The next afternoon, Mauricio called in panic.
“Mom, I’m at a restaurant with Valeria and clients. The card was declined. What did you do?”
“I closed the account.”
“You humiliated me!”
“No, son. I let you pay for your own food.”
That night, Valeria hosted a dinner in my living room without permission. She used my best dishes and opened a wine bottle my husband had saved for our anniversary.
I came downstairs, turned off the music, and said:
“Good evening. The party is over.”
Her guests left within minutes.
Valeria stepped close, furious.
“You’re going to regret this.”
I said nothing.
But the next morning, I heard her whispering on the phone:
“If we get her to sign the power of attorney, Mauricio can sell the house and send the old lady to a retirement home.”
I froze.
She had not only wanted to humiliate me.
