After my son’s funeral, I never mentioned the second house, nor the 33 million pesos he left me. A week later, my daughter-in-law told me, “Pack your things. The house has already been sold.” I smiled. I had been ready for a while. But they weren’t my things. I stood there, in front of Alejandro’s gleaming wooden coffin, my son, my heart shattered.

The crowd passed by in silence, with slight bows, whispers of condolence. Everything slipping away like a gust of cold air. Alejandro, my boy, the one who until recently laughed, talked, and hugged me tightly every time he came to visit. Now he lay motionless. That damned cancer had taken him. After months of tireless struggle, I looked at his kind face in the photo on the coffin, and his eyes still seemed to search for mine, as if he wanted to say something, but all that remained was the silence that crushed my chest.

To one side, Isa, my daughter-in-law, was hugging Valeria tightly. My granddaughter Isa was crying uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “From now on, we only have each other,” she repeated over and over, her voice breaking. I watched her, moved and confused at the same time. Isa had always been strong, sharp-witted, but today she seemed on the verge of breaking. Valeria was silent, her eyes red, clutching her cell phone as if it were the only thing keeping her going.

I wanted to reach out and hug them both, tell them I was still here, that we would get through this together. But my throat closed up and I couldn’t say a word. Mrs. López, my neighbor of so many years, came over and placed her wrinkled hand on my shoulder. “Isa is very strong,” she murmured sympathetically. “Her son will be at peace seeing her like this.” I nodded slightly, forcing a smile, though inside it was empty. At peace. Alejandro didn’t know that.

My son left too soon, leaving a void impossible to fill. As people began to leave, the funeral home grew quieter. Isa approached and took my hand. It was icy cold, but her eyes held a steady gaze. “Mom,” she said hoarsely, “this house is too big and expensive. I think we should sell it.” I hadn’t even answered when she continued with the swiftness of someone who had already made up her mind. “With the money, we can move to a smaller place. And also pay for Valeria’s university tuition.”

Alejandro is gone. We can’t afford this house anymore. Her words pierced me like a knife. Not because of the idea of ​​selling, but because of the abrupt way she said them, as if everything had been settled without consulting me. I looked at Valeria, waiting for her to intervene, but she just lowered her head, scrolling through her phone, her lips pressed tightly together. I put my hand on Isa’s shoulder and nodded, not because I agreed, but because I didn’t want to argue on a day when my soul was crumbling from the loss of my son.

The priest appeared, his voice grave. He asked everyone to prepare for the final rite. I stepped aside, avoiding the swirling crowd. Suddenly, an attendant accidentally bumped into me, and I almost fell. At that moment, I heard Isa’s voice, barely distinguishable above the murmur. She leaned toward someone I knew and whispered, “After the funeral, I’ll have to take care of the estate.” What a nuisance! I froze. I felt my heart stop. Annoyance. Alejandro’s inheritance from our family was a nuisance to her.

I kept telling myself I’d misheard, that the noise had made me understand something else. But those words kept circling in my head, like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. I wanted to go over and ask, but my legs felt like they were glued to the floor. I just stood there, watching Isa. Continuing the conversation. Her face was still etched with sadness, as if nothing had happened. The funeral ended, and I went back to the house. Now only mine. The large living room, once filled with Alejandro’s laughter, felt icy cold.

I sat down in the old armchair where he used to lie and watch TV, and a feeling of emptiness enveloped me completely. The family photos on the wooden shelf, the things Alejandro had left behind—everything seemed to remind me that my son was truly gone. I covered my face with my hands, and tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I hadn’t just lost Alejandro; I had also lost that sense of family security that I had built over so many years.

That night the doorbell rang. I quickly dried my tears, opened the door, and saw Isa and Valeria standing there with their hands full of suitcases. Isa looked at me. Her eyes softened. “Mom shouldn’t stay here alone. It’s very dangerous,” she said, her voice filled with worry. “I thought it would be best if we stayed with you. I’ve already transferred the apartment we were renting to someone else.” I was surprised, but I didn’t refuse. I nodded. I went to get more blankets and pillows and made a place for them to sleep inside me.

I thought maybe it was the right thing to do. Isa and Valeria were suffering too. They also needed a place to lean on, just like me. Maybe the three of us could support each other, face those difficult days together. I looked at Valeria, who was still silent, her gaze lost in thought, and promised myself I would do everything I could to protect her, just as Alejandro always had. The next morning, the dim light filtered through the curtains, illuminating the old wooden floor. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands trembling and my heart heavy with sorrow.

The house was too quiet. There was no more laughter from Alejandro, nor the sound of his hurried footsteps each morning before leaving for work. I decided to open my son’s old closet, hoping to find some of his memories, a bit of that warmth I still missed. The wood creaked and an old-fashioned smell escaped, taking me back to the days when Alejandro was a child and rummaged through the closet looking for toys. I took things out one by one: shirts, a watch, a few books.

Each object felt like a knife to the chest. Then I saw it. A thick envelope hidden at the bottom of the drawer. I opened it, my heart pounding. Inside were legal documents, savings passbooks, and a handwritten letter. I instantly recognized Alejandro’s handwriting. Firm, yet full of feeling. I slumped back in my chair, my eyes fixed on those lines. Mom, if you’re reading this letter, I’m probably not here anymore. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with you longer.

I’m leaving you the house in Polanco and the savings account. 33 million pesos. Mom, I trust you’ll take care of it. I don’t want Isa to find out because I don’t trust her anymore. She’s changed, Mom. Some nights I heard her on the phone. Planning about money, about selling the house. As if everything in this family was just a way to take advantage of us. I don’t want you or Valeria to fall into her hands. Keep this secret until you feel you need to use it. I love you, Mom.

