Chapter 2 - The Audit of Deceit
By the second day, the atmosphere in the house had shifted from triumph to tension.
Mauricio had spent the morning on the phone with his creditors.
His voice was growing increasingly desperate as his loan applications were denied one after another.
Abril sat in the living room, staring at a stack of unpaid bills.
Her manicured fingers were drumming against the mahogany table.
Graciela, meanwhile, was pacing the hallway.
Her expression was unreadable.
She had expected Valeria to come crawling back, begging for forgiveness.
She perhaps even expected an offer of a settlement of some kind.
But there was nothing.
The silence from Valeria was not the silence of the defeated.
It was the silence of a calm before a storm.
Then came the knock at the door.
It was not the soft, tentative knock of a daughter returning home.
It was the firm, authoritative rap of an official.
Mr. Alarcón stood on the porch with two men in suits, carrying heavy briefcases.
Graciela opened the door, her face hardening.
"We didn't order anything," she snapped.
"We aren't interested in solicitors."
"I am not a solicitor, señora," Mr. Alarcón replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
"I am here representing the trust that owns this property."
"I am here to conduct a mandatory audit of the estate’s assets and to serve these documents."
Graciela’s face turned pale.
"The trust? What trust?"
"This is my house."
"Arturo left this house to me!"
Alarcón held up a document, his eyes cold.
"According to the deed and the legal trust established in 2012, this property belongs to Valeria Sandoval."
"You have been living here by her grace, and as of this morning, that grace has been revoked."
Mauricio pushed past her, his face flushed with rage.
"You can’t just walk in here and kick us out!"
"We have rights!"
"We have lived here for years!"
Alarcón didn't blink.
"You have no rights to this property, Mr. Moreno."
"Furthermore, the audit is looking into unauthorized transfers from the estate’s primary accounts over the last thirty-six months."
"We have proof of systematic embezzlement."
"The house is the least of your concerns."
Abril gasped, her hand flying to her throat.
She looked at her father, then at Graciela.
The reality was setting in—the life they had curated, the expensive clothes, the dinners, the sense of entitlement, had all been built on Valeria’s bank account.
They hadn't just been living with a family member.
They had been feeding off a source they now realized they had poisoned.
Graciela tried to speak, her voice trembling, but the words failed her.
May you like
She had burned her daughter for a suit and a car.
Now, the house she had called her own was dissolving into a pile of legal ruin.
