Chapter 2 - The Title Deed
The air in the kitchen instantly turned ice cold. Raúl stopped breathing, his mouth hanging open slightly as his eyes darted from Mariana to his mother.
"What... what did you just say?" Raúl stammered, the bravado draining rapidly from his voice.
"You heard me," Mariana said calmly, stepping over the puddle of beans. She walked past them toward the entryway closet, retrieved her trench coat, and slipped it on. "For eleven years, Raúl, you told me your salary was for your mother's medical emergencies, your nephews' gifts, and your own peace of mind. You made me shoulder every single domestic expense—the mortgage, the tuition, the groceries, the utilities—while you saved every cent of your maintenance technician paychecks in a secret account."
Raúl’s face turned completely pale. "How... how do you know about that account?"
"Because I am the one who manages corporate logistics for a living. Did you really think I wouldn't notice the systematic wire transfers leaving your payroll account every two weeks?" Mariana pulled a pristine, laminated document from her leather handbag and held it up under the dim hallway light. "Two years ago, when the bank threatened foreclosure because you spent your entire bonus on Elvira's unauthorized kitchen remodel, I didn't borrow money from my parents. I restructured the loan. I refinanced the mortgage solely under my name, using my own inheritance and corporate bonuses as collateral. Legally, Raúl, you defaulted on your verbal and financial agreements to this household long ago. This apartment, the furniture, and the land it sits on belong 100 percent to me and Sofía."
Elvira shrieked, lunging forward like a cornered animal to snatch the paper from Mariana's hand, but Mariana stepped back effortlessly.
"And as for you, Elvira," Mariana continued, turning her piercing gaze toward the older woman, "you have thirty minutes to pack your imitation-leather suitcases. Because if you aren't out on the curb by 1:00 AM, I won't just call the police for trespassing—I will hand them the forensic accounting report of the last five years, detailing how you used my household utilities and grocery budgets to fund your secret savings account in Michoacán."
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"You wouldn't dare!" Elvira screamed, her face contorting with genuine terror. "You're ruining New Year's Eve! You're destroying this family!"
"Family?" Mariana laughed bitterly. "The family died the moment your son decided our daughter's tuition was less important than funding your neighborhood gossip sessions. Raúl, sign the final property release papers waiting on the kitchen counter—the ones you thought were utility forms last week—or I swear to God, I will have you evicted by sunrise."
