The next morning, I walked into the bank Martín had listed in the documents. A young advisor led me into a private room, where she explained carefully:
“Your husband established clear terms to protect you. Yesterday, someone attempted to access the account without authorization. Likely a family member.”
After leaving the bank, I phoned Rosa again. “If Martín left me these documents to help me, should I use them?”
“You should,” she said softly. “But talk to your son, too. He’s overwhelmed. Not heartless.”
She was right. I needed to face him—not with anger, but with clarity.
The next day, I sent him a message:
“We need to talk. Tomorrow, 10 a.m., El Molino café. If you don’t come, I will take legal action.”
He arrived late. He looked exhausted, nervous, and nothing like the child I had raised.
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