PART 3 – THE HIDDEN CONTRACT
The silence on the line lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. My hand was shaking so hard I nearly dropped the phone. I had to buy time. I needed to understand how far this conspiracy went and who else was involved. “I'm stuck in traffic, Daniel,” I lied, trying to keep my voice unnaturally calm. “It's raining heavily and traffic is completely gridlocked near the bridge.” On the other side, I heard Daniel let out a long sigh.
A sigh of irritation, but also of urgency. “Make sure you're here in twenty minutes, Mom. This is no time to be late. Everything is organized down to the smallest detail. You just need to put your signature down, and then we'll all be free from this old burden.” “From this old burden?” I repeated softly to myself. So that was what they called the house where my mother had lived her whole life.
To them, it wasn't a memory, it wasn't a home, but merely a pile of money waiting to be divided up. “I'm on my way,” I said with a lump in my throat, and hung up immediately before he could ask anything else. I sat in the car with my heart pounding in my throat. The rain pattered incessantly on the roof, but inside me, a far more violent storm was raging.
I looked through the fogged windshield toward my mother's house. Now that I knew the truth, I saw the property through entirely different eyes. It was no longer an abandoned, cold building; it was a fortress my mother had used to protect me, even from beyond the grave. But what was I supposed to do now? Drive to the notary's office and pretend nothing was wrong?
Or could I use these records to stop everything? I decided I needed more proof. The yellow envelope contained the warning, but in the other boxes, there were perhaps further details about my children's financial machinations. I got out of the car, ignored the pouring rain, and ran back inside. The front door closed behind me with a dull thud. Stepping quickly, I went toward the room where the boxes were set out.
I began feverishly flipping through the letters in the other boxes. Each box was intended for a specific family member, but there was also a box containing documents my mother had evidently taken from Daniel's study during one of her rare visits to his apartment. I opened a large yellow binder. Inside, my eyes caught something that made me hold my breath once more.
It was an official promissory note. Signed by Daniel. He had borrowed an enormous sum from a well-known informal loan shark to finance a real estate speculation that had failed completely. If he didn't return the money within two months, they would not only seize all his assets but also ruin his life. And Sofia? Sofia was acting as guarantor for that loan.
She had mortgaged her own apartment as collateral without her husband or anyone else knowing. They were backed against the wall. Their luxury cars, their expensive clothes, their alleged success—it was all a facade. They were broke, and they had thought Grandma's house was their only lifeline. And who would shoulder the liabilities once the house was sold and the proceeds divided?
Me. Because they wanted to entangle me in a structure where I was listed as the seller and would take on the tax liability. Suddenly, I heard a sound near the front door. The sound of a key turning in the lock. My blood ran cold in my veins. Someone was opening the door. “Mom? Are you still here?” Sofia's voice echoed through the silent hallway. Her footsteps clattered on the wooden floor, coming closer and closer to the study. I stood frozen in place with the incriminating binder in my hands.