And I trust you’ll protect Valeria for me. I read it over and over, tears streaming down my face. Alejandro, my son. Even in the face of death, he kept thinking of me, of Valeria. But Isa couldn’t be trusted. My son’s words chilled me to the bone. I always thought Isa was a strong, caring woman, though sometimes a bit cold. But that upsetting thing she did yesterday at the funeral, and now this letter. They had me in a state of utter confusion.

I wanted to believe Alejandro was wrong, that Isa was just suffering like me, but in a corner of my heart, doubt began to grow. The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled me. Quickly, I stuffed the envelope into my coat pocket, my heart pounding in my chest, a faint smile playing on my lips, but my gaze icy. “Mom,” she said flatly. “I’m planning to change the lock on the front door today. The old keys aren’t secure anymore.”

I tried to keep my voice calm, even though my hand was trembling. “This key still works, honey. Don’t change it.” I don’t know why I said it. It was pure instinct. Maybe it was Alejandro’s letter that made me feel I should be cautious. Isa looked at me with a flash of annoyance in her eyes. Then she smiled. A forced smile. “Mom, you’re so careless. I just want the house to be better protected.” She turned away, but I saw her clench her fists as if she were holding something back.

I stood there, my heart heavy, feeling the invisible wall between Isa and me growing ever thicker. At midday, I mustered all my courage and called Mr. Ramírez, an old friend of Alejandro’s, whose contact information my son had included in the letter. His warm voice answered, and we agreed to meet a few days later at a discreet café where no one would notice us. I didn’t want to say too much, afraid Isa would overhear. As I hung up, I felt like I had just taken a step in a chess game whose rules I didn’t yet understand.

I went to the market trying to lose myself in the crowd, hoping to clear my head. But Mrs. López, my neighbor, took my arm and whispered, “Isa told me she wants to sell the house. Do you agree?” I froze, as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown in my face. Isa had already told the neighbors. Was she acting so fast? I shook my head, trying to sound calm. “I haven’t decided anything yet, Mrs. López. There’s no need to rush.”

She nodded, but her curious eyes unsettled me even more. I returned home with a heavy heart. What was Isa plotting behind my back? That night, Valeria quietly entered my fourth-floor room. She placed an old photograph on the table. Alejandro was smiling, carrying a tiny Valeria on his shoulders. Dad once told me he wanted to protect Grandma. He said it in a fragile voice, on the verge of breaking. But it didn’t. His words pierced my heart like a dagger.

I touched the photo, remembering Alejandro’s letter. “Sleep, daughter,” I replied, swallowing my tears. “Don’t think so much,” but deep down I knew I couldn’t leave things like this. Alejandro had entrusted me with a responsibility, and I wasn’t going to fail him. That night, I hid the envelope under my pillow, guarding it like a treasure. I went down to the kitchen for a glass of water, walking silently so as not to wake anyone. But as I passed the living room, I heard Isa’s voice filtering through the half-open door.

“Don’t worry,” she said confidently into the phone. “Everything will be ready in just a few weeks.” I froze, my hand clutching the glass of water. Ready? What was she talking about? Selling the house, or something more than just me? I didn’t know yet. I wanted to go inside. I wanted to confront her immediately, but my feet felt rooted to the spot. I went back to my fourth-floor apartment, lay down on the bed, but couldn’t sleep. Alejandro’s letter and Isa’s voice kept replaying in my head.

I knew I was facing a big secret. A secret Alejandro had tried to keep to protect me. The next morning I woke up to the aroma of coffee wafting through the kitchen. Isa had already gotten up early and set breakfast on the old wooden table: sweet bread, orange marmalade, and a pot of hot coffee. She smiled, her voice as soft as a breeze. “Mom, don’t worry about selling the house.”

Let me take care of everything. All you need now is to rest. I looked at her and was suddenly overcome with an unexpected warmth, as if last night’s doubts had been nothing but a nightmare. Isa, my daughter-in-law, seemed so attentive, as if she wanted to protect me during these days of mourning. I nodded and forced a smile, though deep down a lingering unease remained. When I got up to clear the dishes, Isa quickly stopped me, taking everything away in a hurry.

“No need,” Mom said in a sweet but firm voice. “From now on, leave those things to me. You just stay in your room and rest.” I was taken aback. I wanted to say something, but all I could do was watch her as she carried the dishes to the sink. Isa’s attitude made me feel cared for, but at the same time, like I was being pushed out of my own home. I kept telling myself that maybe she was just trying to help. She just wanted to take the weight off my shoulders.

The whispers of intrusion at the funeral, the secret phone call last night. I forced myself to believe it had all been a misunderstanding, that Isa meant no harm. But that warmth didn’t last long. At midday, while I was in the living room leafing through an old photo album of Alejandro, Isa came in with a glossy brochure in her hand. She held it up to me and, in the same sweet voice, said, “Mom, I found an excellent place. This luxury nursing home has many friends her age and doctors who see her regularly.”

I think she’ll be happier there, more comfortable. I froze, staring at the brochure with the photos of smiling elderly people in a green garden. A nursing home. I’d never thought of leaving this house, full of memories of Alejandro, of my family. I wanted to protest, to say I could still take care of myself. But before I could speak, Valeria came running in, her eyes red. Mom almost shouted. Grandma doesn’t want to go anywhere. She has to stay in this house.

I don’t want her to leave either. Valeria’s voice trembled. Stubborn, but laden with fear. I looked at her and felt a knot in my chest. Valeria, my granddaughter, was barely 15 years old, but she had already experienced too many losses. Isa pressed her lips together, and a flicker of annoyance appeared in her eyes. She took Valeria’s hand and pulled her outside, speaking softly but sharply. “Don’t meddle in adult matters. Your mother and your grandmother. We’re serious.”

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with the cold brochure on the table. I stood there, my hand trembling over Alejandro’s photo, wondering if I was overreacting or if Isa really wanted to cut me out of her life and Valeria’s. That afternoon, Isa went back to her routine. She opened the refrigerator, checked every item, and carefully jotted it down in a small notebook. “All expenses have to be planned,” she said without looking at me. “I’m going to keep the keys and the bank card safe.”

