I kept my fortune hidden to protect you. Not from the world, but from those who would use you. Now it is yours.
Use it with dignity. With clarity. And with freedom.”
My father had seen everything.
What I excused.
What I minimized.
What I refused to confront.
He had protected me the only way he could.
By waiting.
When I returned home that evening, Tomás was pacing the living room.
He turned the moment I walked in, barely containing his agitation.
I removed my coat slowly and placed it on the chair.
“They’re part of what my father left me,” I said calmly.
He laughed sharply. “Left you? Since when do you have people like that?”
“Since today,” I replied.
The shift unsettled him.
I could see it in his eyes.
Control was slipping.
