Chapter 2
I didn't sleep after seeing Renata Villaseñor's signature.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that document.
PROPERTY TRANSFER AGREEMENT.
My mother-in-law's name appeared beneath the same title.
And my husband, who had spent seven years insisting his parents were merely traditional, looked as though someone had dragged a buried secret into the light.
At midnight, I asked him to tell me everything.
We sat at our kitchen table.
The groceries remained untouched on the island.
Apparently, none of our unexpected guests had bothered to clean up before leaving.
Mateo stared at his phone.
"Renata and I dated for almost three years."
I folded my arms.
"How serious?"
"We were engaged."
I felt a sharp sting.
He had never mentioned an engagement.
Not once.
"Why did you hide that?"
"I didn't think it mattered anymore."
"Then why is her name appearing in a property agreement with your mother?"
He looked away.
"I don't know."
I wanted to believe him.
But those words weren't enough.
"Start from the beginning."
Mateo explained that Renata's father, Julián Villaseñor, had owned warehouses and commercial property around Querétaro.
Ernesto's company had worked with Julián for years.
The families attended the same parties.
Shared holidays.
Discussed business constantly.
When Mateo started dating Renata, both families were delighted.
His father talked about expanding the installation company.
Julián talked about creating a joint commercial development.
Beatriz began planning the wedding before anyone proposed.
Then Mateo and Renata started arguing.
"About what?" I asked.
"Everything."
"That's not an answer."
He sighed.
"She wanted me to leave my father's company and work for her family."
"And you didn't?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"We broke up."
I studied him.
"Just like that?"
He hesitated.
Then admitted, "My mother blamed me. She said I'd destroyed an opportunity that could have made our family wealthy."
I looked at the document again.
"Did Renata sign this before or after the breakup?"
"I don't know."
"Did she disappear?"
Mateo frowned.
"She left Querétaro shortly afterward. I heard she moved to Guadalajara."
"Did you ever speak again?"
"No."
Something bothered me.
The anonymous message hadn't said to ask Mateo what Renata signed.
It said to ask Ernesto.
I opened the photograph on my laptop.
The document was blurry, but I could distinguish a reference to Paseo del Mezquite.
Our street.
My heart began pounding.
"Mateo."
He leaned closer.
"What?"
I enlarged the image.
"There."
His face changed.
A parcel number appeared near the top.
QRO-17-8842.
I didn't recognize it.
But I recognized the neighborhood.
"Was your family involved in developing El Refugio?"
Mateo shook his head.
"Not that I know of."
I stared at the screen.
"Then why does an agreement involving your former fiancée mention property near our house?"
Neither of us answered.
At seven the next morning, I called my mother.
She answered sleepily.
"Valeria?"
"Mom, I need to ask you something."
"What's wrong?"
I explained the gathering.
The threats.
The family meeting.
Her voice grew cold.
"They threatened your house?"
"Yes."
"After I helped you buy it?"
"I know."
My mother, Lucía Morales, had worked as a primary school principal for thirty years.
She wasn't wealthy.
But she was careful with money.
The 600,000 pesos she contributed had come from land inherited from her parents.
It was one of the most generous gifts anyone had ever given me.
"Bring every document," she said.
"I will."
"And don't let them convince you that gratitude means surrendering your legal rights."
I closed my eyes.
"Thank you, Mom."
At eight, I called our attorney, Gabriela Fuentes.
She had helped us purchase the house.
When I explained what happened, she asked for the deed, mortgage statements, and any documents connected to the original purchase.
Then she asked an unexpected question.
"Valeria, who was the seller?"
"A development company."
"Which one?"
I checked the deed.
"Desarrollos Mezquite Norte."
Gabriela became quiet.
"Have you ever heard the name Villaseñor associated with that company?"
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Because Julián Villaseñor was involved in several land developments in that area."
I looked toward Mateo.
He was standing beside the kitchen window.
"Gabriela, there's more."
I forwarded the photograph.
She studied it.
Then said, "Do not sign anything at today's meeting."
"I wasn't planning to."
"And bring copies, not your only originals."
I thanked her.
She offered to attend by video if necessary.
At nine-thirty, Mateo and I drove to Sergio's house.
Neither of us spoke much.
The streets were bright.
Families walked dogs.
A vendor arranged fruit near a corner store.
Everything looked ordinary.
But inside my purse were documents that proved my legal interest in our home.
And on my phone was a photograph suggesting the Cárdenas family had been discussing property long before I met them.
When we arrived, eight cars lined the street.
Sergio opened the door.
He looked annoyed.
"You're late."
I glanced at my watch.
9:56.
"No, we're not."
He stepped aside.
Inside, the dining table was covered with folders.
Beatriz sat at one end.
Ernesto sat at the other.
Paulina leaned against the wall.
Alejandra stood near the window.
Several relatives occupied the remaining chairs.
A man in a gray suit sat beside Ernesto.
I didn't recognize him.
Beatriz examined my face.
"Good. You came."
"I said I would."
She pointed toward an empty chair.
"Sit."
I remained standing.
"First, I'd like to know what this meeting concerns."
Ernesto sighed.
"Don't begin with an argument."
Mateo stepped beside me.
"Then explain why we're here."
Beatriz folded her hands.
"This family has sacrificed too much to tolerate disrespect."
I almost laughed.
"You organized an unauthorized dinner in my home and threatened my property because I refused to cook."
Paulina rolled her eyes.
"You're still talking about dinner?"
"No," I answered. "I'm talking about control."
The man in the gray suit looked up.
Ernesto cleared his throat.
"We're here to discuss business succession and certain property obligations."
I opened my purse.
Then placed a copy of our deed on the table.
"Before anyone discusses my house, let's establish who owns it."
Beatriz smiled.
"The paperwork isn't the whole story."
I looked directly at her.
"Then tell the rest."
The attorney in gray opened his briefcase.
"My name is Licenciado Arturo Salcedo."
He placed a yellowed document beside my deed.
Mateo went completely still.
Arturo pointed toward the title.
"Before we proceed, everyone needs to understand an earlier agreement concerning this property."
I leaned forward.
Two signatures appeared at the bottom.
Renata Villaseñor.
Beatriz Cárdenas.
And beneath them was a clause referring to an unpaid financial obligation.
I looked at Mateo.
He had gone pale.
Then Arturo said, "Mrs. Morales, the Cárdenas family claims that your home was purchased using funds subject to an earlier disputed agreement."
I stared at him.
"How much?"
He turned a page.
"One million eight hundred thousand pesos."
May you like
Beatriz smiled.
And I realized she'd brought an attorney because she expected me to surrender.