Mom, don’t worry about those things anymore. I stood there, feeling like my freedom was being chipped away at me, piece by piece, right there in my own home. I wanted to tell her I could still manage on my own, that I didn’t need her to control me, but Isa’s cold, unwavering gaze silenced me. I just nodded. I turned away, my heart heavy. As evening fell, I went into my fourth-floor apartment and turned on the TV, just to have some noise to chase away the loneliness, but I hadn’t even finished watching anything before Isa appeared and quickly turned it off.

“Why does Mom watch so much? It’s hurting her eyes,” she said in a commanding tone. “Let me put this remote away.” She took it, stuffed it in her sweater pocket, and left as if nothing had happened. I stood there, staring at the dark screen, feeling like the last thing I had left had been taken from me. A question began to grow inside me. Was Isa looking after me or controlling me? Later that night, when I thought everyone was asleep, I heard Isa’s voice from the living room.

He spoke softly, but in the silence of the house, every word was clear. “Don’t worry,” he murmured into the phone. “I’ll soon convince her to sign the papers.” My heart almost stopped. Papers. What was he talking about? Selling the house, or something more than that? I still didn’t know. I stood behind the door, holding my breath, my head spinning. Alejandro’s letter flashed into my mind. Isa can’t be trusted. I had tried to ignore it.

I wanted to believe my daughter-in-law was just hurting. But now every word she said confirmed my fear. I went slowly out into the garden. I needed fresh air to ease the feeling of confinement. The faint moonlight fell on the wooden fence. And I saw Doña López there with a cigar in her hand, greeting me. “Isa is so thoughtful,” she said admiringly. “She wants to sell the house to take care of you. You’re lucky to have a daughter-in-law like that.” I just nodded, but Doña López’s curious gaze sent shivers down my spine.

There was something about the way she spoke, as if she were sizing me up, as if she knew more than she let on. “Isa talks about you a lot.” She lowered her voice even further. “She says she needs to rest, that a quieter place would do her good. I think she’s right. What do you think?” I gave a half-smile, avoiding the question. “I haven’t thought about it yet, Doña López. Everything in its own time.” But inside, I felt cornered. I went back to the house, touching the pocket of my coat, where Alejandro’s envelope was still tucked away.

I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was alright. The next day I woke up early with a heart as heavy as stone. I grabbed some freshly made corn tortillas, wrapped them carefully in a napkin, and walked to Doña López’s house. I wanted to see her, not so much to talk, but to gauge how much she knew about what Isa had said. Her door was open, and Doña López, her gray hair disheveled, smiled at me when she saw me.

Marisol came to visit me. “What’s so delicious?” she asked, cheerful as always. I put the small package of tortillas on the table and sat down in the old wooden chair in her kitchen. Mrs. López pulled out a chair and sat across from me, her eyes curious. “I heard Isa say you’ve already agreed to sell the house,” she commented in a low but firm voice. “Are you really going to do that?” I froze, as if I’d been slapped. “I never said that.”

I answered, trying to stay calm, even though my heart was pounding. What had Isa said to Mrs. López? And why was she going around telling everyone something I’d never agreed to? Mrs. López smiled, but it wasn’t the friendly smile she’d had before. Maybe Isa misunderstood. She tilted her head, giving me a questioning look. “But you should think about it carefully, Marisol. Why would you want such a big house all by yourself? Come on, honey, it costs a lot to maintain. Isa’s right.”

Selling it to secure Valeria’s future would be the most sensible thing to do. I clenched my fists under the table, suppressing my anger. “Mrs. López, this house is my memory of Alejandro,” I said, my voice trembling. “I haven’t thought about selling it. And if I ever do, it will be my decision.” She shrugged and gave a soft laugh. “It’s fine, I’m just mentioning it. Isa cares a lot about you. You know that. She only wants what’s best for everyone.” But I saw a strange glint in her eyes, as if she were waiting for me to say something more.

As if she wanted me to betray her. I got up, using the excuse that I had to prepare dinner, and left her house with a growing sense of distrust. This neighbor, whom I had trusted for so many years and with whom I had shared difficult times, now made me doubt her. When I got home, I had barely crossed the threshold when I saw Isa already waiting for me in the living room. In front of her was a sheet of paper covered in letters and numbers. She handed it to me, speaking in a soft but urgent tone.

Mom, I just spoke with the agency. They’ve already approved the house. All that’s left is for me to sign here. I was in shock, my hand trembling as I took the paper. The numbers and clauses seemed to move before my eyes. How far Isa had gone. Without asking my opinion, without the slightest respect. “Isa,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I haven’t agreed to sell the house. Why the rush?” Isa looked at me with a slight expression of annoyance, though she quickly forced a smile.

Mom, I just want this resolved quickly. We need the money. Valeria needs it for college. Firm. And I’ll take care of everything. Her words sounded sweet, but behind them, I felt a pressure that left me with no choice. That afternoon, while I was trying to organize my thoughts in my room, Valeria quietly entered, phone in hand. Her face was pale, and her eyes were full of worry. “Grandma,” she said softly but firmly. “Mom texted someone saying, ‘Sell quickly before she changes her mind.’”

I looked. She showed me the screen where Isa’s text shone brightly. “Is she really going to sell the house?” I read the message, and every word pierced me like a knife. I had never given my consent. I never even mentioned selling the house. And yet, Isa was acting as if it was all a done deal. “Valeria,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. “I never agreed to sell the house. I don’t know why your mom is saying that.” Valeria looked at me, her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t understand my mother anymore,” she whispered. “She keeps saying she doesn’t need this house. That she should rest somewhere else. But I want her here with me.” Her words left me with a lump in my throat. I hugged Valeria, trying to hold back my tears. My granddaughter, the little girl who had lost her father, was now caught between her mother and me. I wanted to tell her about Alejandro’s letter, but I knew it wasn’t the right time yet. I couldn’t sleep that night.

