And I believed him. Completely.
The wedding was simple but beautiful—white flowers, soft music, and a small gathering in a quiet chapel. I wanted to go straight to our apartment afterward and begin our life together, but his mother, Teresa, insisted that tradition required we spend the first night at her home in Tlaquepaque for the family’s blessing.
It felt strange, but Julián squeezed my hand.
—Just one night, love. It’ll make my mom feel at ease.
So I agreed.
In the early hours of the morning, I woke up thirsty. The house was silent, except for faint voices drifting from the kitchen. I walked downstairs slowly, barefoot, thinking Teresa might be awake.
But as I reached the stairs, I heard Julián clearly:
—He’s already fallen for it… tomorrow he’ll sign, and his father’s house will be ours.
My breath caught.
Then Teresa’s voice followed—soft, sweet, and poisonous:
—Don’t let her think too much. Start with the power of attorney, then the joint account. If she hesitates, say it’s just paperwork for the marriage and taxes.
I gripped the railing so tightly my fingers hurt.
“What if she wants to call her brother?” Julián asked.
“You won’t let her. And especially don’t let her talk to Gabriel,” Teresa replied. “That boy notices too much.”
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