“The direct bloodline belongs to the son you and Efraín tried to erase from the ledger forty years ago, Paulina,” Ofelia said, standing up with absolute, unyielding sovereignty, her gold earrings catching the first rays of the Poblano sun breaking through the glass. “The paternity test and the adoption fraud trail were fully verified by the treasury court while I was letting you plan your little character trap. You ran your calculations on a superficial profile, assuming an old piece of furniture doesn’t know how to execute a foreclosure.”
The twin enforcement officers stepped forward right on cue, their hands resting flat against their utility belts as they politely but firmly pointed toward the exit gates.
The arrogant daughter who had spent years treating her mother as a free backing facility was now completely bankrupt, stripped of her stolen status, her mansion, and her pride before the morning court could even convene.