The cool breeze coming through the window wasn’t enough to calm my mind. I drew back the curtain, hoping for some fresh air, and what I saw outside chilled me to the bone. Isa and Doña López were sitting on the wooden bench, talking in hushed tones in the dim light. I hid behind the curtain, my heart pounding, trying to memorize every word I signed the papers. “Is this enough?” Isa asked, her voice low but sharp.

I’ll give her her share as promised, but you have to keep convincing her. Tell her she shouldn’t be alone, that this house is too big. Doña López chuckled. Her voice was heavy with calculation. “Don’t worry, I know how to talk. I tried today, but Marisol is very stubborn. She always brings up Alejandro. The memories. You have to hurry or she’ll start to suspect something.” Isa nodded, nervously clasping her hands together. “I know. I just need a few more days and I’ll get her to sign. If not, I’ll find another way.”

I stood there in the darkness, feeling like my world was crumbling around me. The neighbor I trusted most, the one who brought me food when Alejandro was still alive, was in cahoots with Isa. They were plotting everything inside my own house, right before my eyes. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I pressed my lips together, refusing to let out a sob. I couldn’t show weakness. I couldn’t let them win. I went back inside in silence. I opened the drawer and took out the envelope with Alejandro’s papers.

I checked it page by page, line by line, as if to make sure everything was still in place. Then I put the envelope in an old cloth bag and locked it in the metal box under the bed. This was Alejandro’s legacy, his last message to me, and I would protect it at any cost. Before going to sleep, I picked up my phone and sent a short message to Licenciado Ramírez: “We need to see each other immediately. I can’t wait any longer. I’ll confirm the time tomorrow.”

I sent it. With all my heart. Still wild, but with a newfound determination. Isa and Doña López might think they had everything under control. But I wasn’t easily manipulated. For Alejandro. For Valeria. I would fight to the end. The next afternoon, as the golden light filtered through the window, I sat in my room, phone in hand. Isa had taken Valeria shopping, leaving the house in an eerie silence. I seized the opportunity, took a deep breath, and dialed Attorney Ramírez’s number.

Her deep, calm voice came through the line, like a ray of hope amidst the storm of doubt that engulfed me. “Is Marisol alright?” she asked. I briefly told her what had happened: Alejandro’s letter, Isa’s whispered words, and Doña López’s machinations. “We need to meet,” I said, my voice trembling. “Tomorrow at her office.” “Maybe.” She agreed without hesitation, and I hung up, my heart pounding. I knew I was entering a battle, but I couldn’t back down.

At dusk, I heard the click of the front door. Only Valeria came in, her face saddened. Isa, she told me, had stopped by the bookstore and asked Valeria to come back early. I was about to ask her how she was when I heard her voice whispering from downstairs, heavy with worry. I walked slowly to the door. I stood behind the wall and clearly heard every word she said on the phone to a friend. “Mom says Grandma’s hiding money and papers.”

Valeria murmured, her voice trembling. “Mom is convinced her dad left her something. I don’t know who to believe anymore. Mom insists Grandma isn’t well. But her… She’s not like Mom says.” Valeria’s words were like a knife piercing my chest. My granddaughter, whom I love so much, was caught between truth and lies. I wanted to run out, hug her, and tell her everything: Alejandro’s letter, what I’d overheard Isa saying.

But I held back because I knew that if I said it now, Valeria would be even more confused. I just went back to my room in silence, my hand touching the bag where I kept Alejandro’s envelope, as if it were the only thing keeping me going. I couldn’t sleep that night. The cool breeze coming through the window wasn’t enough to calm my restless mind. I went out into the hallway toward the bathroom and then I heard Isa’s voice from the kitchen. She was on the phone, her voice low but icy, as if she were meticulously planning something.

“I’ll get the signature soon,” she said. “The whole estate will be mine. She won’t be able to resist.” I froze, my hand gripping the doorknob. My blood boiled over. Isa was talking about the house in Polanco, about the money Alejandro had left me—33 million pesos. I wanted to burst in. To scream at her that I already knew everything, that she couldn’t fool me. But I held back because I understood I had to stay calm. If she found out now, Isa would find another way, and I wasn’t ready to face her yet.

The next morning, I was sitting in my fourth-floor room with a cup of cold coffee in my hands. When Valeria came in, she was carrying her notebook, but her eyes reflected a heavy burden, as if she were carrying an unbearable weight. “Grandma,” she said in a trembling voice, “is it true that Dad left money for you and not for Mom?” I jumped. I almost dropped my cup. How much did Valeria know? She had overheard Isa’s phone call the night before.

I didn’t have time to answer because Isa appeared at that moment, her gaze stern. Valeria said in a sweet but authoritative voice, “You shouldn’t bother your grandmother. She’s not lucid enough to remember such things.” Her words felt like a slap in the face. Isa was trying to portray me as a frail and confused old woman so that Valeria would doubt me. My granddaughter looked at her mother, then at me, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

She said nothing. She just turned around and slammed the door to her fourth-floor apartment. That sharp thud resonated like a hammer blow in my heart. Valeria, my granddaughter, was being manipulated by her own mother, and I didn’t know how to bring her back to me. Isa turned to me with a slight sneer, a smile as cold as ice. “See, Mom?” she said in an even tone, but full of mockery. “Even Valeria thinks you shouldn’t keep anything.”

You’d better agree to sell the house. You’re old now. Why cling to it? You can’t take it with you when you die. My blood was boiling, but I bit my lip to stay calm. I couldn’t let Isa notice my hesitation. I opened the drawer, took out this month’s electricity and water bills, and held them up to her. “If you really want to take care of the family,” I said with a firmness that surprised me.

