It was still early when she blocked the entrance to my new apartment in Santa Fe. Her hair was messy, her clothes wrinkled, and the moment she saw me, she dropped to her knees.
“Rebeca, please!”
“Don’t take away the only thing I have left!”
“How am I supposed to live now?”
Neighbors began to gather and whisper:
“Isn’t her son a wealthy businessman?”
“Then why is she still depending on her ex-daughter-in-law?”
Doña Socorro turned pale. Shame showed clearly on her face, but she still clung to my leg, refusing to let go.
I looked down at her calmly.
“You’ve come to the wrong person.”
“I no longer have any relationship with Mauricio. From now on, ask your son—not me.”
She froze for a moment. Panic filled her eyes. But in the next instant, her expression twisted into fury.
“Even if you’re divorced, you still have to take care of me!” she shouted. “Or was all the affection I showed you fake?!”
That was when I finally laughed.
“Affection?”
“You were the one telling everyone I was infertile.”
“You interfered in our marriage and encouraged him to control my money.”
“When he asked me for money, did he ever treat me like family?”
Each word struck her pride like a blow. She trembled with anger, but had no argument left. The murmurs around us grew louder.
At that moment, Mauricio arrived.
Dragging a suitcase in one hand and carrying gifts for his mistress in the other, he froze when he saw what was happening.
“Mom? Rebeca? What’s going on?”
Doña Socorro ran toward him, crying.
“She cut me off! She even sold the house! Where are we going to live now?”
I remained where I stood, arms crossed, watching them calmly.
“I have every right to sell that house.”
“My parents paid for it.”
“And you both forgot something important—you never checked whose name is on the deed.”
Mauricio’s face turned completely pale. Everything fell from his hands. Pamela clung to his arm, looking at me in fear.
I smiled coldly.
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