A man approached — not one of the old staff. Someone new.

“Sir,” the guard said calmly, “this property was sold yesterday by its legal owner, Mrs. Sofía Aguilar. You no longer reside here.”

Valeria’s suitcase slipped from her hand and hit the pavement.

Mauricio didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t understand.

And I watched all of it.

From my phone.

Through the security cameras.

For the first time in days… I smiled.

Not out of revenge.

Continued on the next page