Start with small things like this. From this month on, I won’t pay anymore. Isa frowned as she received the paper. Her eyes showed a flash of annoyance. “You always make things difficult for me,” she said quietly, as if holding back anger. “But it’s okay. I’ll take care of it. You rest.” She turned away, but I noticed how she clutched the receipt in her hand, as if she wanted to tear it to pieces. The next morning I woke up early, my heart in knots.

I grabbed an old shawl. I put on a wide-brimmed hat and, using the excuse of going to the market, left the house. Each step toward the street felt heavy, as if I were entering a battle whose outcome I didn’t know. But I couldn’t put anything off any longer. Alejandro’s letter, Isa’s poisoned words, and Doña López’s betrayal compelled me to act. I took the bus to Licenciado Ramírez’s office, my heart pounding. I was torn between fear and determination.

Ramírez’s office was in a small, simple but tidy building. She greeted me with a warm smile, though her serious eyes seemed to sense I had some unpleasant business to deal with. She offered me a seat and unfolded a copy of Alejandro’s will in front of me. Marisol said in a grave voice, “Alejandro made it very clear that the house in Polanco and 33 million pesos are yours. He doesn’t mention Isa at all. He carefully planned to protect you and Valeria.”

I looked at the writing on the paper. My son’s handwriting. And I felt tears welling up. Alejandro, even facing death, thought of me. He worried about my future and his daughter’s. But Ramírez continued, his voice lowering. “However, there’s a problem. Isa could petition for guardianship if they manage to have you declared legally incapacitated. If she succeeds, she would control the entire estate.” I clenched my fists, feeling my blood run cold. “What if Isa forges documents?” I asked, my voice trembling.

She already told Valeria I’m not in my right mind. She’s up to something. I know it. Ramírez nodded, looking worried. We need witnesses and evidence to confront her, he explained. If Isa tries to fake something, we have to prove it. I’ll talk to some people to see if she’s up to no good. But she has to be careful, Marisol. Don’t let her know you suspect her. I left the office, my mind reeling. Her words were a warning, but also a spark of hope.

I wasn’t alone in this struggle. However, as I crossed the street, I didn’t notice the man sitting in the café across the way, holding a cell phone and secretly taking pictures of me. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t see those strange eyes following my every move. At noon, when I got home and opened the door, I saw Isa already sitting in the living room, her expression cold. “Mom went to the market. And why isn’t there any food?” she asked, her tone even, but full of reproach.

“Who did you run into?” Trying to stay calm, even though my heart was pounding, I answered. “I went to visit an old friend.” I said as softly as possible, but Isa let out an icy laugh that sent shivers down my spine. “What a friend! She’s wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, sitting in a lawyer’s office. Since when does Mom know lawyers?” Her words were like a knife, sharp and precise. How did she know I’d gone to a law office?

Had she been following me? I wanted to confront her, ask her point-blank what game she was playing, but Valeria’s suspicious look from the stairs stopped me. The girl was there, clinging to the railing, watching me as if searching for an answer. I couldn’t let her see me hesitate. “He’s just a friend of Alejandro’s,” I said, trying to sound calm. I wanted to talk about him. Isa frowned, but didn’t say anything else. She just turned away with a listless smile. Later that night, when I was trying to get some sleep, Isa knocked on my fourth-floor door.

She came in with a stack of papers in her hand, her voice so sweet it was unsettling. Mom said, “You just have to sign here, and I’ll take care of everything for you. You won’t have to worry about a thing.” I took the papers, my heart pounding. The logo of a neurology clinic was prominently displayed on the cover, and the phrase “legal guardianship” in large letters felt like a threat. Just as Ramírez had warned me. Isa was trying to prove I wasn’t capable of handling my own affairs.

I looked up, pretending not to understand, and met her gaze. “I’ll sign it,” I said slowly. “But there isn’t one. Can you give me some time to think about it?” Isa gathered the papers, and although she kept smiling, she couldn’t hide her annoyance. “Think about it,” she said coldly. “But opportunities don’t last long.” She turned away, leaving me with the feeling of having escaped a trap, though knowing the next one was already set. I couldn’t sleep that night.

I stood by the window, watching darkness envelop the street. The wind rustled the tree branches, but it couldn’t shake the fear that gripped my chest. Just as I was about to get up, I heard whispers in the doorway. I pulled back the curtain, slipping into the shadows, and saw Isa talking to Mrs. López. “She already saw the lawyer,” Isa said quietly, her voice tense. “We have to move before it’s too late.” Mrs. López nodded, her hands clasped together.

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “I’ll keep talking to her. I’ll wear her down. Just have the papers ready.” I froze. My heart stopped. Isa wasn’t just manipulating me. She’d also dragged Mrs. López into her plan. I returned to my fourth-floor apartment, my hands trembling, to the chest where I kept Alejandro’s will. I knew my time was running out early in the morning. I was in the kitchen, my hands shaking, making coffee, trying to ward off the chill that had seeped into my very soul.

The strong aroma of coffee did little to calm the unease within me. Each passing day felt like walking a tightrope, and that one wrong step would bring everything crashing down. The hurried sound of Valeria’s footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. The girl entered, frowning, her eyes red as if she’d been crying. “Grandma,” she said harshly, almost shouting, “Why did Dad leave all the money and the house in your name?”

Mom says you’ve been cheating on her this whole time. Valeria’s words pierced me like a knife. Sharp and unexpected. I froze. I almost dropped my coffee cup. I wanted to explain. To tell her I hadn’t hidden anything, that everything Alejandro left behind was to protect her. But before I could open my mouth, Isa stormed out of the room like a whirlwind. She put her arm around Valeria’s shoulders, a forced smile on her lips.

“Daughter,” she said in a sweet but icy voice, “your grandmother is just looking after him. We have to think about your future. Both your grandmother and I want what’s best for you.” Valeria pulled her hand away from her mother, made a face of disgust, and raised her voice stubbornly. “Yesterday I saw Mom writing to someone,” she said, almost shouting. “She was telling her that Grandma had all of Dad’s properties. She also said that if she didn’t reveal anything, it would prove that Grandma wasn’t in her right mind.”

