PART 2 – THE TRUTH ABOUT MY CHILDREN
The words kept echoing in my head as if they came from another world. My children had lied to me? How was that possible? Daniel, who always seemed so concerned about my future, and Sofia, who hugged me so often telling me she loved me—how could they have done something so terrible to me that it forced their grandmother to leave it written in a secret letter?
With trembling hands, I dropped the letter onto the wooden table. The room suddenly felt suffocating. The old walls seemed to close in, as if the house itself had been a witness to a forgotten drama and was now finally holding its breath. I forced myself to pick up the letter again and keep reading. Every word cut through my thoughts like sharp glass.
“My dear daughter, you have always thought your children loved you for who you are. And perhaps in their own way they do, but their greed has become greater than their love. The house is not simply any piece of real estate. It is the only asset left free from their debts.” Debts? But didn't Daniel and Sofia have good jobs? Daniel worked at a large financial consulting firm, and Sofia had recently mentioned that her company was growing enormously.
Why on earth would they have debts? My mother continued writing, recounting an episode from two years earlier. A time when I was so busy with my projects that I barely had time to visit her. During that period, Daniel and Sofia had repeatedly pressured my mother to sell the house. They wanted to use the money to save their high-risk investments. When my mother refused, because the house was the family's only remaining inheritance, they began threatening to isolate her from me.
They told my mother that I never had time for her anyway and that they were the only ones who still cared about her. My stomach knotted. Tears rolled down my cheeks, not out of sadness, but out of pure anger and disbelief. My own children had emotionally abused my elderly mother, and I hadn't noticed a thing. I had been blind, blinded by my busy life and my blind trust in them.
But there was more written in the letter. Something that made my blood run cold. “The buyer to whom you are selling the house today… is no stranger. Look closely at the name on the deed of sale before you affix your signature.” I froze. The deed of sale. It was in my bag in the car. Without thinking twice, I turned, ran down the dusty hallway, and threw open the front door.
The cold rain hit my face, but I didn't even feel it. I ran to the car, opened the door, and grabbed the folder on the passenger seat. I opened the folder, pulled out the deed of sale, and immediately flipped to the buyer's signature line. My eyes scanned the printed letters. The buyer was an unknown holding company, registered to an address downtown.
But at the bottom was the name of the authorized representative. The notary's signature was authentic, but above it was a name I knew all too well. The name of Daniel's best friend and business partner. A wave of panic and realization washed over me. It was not a random sale. It was a scheme orchestrated down to the finest detail. They were buying the house for a fraction of its value through a nominee, only to resell it immediately afterward for a massive profit that would go straight into their own pockets.
And I was supposed to sign the deed in an hour. My phone began to vibrate in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out and saw the screen light up. It was Daniel. “Mom? Where on earth are you?” his voice sounded impatient and sharp from the other end of the line. “The notary is already waiting for you. Hurry up, otherwise the appointment will fall through and we'll have to start all over again.” I held the phone close to my ear, but I couldn't utter a single word. My breath hitched in my throat. “Mom? Are you still there?” Daniel asked, this time with a strange edge of tension in his voice. “You are going to sign, right?”
