Chapter 8 - The Eviction of the Past
By eight o'clock the following morning, two large yellow moving trucks pulled up to the curb outside Veronica’s grand two-story house in an affluent gated neighborhood.
I stepped out of my sedan, dressed in a sharp business suit, flanked by Licenciado Gomez and three uniformed police officers carrying an official court order.
When I rang the doorbell, the heavy oak door swung open to reveal Veronica. She looked like a ghost of her former self. Her eyes were sunken, her hair unstyled, and she was still wearing the silk robe from the previous night. Behind her, Fernanda was sitting on the living room sofa, staring blankly at the wall.
When Veronica saw me—and the police officers standing behind me—her face twisted into a snarl of bitter indignation.
"How dare you come back here!" Veronica shrieked, clutching her robe against her neck. "You embarrassment! You brought police to my doorstep? Get off my property before I have you arrested for trespassing!"
Licenciado Gomez stepped forward, adjusting his glasses, holding up a certified legal document.
"Doña Veronica," Gomez said calmly. "I am Licenciado Gomez, representing Señora Laura. We are here under an emergency judicial order issued by the Third Civil Court this morning. All financial accounts associated with your name, as well as those linked to the three shell entities registered under my client's forged signature, have been frozen by federal order."
Veronica went dead silent. The color drained completely from her face. "What... what did you say?"
"Furthermore," Gomez continued, "we are here to oversee the total recovery of my client's personal property, as well as the immediate execution of a lien against this real estate to cover the stolen sum of 560,000 pesos plus legal damages."
"Diego!" Veronica screamed back into the house, her voice echoing with sheer desperation. "Diego! Get down here right now! Your wife is trying to steal my house!"
Diego came down the wide wooden staircase. He was wearing jeans and a rumpled t-shirt, carrying two packed suitcases. He looked at his mother, then at me, and finally at the legal documents in Gomez’s hands.
"She’s not stealing anything, Mom," Diego said, his voice flat and drained of all emotion. "She’s taking back what’s hers."
Veronica stared at her son in absolute disbelief. "Diego... what are you saying? You're letting this woman destroy your mother?"
"You tried to send my wife to prison, Mom," Diego said, stepping down to the foyer and setting his suitcases by the door. "I saw the papers in the box last night after Laura left. You forged her name. You set her up to take the fall for your debts."
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"I did it for the family!" Veronica yelled, tears finally spilling down her withered cheeks. "I did it to give Fernanda a future! I did it to keep us respected!"
"No, Mom," Diego said softly, looking at her with a profound sense of sadness. "You did it for yourself. And I’m not letting you destroy my son’s life any longer."