Mom thinks I don’t understand anything. I was breathless. My heart skipped a beat. Valeria already knew. In her innocence and amidst her pain, she had stumbled upon the truth I was trying to hide to protect her. Isa was stunned. Her face hardened, and a flash of panic escaped her eyes. “What nonsense are you talking about?” she shouted, her voice as sharp as a knife. “I already told you not to meddle in adult matters.”

Go back to your fourth floor and stop bothering your grandmother. Valeria looked at her mother and then at me, her eyes filled with anger and confusion. I don’t trust anyone anymore. She shouted and ran upstairs. Her footsteps echoed loudly, shattering the silence of the house. I stood there, still holding the cup, my heart aching. Valeria, my beloved granddaughter, was trapped between her mother and me, and I didn’t know how to bring her to me without hurting her more.

Isa turned to me, her gaze icy. “See?” she said, her voice flat but dripping with sarcasm. “The girl is confused. Don’t make things worse.” She turned away, but I saw her clench her fists, fighting to contain her anger. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her that she was the one hurting Valeria. But I bit my lip and stayed silent. I knew it wasn’t the time for confrontation. That afternoon I stayed in my room, trying to sort out my chaotic thoughts.

I heard soft knocks on the door and Valeria came in. She slammed a notebook down on the table, her eyes swollen, her voice trembling. “Grandma,” she said, almost pleading. “You have to tell me the truth. What did Dad leave you? I want to hear it from you. I’m part of this family too. Why are you and Mom hiding everything from me? Or do you think I’m too young to understand?” Looking at her, I saw Alejandro reflected back at him when he was young. Stubborn, but full of love.

I knew she was distraught, desperately seeking comfort amidst the storm of truths and lies. I went to the drawer, took out an old photograph of Alejandro holding her as a baby, smiling in the sunlight. I placed the photo in her hands and spoke, my voice breaking. “Your father loved you more than anything in the world,” I said. “He just wanted everything to be safe. I can’t tell you everything now, but I promise you’ll understand someday.”

I just want to protect you. Just like your dad did. Valeria looked at the photo, her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know who to trust anymore,” she murmured, then turned away, slamming the door behind her. I heard her sobs from her room and felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. I wanted to run after her, hug her, and tell her the whole truth, but I knew it wasn’t the right time yet. If I told her about Alejandro’s letter, about Isa’s plan, Valeria might not be able to bear it.

That night, Isa came into my fourth-floor room with a tray of food. The smell of freshly made corn tamales filled the air, but her voice was as cold as ice. “Mom,” she said, placing the tray on the table. “Valeria is in the throes of adolescence. She’s very impressionable. Don’t confuse her anymore, and don’t think you can manipulate her into taking your side.” Her words were like a slap, sharp and painful. I nodded silently, but when Isa turned around, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of her pocket.

The logo of an unfamiliar hospital caught my eye. A medical file. My heart pounded. Was this what Isa planned to use to prove I was out of my mind? I wanted to snatch the paper from her hands, demand an explanation immediately, but I held back. I needed time. I needed proof. Just as Ramírez had told me, a letter from the court arrived in my mailbox the next day. I took it with trembling hands, my heart pounding in my chest.

The envelope was thick, sealed with the court’s seal, and when I opened it, I read the chilling words. Isa had officially filed for legal guardianship over me. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling as if the floor were crumbling beneath my feet. Isa, my daughter-in-law, whom I had once considered a daughter, now wanted to steal my freedom, to turn me into an old woman incapable of making her own decisions. Tears stung my eyes, but I pressed my lips together.

I couldn’t afford to show weakness. I slipped the letter into my pocket and hurried to Mr. Ramirez’s office. His office was exactly the same as before—simple, yet imposing. He greeted me from behind his desk, frowning as he read the letter. Marisol said in a grave voice, “You need to be prepared. Isa probably attached a fake medical report stating that you suffer from severe memory loss.” His words were like a knife, confirming my worst fear.

Ramírez reviewed the attached medical file page by page, his expression growing increasingly serious, from the doctor’s signature and stamp to the hospital. “It’s all fake,” he stated. “That hospital doesn’t exist. And neither does the doctor who signed here. Isa is playing a very dangerous game.” I sat there, gripping the arms of the chair tightly, trying to hold back my tears. “How could she do this to me?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I treated her like a daughter. Ramírez. I wanted to believe she was only grieving Alejandro’s death, but now she wants to take everything from me, even Valeria.”

Ramírez placed a hand on my shoulder, his gaze filled with compassion. “We’ll confront him,” he assured me. “But you must remain calm and not let Isa realize she’s discovered his plan. We’ll need time to gather more evidence.” Returning home, I felt like a soldier returning from the battlefield, weary but unstoppable. As soon as I entered the living room, I saw Isa sitting at the dining room table, papers scattered in front of her.

She looked up and smiled as if nothing had happened. “Mom. The court will be in touch soon,” she said in a sweet but icy voice. “Don’t worry, I just want to make things easier.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I walked over and looked her straight in the eyes. “Who signed these documents? Isa?” I asked with a firmness that surprised even myself. “It says here that I have memory loss, that I’m no longer in my right mind. Who forged this?” Isa raised her head, a flash of panic in her eyes, though she quickly regained her composure.

“What are you talking about?” She mocked with a bitter smile. “Sometimes you have to do what’s necessary. You shouldn’t worry. You’re old now. Let me handle it.” “Take care of it?” I growled, feeling my blood boil. Boil. “Taking care of it means forging documents to take away my rights. It means telling everyone I can’t think straight anymore. Isa, I treated you like a daughter. And this is what you do to me.” Isa stood up abruptly, her eyes cold as knives. “Don’t play innocent!” she shouted.

