Esteban, the most talkative, answered, “Since Mom went away. A long time ago. Before my last birthday. Daddy said we had to wait until ‘Uncle Damián’ brought a paper.”
“Uncle Damián?” A chill ran through Camila. The lawyer wasn’t just their attorney—he was a trusted family acquaintance.
Lucía spoke next, her voice soft. “He brought us water sometimes. But he said if we made noise, we’d never see Daddy again.”
Everything clicked into place. Mr. Montenegro—the millionaire—was their father. Too old, too sick, or too unaware to realize what was happening. And Damián, the lawyer, controlled the property and the fortune.
“Do you know what paper you were waiting for?” Camila asked.
Mateo, the shyest, pulled something from beneath the blanket. It was a crumpled, stained document, printed on official legal letterhead.
A copy of Mr. Montenegro’s will.
Using the flashlight, Camila read quickly.
The document was clear: the entire inheritance—and ownership of the mansion—would pass to Mr. Montenegro’s three legitimate children, Esteban, Lucía, and Mateo, when they turned eighteen.
But there was one crucial clause.