PART 3
“Twelve?” my mom blurted out, forgetting she was in a courtroom. “Twelve properties?”
The judge looked at her firmly, and my mother lowered her head, red with shame. But it was too late. The whole courtroom had heard.
Claudia looked at me as if I had betrayed her by not telling her how much I had. Esteban, on the other hand, stopped acting. His eyes began to move quickly, calculating, searching for a way out.
—To clarify —the judge said—, what other properties are part of that company?
My lawyer stood up.
—Your Honor, my client owns commercial properties in Puebla, apartments in Mexico City, a warehouse in Toluca, small offices in Querétaro, and three residential properties. The house in Tepoztlán is not a family inheritance. She acquired it with her own funds before her sister attempted to claim it.
My father clenched his jaw.
For years they called me selfish for not lending money. They called me cold for not paying Claudia’s debts. They mocked my business trips and late-night meetings. They never asked what I was building. They just assumed that if I didn’t brag about it, it didn’t exist.
Claudia’s lawyer stood up, nervous.
—That doesn’t change the fact that there is a signed document.
Attorney Ortega opened his black folder.
—Exactly. That’s why we need to talk about the signature.
Claudia blinked.
—What do you mean?
My lawyer submitted a file to the judge.
—We presented an expert report. The signature on the alleged agreement does not belong to Mariana Aguilar. It was forged. Poorly forged, moreover.
“Lies!” Claudia shouted. “She did sign it!”
The judge slammed her fist on the table.
—Order in the room.
Esteban said nothing. Not a word.
That’s what confirmed everything for me.
Ortega walked towards the court screen.
—We also have evidence of how the document was fabricated.
The screen lit up. An image of my office in Tepoztlán appeared. A security camera showed the side entrance of the house. The date was October 4th, almost six weeks after the supposed signing.
The door opened.
Esteban entered.
My mother screamed. Claudia put her hands to her mouth. My father remained motionless.
In the video, Esteban walked toward my desk, opened drawers, checked folders, and took out letterhead from my company. Then he took a pen from my desk, looked around, and left the way he came in.
Ortega paused the image just as Esteban raised his face towards the camera.
—The man entered private property without authorization and stole corporate stationery. Later, that stationery appeared in the document presented by the plaintiff.
Esteban stood up furiously.
—That proves nothing! Besides, that camera shouldn’t be there!
For the first time, I looked at him directly.
—I was inside my house, Esteban. You were the one who shouldn’t have been there.
Claudia turned towards him, trembling.
—You told me Mariana had signed. You told me we just had to put a little pressure on her.
Esteban laughed, but his laughter was broken.
—Don’t play the saint. You were the one who said you couldn’t stand seeing your single sister living better than you.
My mom started to cry. My dad closed his eyes.
The judge asked for silence, but no one could pretend anymore.
Then my lawyer pulled out another envelope.
—Your Honor, one more piece of evidence is needed.
And when Claudia saw the envelope, I understood that she knew exactly what was coming.
What do you think was in that last envelope, and who do you think was the real mastermind behind it all?
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