You hid Alejandro’s belongings. You kept everything for yourself. Do you think I don’t know? Everything I do is for Valeria, for this family. The living room door suddenly opened, and Valeria stood there, her eyes wide and her face pale. Mom screamed, her voice trembling. How could you do that? How dare you say my grandmother isn’t right in the head? She’s not like you say. Isa turned to her daughter and yelled, “Shut up, Valeria!”

You don’t understand anything. Everything I do is for you, for your future. But Valeria shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. She ran out into the street, leaving Isa and me in a tense atmosphere, ready to explode. That night I stayed by the window, looking out at the courtyard. Valeria was sitting on the bench, talking on the phone, her voice trembling. “I don’t know who to trust anymore,” she told her friend. “My grandmother and my mother had a fight.”

Horrible. Everything’s upside down. I just wish everything could go back to the way it was. When my dad was alive. Listening to her, I felt my heart break. Valeria, my beloved granddaughter, was trapped between truth and lies. And I didn’t know how to protect her without hurting her more. An hour later, when Valeria had already gone inside, I saw Isa sneak out toward the gate. Mrs. López was there, under the dim light of the streetlamp. Isa slipped a thick envelope into her hand.

“When the court asks,” Isa murmured. “Just say Marisol forgets things and gets confused. That’s all.” Mrs. López nodded in a low, calculating voice. “Relax. I know exactly what to say, but make sure I get my cut.” I stood behind the curtain, my hands trembling, feeling like the whole world was collapsing. Isa hadn’t just forged documents; she’d bribed Mrs. López to give false testimony. She’d gone too far, not only manipulating me but dragging in people I’d trusted.

I went back to the room, sat down next to the metal chest, and placed my hand on the envelope with Alejandro’s papers. My son’s letter. His last message was the only thing keeping me going. I knew the legal battle was about to begin, and I had to be ready. For Alejandro. For Valeria. I wasn’t going to let Isa win. I closed my eyes and whispered into the darkness. Son. Mommy is going to keep her promise.

I’m going to protect everything you left behind. The morning of the trial, I woke up feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I stood in front of the mirror. I saw my face, the wrinkles, my tired eyes. But inside them, a burning flame still burned. Today I was going to confront Isa, her lies, and I knew this was my last chance to defend Alejandro’s inheritance, to protect Valeria. I put on a simple black dress, wrapped myself in a shawl, and left the house with my lawyer, Ramírez, my heart filled with nerves, but also with determination.

The courtroom was cold. The atmosphere was heavy, as if a storm were about to break. I sat next to Ramírez, my hands clasped tightly, my gaze fixed on Isa. She was already there, sitting across from me, her face cold but confident. Valeria was beside her, her eyes red. Visibly tense. I wanted to reach out, to tell her that everything was going to be alright, but Valeria’s distrustful look tore at my heart. She was caught between her mother and me, and I didn’t know if she still believed in me.

The trial began. Isa stood up. Her voice calm but dramatic, she presented a thick medical file and placed it before the judge. “Your Honor,” she said firmly. “My mother-in-law, Mrs. Marisol, no longer has the mental capacity to manage her own affairs. I request that the Court grant me guardianship so that I can protect the family’s assets and care for her.” She turned to me with a look of feigned compassion. “She forgets things. She gets confused all the time.”

And I only want what’s best for her and my daughter Valeria. The judge nodded, flipping through the pages with a serious expression. I felt my heart stop. Everything was tilting in Isa’s favor. Then Mrs. López, the neighbor I once trusted, raised her hand to speak. She stepped onto the bench, her voice trembling, but full of drama. “Your Honor,” she said, “I’ve lived next door to Mrs. Marisol for many years. She often forgets even the simplest things, like locking the door or paying a bill.”

Once she even called me by another name, believing I was someone else. I’m very worried about her. I stood there, my blood boiling. Every word Mrs. López said was a lie. Every sentence was like a knife stabbing me in the chest. I wanted to get up, to scream that she was lying, that Isa had paid her to testify falsely. But Ramírez put her hand on my shoulder, giving me a look that said, “Calm down.” I pressed my lips together tightly, fighting back tears as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

As soon as Isa and Ms. López finished, Ramírez stood up. His voice was strong and confident. “Your Honor,” he said, “we have proof that the medical documents Ms. Isa is presenting are false.” The courtroom erupted in murmurs. Ramírez displayed a stack of papers, speaking without hesitation. “Here is the official confirmation from the hospital, along with the testimony of a real doctor who assures us that Ms. Marisol has no neurological problems. Furthermore, the hospital mentioned in Ms. Isa’s file does not exist.”

The doctor’s signature, the stamps—it’s all fake. The judge frowned. He took the documents Ramírez handed him and flipped through each page suspiciously. He looked at Isa and spoke to her in a stern voice. “How do you explain this discrepancy?” Isa stood there, her face pale and her eyes wide with panic. “There might be a small mistake,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I… I only repeated what the doctor told me. I don’t know anything about forgeries.” But her voice sounded weak, lacking the confidence she had shown at the beginning.

The discussion grew tense as Ramírez’s voice resonated firmly, dismantling each of Isa’s arguments. I sat there, my heart pounding, a mixture of hope and fear. The situation was shifting, but I knew Isa wouldn’t give up so easily. Then, suddenly, Valeria stood up, a folded letter clutched in her hand. Her voice trembled, but her resolve was clear. “Your Honor,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “This is a letter from my father, Alejandro.”

I found it by accident under my grandmother’s pillow while cleaning her fourth floor. Dad clearly wrote: Everything my mother keeps is to protect my daughter. Isa cannot touch anything. The room erupted in murmurs, like waves crashing on the shore. Isa tried to snatch the letter, but the judge was faster and took it. He opened it and read it aloud. “Mom.” The judge’s voice was clear and solemn. “I leave you the house in Polanco and my savings so you can protect Valeria.”

