The old man closed his eyes.

Javier swallowed.

“So everything was fake.”

She shook her head, but was unable to offer any explanation.

“Did my father touch you?”

“No.”

The word was only a whisper.

“Stronger.”

Lucía looked up.

“No. He didn’t touch me. »

Javier felt like he was running out of air.

He looked at his father.

This man he had just hit.

Then he looked at his own hands.

He remembered the punch.

The sound of dentures falling on the floor.

From the expression of Don Ernesto.

And he understood that he had done something that he could never erase.

He approached the sofa.

“Dad… »

Don Ernesto did not look at him.

“Not now, Javier.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not now.”

The silence became unbearable.

Javier backs down.

Lucía tried to approach him.

“Honey, I…” »

“Don’t call me that anymore.”

She froze.

« Javier… »

“You used my trust to push me to attack my own father.”

Lucía lowered her head.

“I was scared.”

“And that’s why you decided to destroy someone who had never hurt you.”

She did not answer.

Don Ernesto rose slowly.

“It’s not over yet.”

Javier turns around.

“What?”

“Arturo doesn’t need me to leave this house for good.”

The old man pointed to the documents in the red envelope.

“All it takes is one opportunity for him to sign me.”

“I will not allow it.”

Don Ernesto looked at him wearily.

“You’ve already allowed far too many things.”

These words remained suspended between them.

Suddenly, Lucía’s phone rang again.

It was Arturo.

Javier looked at the screen.

Then his father.

“I’ll answer.”

Don Ernesto shook his head.

“No.”

“Why?”

The old man took a deep breath.

“Because Arturo doesn’t work alone.”

Javier frowned.

“How do you know?”

Don Ernesto went to an old wooden cabinet.

He opened a drawer.

A photograph came out.

And handed it to his son.

Javier immediately recognized Arturo Salcedo.

But he was not alone.

Next to him was a man in his sixties, dressed in a gray suit.

Javier knew that face perfectly.

He had seen it throughout his childhood.

This man had shared meals at their home.

He had attended his mother’s funeral.

It was Ricardo Valdés.

Don Ernesto’s best friend.

And the lawyer who had been administering the family’s legal affairs for more than twenty years.

Javier raised his head.

« Ricardo ? »

His father nodded.

“I think he’s been preparing all this for months.”

“Since when have you known this?”

Don Ernesto took a long time to reply.

“Since I found a copy of my will… with a signature that I never affixed. »

CHAPTER 4. THE LAWYER WHO KNEW ALL THE SECRETS

Ricardo Valdés was practically part of the Morales family.

When Javier was little, he called him “Uncle Ricardo”.

There was not a Christmas without his visit.

Nor an important birthday without his gift.

He had accompanied Don Ernesto during the cancer of his wife, Elena.

He had organized the inheritance procedures.

He had cried at the funeral.

At least, that’s what Javier had always believed.

“It’s not possible,” he murmured, looking at the photograph. Ricardo would never do such a thing to us. »

Don Ernesto laughed bitterly.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking for thirty years.”

The old man slowly walked back to the couch.

Javier sat down across from him.

Lucía stood by the door, her phone in her hands.

Her husband no longer looked at her.

“Explain everything to me from the beginning,” Javier asked.

Don Ernesto was silent for a few moments.

“Six months ago, Ricardo came to see me with papers.”

“What papers?”

“He told me that we had to update my will.”

The explanation seemed reasonable.

Don Ernesto had just turned seventy.

Her health was not bad, but her doctor had recommended that she reduce her stress.

Ricardo had insisted that he put his affairs in order, for peace of mind.

He had brought her a document already prepared.

Everything seemed fine.

The house would go to Javier.

The savings would be distributed in accordance with the arrangements that Don Ernesto had made years before.

A small donation to the association where Elena had volunteered would also be respected.

But one detail aroused the old man’s suspicions.

In one of the documents was a company called Patrimonios del Centro.

“I asked him what it was,” Don Ernesto explained. He told me that she was only in charge of administrative management. »

“And what have you done?”

“I didn’t sign.”

Ricardo had become angry.

Not openly.

But Don Ernesto knew him too well.

He had noticed how his former friend clenched his jaws.

How he hastily picked up the documents.

How he avoided her gaze.

Two weeks later, Ricardo had returned.