what is mine
That afternoon we went into a law office specializing in elderly cases. Attorney García listened calmly to everything.
“This could be considered financial exploitation,” he said. “We will act immediately.”
I signed documents with firm hands and a broken heart: protection of the property, freezing of accounts, revocation of the power of attorney.
Protecting him hurt. Because it meant accepting that my own son had become a threat.
