Chapter 2
Sleep never came that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marco as a little boy running across our ranch in Coahuila, laughing as he chased the calves through the pasture. His tiny boots were always caked with mud, and every evening he would burst through the front door shouting, "Mom! Look what I found!"
Back then, he had been my entire world.
After my husband died in a highway accident, people told me to sell the ranch. They said a young widow could never manage hundreds of acres, dozens of workers, and a growing cattle business.
They underestimated me.
I learned to negotiate with suppliers who refused to take a woman seriously.
I drove trucks myself when drivers quit.
I branded cattle beneath the scorching northern Mexican sun.
I slept in the office more nights than I slept in my own bedroom.
Little by little, one ranch became two.
Then came warehouses.
Rental properties.
Investments.
Every peso I earned carried a memory of sacrifice.
I had never inherited wealth.
I had built it.
For Marco.
Or so I had believed.
The following morning, Dr. Ramiro entered my room earlier than usual.
"You have visitors," he said quietly.
"I know."
"They aren't your son."
That caught my attention.
A moment later, an elegant man in his sixties entered the room carrying a leather briefcase.
His silver hair was perfectly combed.
His dark suit looked expensive without trying to.
"Good morning, Elena."
I smiled faintly.
"Ricardo."
Licenciado Ricardo Mendoza had been my attorney for almost twenty-five years.
He had helped me purchase my first warehouse.
He had written every contract that protected my businesses.
Most importantly...
He had drafted my will.
"I came as soon as Ramiro called."
He pulled a chair beside my bed.
"I've brought copies of every legal document you've ever signed."
I looked toward the closed door.
"They can't know you're here."
"They don't."
He smiled slightly.
"They think I'm attending a conference in Mexico City."
He opened his briefcase.
"The first thing we need to establish is exactly what Marco believes he's inheriting."
He laid several folders across my bed.
"My current estate is valued at approximately five million pesos in liquid assets."
I nodded.
"The ranch alone has doubled in value over the last four years."
He continued.
"The three rental properties in Monterrey are fully paid off."
"The warehouse complex brings in steady monthly income."
"The investment portfolio remains untouched."
Then he looked directly at me.
"And your current will leaves everything to Marco."
The words hit me harder than any injury.
"I wrote that will ten years ago."
"You did."
"I never imagined..."
Ricardo finished the sentence for me.
"...that your own son would celebrate your death."
Silence settled between us.
Finally, I asked the question that had haunted me all night.
"If I die today..."
"Everything belongs to Marco."
"And if he goes to prison?"
"The inheritance remains his unless you legally change the will before your death."
I closed my eyes.
"So even after trying to kill me..."
"He could still inherit."
For several seconds no one spoke.
Then Ricardo slowly slid a blank document across the bed.
"We can change that."
An hour later, Marco and Raquel arrived carrying flowers.
Flowers.
I almost laughed.
Yesterday they had discussed my funeral.
Today they brought roses.
"My beautiful mother," Marco said warmly.
"You look much better."
Raquel kissed my forehead.
"We prayed all night for you."
I smiled weakly.
"Thank you."
They looked relieved.
Good.
Let them think I believed them.
Marco pulled up a chair.
"The doctor said you're more alert today."
"I suppose."
"That's wonderful."
His eyes drifted toward the bedside cabinet.
"No more paperwork today?"
I shook my head.
"The doctor said... later."
Disappointment flashed across his face before disappearing.
Raquel changed the subject.
"We were talking about the ranch."
My heart skipped a beat.
"What about it?"
"Oh, nothing important."
She smiled sweetly.
"I was just telling Marco that it's probably too much responsibility for us."
Marco immediately understood her game.
"We may have to sell it."
I stared at him.
"Sell it?"
"It isn't practical anymore."
He shrugged.
"Most of those old workers should retire anyway."
"They're loyal people."
"They're expensive people."
He corrected me without hesitation.
"They've worked for us for decades."
"For you," he replied.
"Not for me."
His words cut deeper than he realized.
Those workers had watched him grow up.
Some had carried him on their shoulders during cattle drives.
One of them had donated blood when he was twelve after a riding accident.
To him...
They were now just expenses on a spreadsheet.
That afternoon, after Marco and Raquel left, Ricardo remained behind.
"I have an idea," he said.
"I'm listening."
"We don't merely protect your estate."
"We expose their motives beyond any doubt."
"How?"
He removed another folder.
"Create a new will."
"I already planned to."
"Not this one."
He smiled.
"We'll prepare two."
I frowned.
"Two?"
"The real will..."
He tapped the first folder.
"...and the one they'll steal."
Understanding slowly spread across my face.
"You think they'll try to read it."
"I think they'll do much more than that."
He leaned closer.
"They're desperate."
"If they believe you've changed the inheritance..."
"They'll panic."
"And desperate people make mistakes."
Dr. Ramiro nodded in agreement.
"Exactly what we need."
Ricardo opened a blank page.
"The fake will leaves nearly everything to charity."
"And Marco?"
"Only one hundred thousand pesos."
I couldn't help smiling.
"Raquel will lose her mind."
"That's the idea."
The fake will was completed before sunset.
Everything about it looked authentic.
Official seals.
Witness signatures.
Even notarized certification.
Only four people knew the truth.
Me.
Ricardo.
Dr. Ramiro.
And the notary public who had served my family for twenty years.
The genuine will remained locked inside Ricardo's office safe.
The counterfeit copy...
Was intentionally placed inside the drawer of my hospital bedside table.
Exactly where an impatient heir would eventually look.
Before leaving, Ricardo turned back toward me.
"Elena."
"Yes?"
"If Marco crosses one more line..."
"He won't just lose his inheritance."
"He'll lose his freedom."
I watched him walk out of the room.
Minutes later, I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Then familiar voices.
Marco.
Raquel.
They had come back.
But this time...
They didn't knock.
Instead, they stood outside my door, whispering.
"I saw the lawyer leave," Raquel whispered.
"So did I," Marco replied.
"He must have changed something."
"We have to know what."
"The old woman is asleep."
"Then let's go inside."
My heart pounded as the doorknob slowly began to turn.
Without opening my eyes, I slowed my breathing, pretending to remain unconscious.
The room fell silent.
I could hear them moving carefully across the floor.
A drawer slid open.
Paper rustled.
Then Raquel gasped.
"Oh... my... God."
Marco snatched the document from her hands.
His breathing became heavier with every page he read.
"This can't be happening..."
"What does it say?" Raquel whispered.
Marco's voice trembled with rage.
"She changed everything."
The silence that followed lasted only a second.
Then Raquel uttered the words that would change all of our lives.
May you like
"If she's taking everything away from us..."
"...then she can't be allowed to wake up tomorrow."
