“My son died, but he was not a fool. We already knew what you were. An opportunist. A nobody trying to trap him with another man’s child.”
Fernanda stepped closer. Before I could move, she grabbed my left hand. Her nails pressed into my skin.
“And this doesn’t belong to you either.”
She yanked my wedding ring so hard that it scraped my finger. The ring dropped into her palm like a prize.
“Look at you,” Fernanda said, showing it to everyone. “A widow, poor, and pregnant with a bastard child.”
My legs trembled. I felt my son move inside me, as if even he could hear their cruelty.
Doña Teresa placed the fake papers on top of Julián’s coffin and leaned toward me.
“You are leaving the house today. The accounts are frozen. The cars, the properties, the company… everything returns to the real family.”
I stared at the coffin, wishing I could wake up from the nightmare. The morning before Julián left, he had said something strange to me.
“Whatever happens, trust Arturo. I’ve already handled everything.”
Arturo was his lawyer.
But Arturo was not there.
Doña Teresa raised her hand and signaled to two security men.
“Take her out before she keeps performing.”
Then the huge church doors suddenly burst open.
The sound was so loud that everyone froze.
A man in a gray suit walked down the center aisle. It was Arturo Salcedo, Julián’s lawyer. Two people followed him, each carrying a black briefcase and a portable screen.
His voice was firm and cold.
“By the strict instructions of Mr. Julián Mendoza, no burial will take place until this video is shown.”
Doña Teresa smiled proudly, as if she thought it was a tribute to her.
