The scent of jasmine and damp earth was the only thing that kept Doña Elena tethered to reality. Two months. Two months since her son Miguel’s heart had unexpectedly stopped, leaving a void that no words of comfort could fill. Her daughter-in-law, Sofía, moved through the house with a chilling coldness, an indifference that Elena herself couldn’t understand in the midst of her grief.

A week after the funeral, Miguel’s lawyer had called her to his office, an encounter that had left her in shock.

“Doña Elena, the will is clear,” the notary had told her. “Miguel is leaving you the house he lives in, as well as the apartment in the city he bought last year. The rest of his assets, including his bank accounts, have been put in your name.”

Elena gasped. “And Sofia? His wife?” “For her, only a life insurance policy in her name. Nothing else regarding the real estate or accounts. It’s a firm and legal decision.”

Elena felt a chill. Her son hadn’t been a careless man. If he had excluded his wife from an inheritance that was supposed to belong to both of them, he had to have a reason… a very deep and painful one.

She decided to remain silent. Out of loyalty to Miguel’s memory, because of that maternal instinct that told her to wait. “Miguel would know why, and time will tell,” she thought, closing the envelope with the legal documents.

Two months and one week after Miguel’s death, Elena went downstairs to find a scene that took her breath away: Sofia, with a cheeky smile, was kissing a burly man in the living room.

—Ah, mother-in-law, how convenient— said Sofia, stepping aside without shame. —I’d like you to meet Ricardo, he’s my… partner.

Elena’s heart pounded, but she remained composed. “Sofia, it’s too soon…” “Too soon? Don’t be old-fashioned, Elena. Now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business.” Sofia crossed her arms and gestured dismissively toward the door. “Ricardo and I need space. This is our home now. Pack your bags and leave. You have no business being here.”

Elena felt overwhelmed by pain and betrayal. She understood everything in that instant: Sofia’s coldness, Miguel’s decision. Her son hadn’t wanted that woman to enjoy what he had built with his hard work, perhaps foreseeing how quickly he would be replaced.

Rage gave her a supernatural strength. “Your home?” Elena smiled with a coldness equal to Sofia’s. She took the documents from her pocket and dropped them onto the coffee table with a thud.

“I’m sorry to tell you, Sofia, but this isn’t your house. It never was after my son died.” “What are you talking about, old woman?” “Miguel didn’t leave you this house. He didn’t leave you the apartment in the city. He didn’t leave you anything but that insurance policy. All his properties are legally in my name.”

Sofia and Ricardo froze, their mouths agape.

“I kept it a secret because I believed my son had his reasons, and I see I was right.” Elena approached Sofia, her voice low and authoritative. “Now, you have twenty-four hours to remove your belongings from my property, from my house. If you don’t, I’ll have the lawyer evict you and file trespass charges.”

Elena picked up her phone and dialed. “Hello, Attorney Vargas. This is Elena. I want you to file the eviction request tomorrow. It’s time for my son to rest in peace and for justice to be served.”

Sofia’s face transformed from disbelief to panic. Ricardo, seeing the house he thought he would live in vanishing, had already retreated towards the door.

Elena sat on the sofa, the absolute mistress of the house and of the truth. Her son had entrusted her with his justice, and now, she granted it to him. She had kept silent out of love, and now she spoke for justice and for Miguel’s memory.