She wanted my house.

And my son knew.

PART 3

That night, I did not sleep.

I sat in the dark, thinking of my husband Julián and the life we had built together.

We were never rich. He was a teacher. I sold  food and later ran a small stationery shop. We saved for years to build that house brick by brick.

That house held my memories.

Mauricio’s first steps. Mariana’s first heartbreak. My husband dancing with me in the living room after we finished paying the mortgage.

It was not just property.

It was my life.

The next morning, I visited a lawyer named Raúl Castañeda, recommended by my neighbor Clara. I told him everything: the stolen money, the pressure, the threats, the plan to take control of my affairs and sell my home.

He listened carefully.

Then he said, “If the house is in your name, no one can sell it without your signature. But if they are trying to force you into signing a power of attorney, we must act quickly.”