Chapter 5 - THE LEGAL TIDE
Two weeks later, the war moved from silent threats into the open courtroom.
Gabriel Vance, my attorney, sat across from me in his glass-walled office in the city center. Spread out across the mahogany table were thick stacks of financial affidavits, police reports, and property deeds.
"The eviction on the courtyard house is fully finalized," Gabriel reported, sliding a gold pen across the table. "Your mother attempted to file an emergency stay, claiming life-tenancy rights under traditional family inheritance laws, but because the deed was held entirely under your name and funded through your personal refinancing, the judge dismissed her claim with prejudice."
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"She’s still staying at Don Fernando’s guest property," Gabriel said. "However, the criminal complaint for extortion and elder financial abuse has been formally accepted by the district prosecutor. Your mother received her official court summons yesterday morning."
I nodded, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction. "And the property sale?"
"I have a buyer lined up for the courtyard house," Gabriel smiled faintly. "A private developer wants to turn the plot into a boutique hotel. The purchase offer is twelve million pesos—twenty percent above market value."
"Sell it," I said without hesitation. "Transfer every single peso from the sale directly into the trust fund set up for Elena’s medical treatments and recovery research."
At that moment, Gabriel’s assistant knocked on the glass door and stepped inside, holding a white envelope.
"Mr. Vance, this was just delivered by a courier from the District Attorney's office," she said, handing the letter to Gabriel.
Gabriel tore open the envelope, scanning the contents quickly. His eyebrows shot up.
"What is it?" I asked, my chest tightening.
"It seems your mother’s legal defense team just submitted their formal counter-evidence," Gabriel frowned, reading through the pages. "They are claiming that the bank transfers from Elena to your mother were not extortion, but rather voluntary repayments for a business loan your late father allegedly made to Elena’s family farm ten years ago."
I scoffed. "That’s a lie! Elena’s father never took a loan from my family!"
"They’ve submitted a signed promissory note," Gabriel said, holding up a copy of a yellowed piece of paper bearing a signature that looked remarkably like Elena’s father’s handwriting. "Dated eight years ago. Totaling eight hundred thousand pesos."
A cold spike of adrenaline shot through my veins. "Her father passed away five years ago, Gabriel. He can't testify whether that signature is real or forged."
"If this document stands up in court," Gabriel said gravely, "it could complicate the criminal extortion charges. It gives your mother a legal defense—claiming she was merely collecting a legitimate debt owed to her deceased husband’s estate."
"It’s a forgery," I stood up, grabbing my coat. "My mother didn't even know Elena’s family eight years ago. I didn't meet Elena until six years ago!"
"Then we need to prove the paper and the ink were manufactured recently," Gabriel said, standing up beside me. "I’ll hire a forensic document examiner immediately. But Mateo... your mother is playing dirty. She’s willing to commit forgery and perjury to avoid going to prison."
"She’s desperate," I said, buttoning my coat. "Desperate people make mistakes. Tell the examiner to check the paper for chemical aging. We are going to expose every single lie she has ever told."
As I left Gabriel’s office, my phone buzzed with an incoming text from an unknown number.
May you like
Unknown: If you want the truth about the promissory note, come to the coffee shop behind the old cathedral at 5 PM. Come alone. - Aunt Sofia.
I stared at the screen. My Aunt Sofia—the woman who had stood beside my mother in the hospital room, screaming at me—was reaching out in secret. The cracks in my mother's alliance were finally beginning to show.
