Chapter 37 - The Portrait
Later that week, while organizing some old historical documents in the mansion's private archives, I stumbled upon a heavy, dust-covered oil painting tucked behind a row of leather-bound ledgers.
It was a portrait of my grandfather, Don Aurelio Rivas, painted back when the estate was first built. In the background of the painting, the original design of the San Ángel house stood tall and proud—not as a monument to snobbery and exclusion, but as a working farm and a community hub that my grandfather had originally intended it to be before my mother corrupted its purpose.
I carefully wiped the dust from the canvas, admiring the strong, steady brushstrokes.
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With the help of our estate manager, I had the portrait restored and hung in the grand entrance hall, right beside the bronze plaque of the foundation.
Now, every visitor who walked through the open iron gates was greeted not by the cold, arrogant gaze of Leticia Rivas, but by the warm, welcoming eyes of the man who had laid the original foundation of our family’s true legacy.
