Chapter 3 - THE EVICTION NOTICEBruno let out a sharp, hysterical bark of laughter. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in a desperate bid to reclaim some semblance of authority.
“Legal power of attorney? Are you out of your minds?” Bruno scoffed, shaking his head. “This is our house—well, Mom’s house. You can’t just kick me out. I have rights! I’m a resident here! If you try to lock me out, I’ll call the police, I’ll sue for wrongful eviction, I’ll—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Mauricio interrupted, pulling a third document from the manila folder. It was thick, legal-bound, and stamped with an official notary seal.
“Read it, son. Section 4, Paragraph B.”
Bruno glared at his father, refusing to move.
“Read it!” Mauricio barked, slamming his palm on the table. The blue dinnerware rattled, and the red chilaquiles splashed slightly against the rim of the bowl.
Jumping slightly at the sudden violence of the sound, Bruno grabbed the paper. His eyes scanned the dense legal jargon, his breath hitching as his brain struggled to parse the terminology.
Notice of Revocation of Residency and Demand for Immediate Vacating of Premises.
“This... this is a fake,” Bruno whispered, his face turning an ash-gray color. “You can’t evict me with a piece of paper you printed off the internet. It takes months! There are laws! Courts! Eviction notices take thirty, sixty, ninety days!”
“Not when the property is being transferred,” Mauricio replied calmly, straightening his coat. “Look at the bottom page.”
Bruno flipped to the final sheet. His eyes widened in absolute horror.
It was a deed transfer. The house in the Álamos neighborhood—the home Elena had worked forty-hour weeks at the school library to maintain, the roof over his head—was no longer solely in Elena’s name. As of 3:00 a.m. that morning, through a fast-track legal agreement executed by Mauricio’s corporate attorney friend, 90% of the property rights had been legally signed over to Mauricio Salgado, with the remaining 10% held in a revocable trust managed by Elena.
“You... you stole the house?” Bruno shrieked, half-rising from his chair, his face contorting into a mask of pure rage. He pointed a shaking finger at his mother. “You gave our house to him? To the man who walked out on us? Have you lost your damn mind? He’s going to throw you out on the street!”
“No, Bruno,” Elena said, her voice dropping the temperature in the room by ten degrees. She finally picked up her fork, taking a calm, deliberate bite of the chilaquiles she had prepared. “He isn't throwing me out. He’s protecting me from the monster I raised.”
She chewed slowly, swallowed, and set her fork down.
“You have until 12:00 noon today to pack your clothes, your gaming console, and whatever else fits into your car,” Elena said, her eyes dead and cold. “After that time, the locks are being changed. The security cameras are being activated. And if you step foot on this property again, Mauricio won't call the police—he’ll have you arrested for trespassing and assault.”
Bruno stood up so fast his chair tipped backward, crashing loudly against the linoleum floor.
“You’re bluffing!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips, his chest heaving as the mask of charm completely shattered, revealing the desperate, spoiled toddler beneath the twenty-three-year-old frame. “You both are bluffing! You need me! Who’s going to take care of you when you're old? Who’s going to fix things around here? Without me, you’re just two pathetic, bitter old people living in the past!”
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Neither Elena nor Mauricio flinched. They didn't yell back. They simply watched him unravel, the silence of their composure acting like a mirror reflecting his total, pathetic insignificance.
“Pack your bags, Bruno,” Mauricio said quietly, pulling out his phone and checking the time. “You have five hours and fifteen minutes.”