I don’t trust Isa. She’s changed, and I don’t want her touching what I left behind. Keep this a secret until it’s absolutely necessary. I stared at Valeria in disbelief, unable to believe what I was seeing. My granddaughter, whom I love so much, had found Alejandro’s letter. I wanted to run and hug her, to tell her how proud I was of her. Valeria looked at me, her voice trembling. “Grandma, I’m sorry. I trusted my mom for too long.” Isa was beside herself. She jumped up, her face contorted with anger and fear.

“Everything belongs to me!” she cried, her voice breaking. “I sacrificed my life for this family. Why didn’t he trust me? Why does she get to keep everything?” The judge slammed his gavel down in an icy tone. “Ms. Isa, calm down. The court will open an investigation into your document forgery. The hearing is adjourned.” I left the courtroom with Valeria, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a little relief. She took my hand, her small fingers still trembling.

Grandma whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.” I hugged her, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you either,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. “I’m going to protect you like your father wanted.” As we left the courthouse, the sun shone on my face, warm but unable to erase the wound in my heart. The battle wasn’t over, but for the first time, I didn’t feel alone. Valeria had chosen to be on my side, and Alejandro’s letter, like a lamp in the darkness, had restored my faith.

I knew the road ahead would be long. But for Alejandro, for Valeria, I would keep fighting. A few days after the trial, the atmosphere in the house felt as if it had been cleansed. Isa gathered her things and left in silence. One foggy morning, she said nothing. She just dragged her suitcase to the door, her head down, not daring to look at me or Valeria. I stood in the doorway watching her figure slowly disappear, my heart torn between relief and a touch of sadness.

After all, Isa had been my daughter-in-law. She had been part of this family. But what she did—the lies, the scheming—destroyed everything. Valeria was beside me, her little hands gripping the railing tightly. “I don’t want to go with Mom,” she said softly but firmly. “I want to stay with you, Grandma.” I hugged her, tears welling up for the first time in many days. I felt like I had recovered a part of my family. Mrs. López, my neighbor and former friend, was now avoiding me.

After the trial, the whole neighborhood whispered about the money Isa had given me to testify falsely. Every time I went out into the yard, Mrs. López slammed the gate, not daring to greet me as she used to. Once, our eyes met over the fence. Her eyes were full of regret, but I simply looked away. I wasn’t angry, but the trust was broken, and I knew I would never see her the same way again.

I went with attorney Ramírez to the bank to finalize the paperwork confirming ownership of the house in Polanco and the 33 million pesos. Sitting in that small office, I signed page after page, my hand trembling. Each signature was an affirmation that Alejandro’s legacy, my son’s last message, was protected. When I finished, Ramírez looked at me and smiled. “Alejandro trusted the right person,” he said softly. “He left a perfect system to protect you and your daughter.”

Her words brought a lump to my throat. I remembered Alejandro’s letter, his words filled with love, and I knew I had done the right thing. I had kept my promise to my son. Deciding to leave the old house wasn’t easy, but I knew I needed a fresh start. I put that house, so full of memories with Alejandro, up for sale and moved to the one in Polanco. The new one was spacious and bright, with large windows overlooking a quiet street. At first, I was afraid it would feel cold, like the other one, after Alejandro left, but Valeria changed everything.

She brought laughter, stories from school, and also those stubborn moments that both annoyed and touched me. Valeria turned the house into a home, and I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. I rehired Carmen, the housekeeper who had been with us since Alejandro was a child. Isa had fired her after my son’s death, but I never forgot her loyalty. Carmen came in with her usual smile and immediately started cleaning and cooking.

Doña Marisol told me in a warm voice, “This house needs you, and I need a place to come back to.” Carmen not only took care of the house, she also became my companion. Listening to my confidences during those long nights with her, I regained a sense of security I had lost long ago. I started participating in a group for older women at the local church. They met every week, cooked together, sewed, and shared life stories. For the first time in many years, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

Those women, with their stories of loss, hope, and resilience, made me realize I wasn’t the only one who had struggled with pain. One afternoon, while we were making tamales, an elderly woman took my hand and said, “Marisol, you are stronger than you think. Alejandro must be very proud of you.” I smiled, tears streaming down my face. For the first time, I felt I wasn’t just living to survive, but to continue my own story. With the 33 million pesos.

I started funding scholarships for some poor students in the neighborhood. I remembered that Alejandro used to say he wanted to help those most in need. And I wanted to fulfill that dream in my son’s name. Every time I saw the children receive the scholarships, their eyes shining, I felt as if I were seeing Alejandro’s smile. I no longer lived only for myself, but to continue what my son had started. Valeria grew closer to me. She would often sit with me in the evenings, telling me about her problems at school, her new friends, and her dreams.

Once she asked me for help with her history homework, and we sat for hours laughing while I told her about the old days. Valeria was no longer the confused little girl she used to be. She had regained her confidence, and I knew it was thanks to the love Alejandro had left her. I secretly opened a trust for Valeria that only she and Ramírez knew about. It was my way of ensuring that my granddaughter’s future wouldn’t be in anyone else’s hands, not even after I was gone.

One night, while we were having dinner, Valeria suddenly said, “Grandma, someday I want to study law. I want to defend people like you.” I looked at her and my heart melted. “I know you’ll do it better than anyone,” I replied, placing my hand on her shoulder and feeling the strength in it, the same strength Alejandro had given her. Back in my room, I stopped in front of Alejandro’s picture on the shelf. His eyes were still as kind as ever. “Son,” I whispered.

I kept my promise to protect Valeria, and I will continue to do so until the end of my life. Tears flowed, but this time they were tears of peace. As night fell, I sat by the window of my new house, watching the endless lights of Mexico City. The battle was over, but my life went on. These were no longer days of control, but the life of a free, peaceful grandmother, stronger than ever. I knew Alejandro was smiling somewhere, and I, at last, had found myself again.