Victor continued, smug, outlining how they’d accuse me of manipulation, drag my name through the neighborhood until I gave up. He even mocked my son: “At his age? Who knows if the kid’s even his.”
My lawyer stopped the recording.
“This shows motive. Bad faith,” he said. “They said the quiet part out loud.”
“Can we use it?” I asked.
“If Mr. Alvarez recorded it legally, yes. And even without the audio, the affidavit and notes are powerful.”
I walked out of that bank feeling different. Not safe — but protected.
That night, my phone buzzed from an unknown number: “We can do this the easy way. Leave the house and we won’t ruin you.”
My stomach flipped. I screenshotted it and sent it to my lawyer.
“Do not respond,” he texted back. “Save everything.”
Instead of answering, I walked into Mr. Alvarez’s living room. I looked at the framed photo of him holding Mateo like he was holding sunlight.
“I’m not leaving,” I whispered.