The next morning, wrk I sold the office building he was renting—something he never knew was mine.-olweny

11:49—

While my son sat in his glass office on Reforma, convinced that his life was untouchable—

I signed the papers.

The house… was no longer his.

Actually… it never was.

12:17, my phone rang.

His name appeared on the screen.

I looked at him for a few seconds.

And I knew exactly what was happening.

Because at that moment—

Someone had just rung the doorbell of the mansion.

And the person who was on the other side of the door…

I hadn’t come to wish him a good day.

The doorbell rang again.

Once.
Twice.
Three times.

Diego thought it was some guest who had forgotten something from the night before. He walked toward the door, annoyed, still with the phone pressed to his ear.

—Dad, what did you do? —his voice was no longer arrogant… it was tense.

I didn’t respond immediately.

I just breathed.