An hour later, I stood in a spotless lobby that felt too polished for the mess in my chest. Mateo bounced on my hip, refusing to be quiet for anyone. My lawyer arrived carrying a folder and curiosity.
The box was small. Inside: a flash drive, another envelope, and a notarized affidavit.
My lawyer read the affidavit first. His eyebrows lifted.
“This is very good,” he said quietly.
It was a sworn statement from Mr. Alvarez — clear, detailed, anticipating the nephews’ challenge. He explained our relationship, the timeline, his mental clarity. He even wrote that he expected hostility from his family and wanted his intentions preserved.
“But we have the video,” I whispered.
“Video is emotional,” my lawyer replied. “This is legal steel.”
He opened the flash drive. Two files appeared: a recording and meeting notes.
He pressed play.
Victor’s voice filled the small office: “I don’t care about the old man. I care about the house.” Another voice laughed. “If she keeps it, we get nothing.”
My hands went cold around Mateo.