Chapter 12 - The Shadow of the Past
While Leticia rotted in her two-room exile, the newly christened San Ángel Children’s Arts and Education Foundation was thriving.
I stood on the second-floor balcony of the old mansion, looking down at the courtyard where dozens of children from working-class families were laughing, painting, and running across the lawn. The heavy iron gates had been permanently removed, replaced by low brick pillars and a welcoming wrought-iron arch bearing our new family crest.
Andrés walked up behind me, handing me a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.
“The federal prosecutor’s office just finalized the asset tracing report on Diego’s accounts,” Andrés said quietly, leaning against the stone balustrade. “It turns out he wasn't just skimming municipal construction funds. He was also siphoning money from the historical preservation trust fund that your grandfather originally established back in the nineteen-eighties.”
I turned my head, surprised. “My grandfather’s trust? The one my mother claimed was completely emptied during the economic crash of '94?”
“The exact one,” Andrés nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “Diego and your mother quietly altered the beneficiary clauses twelve years ago, redirecting the monthly dividends into a offshore shell company in the Cayman Islands. That’s how they managed to maintain their lavish lifestyle while pretending to be aristocrats.”
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“So the house wasn't just saved by my own investments,” I murmured, looking down at my hands. “It was bought back with the very money they stole from my grandfather’s legacy.”
“Karma has an exquisite sense of accounting,” Andrés replied, wrapping his arm around my waist. “And the best part is, the courts have officially recognized you as the sole surviving heir of the original trust. Every cent Diego and Leticia stole is being legally repatriated back into this foundation.”
