The power of attorney I signed was contested.
The notary office had to answer for the lack of proper explanation.
My hidden account, the one Anthony left, allowed me to pay for lawyers, doctors, and repairs.
Transfers that Matthew made with doubtful authorizations were investigated.
Paula started her own process to fully regain custody of Lily.
Matthew said we all betrayed him.
His favorite phrase.
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As if the truth were betrayal when it stops serving him.
He tried to visit me crying.
I didn’t receive him.
He sent flowers.
I returned them.
He sent a pastor known to the family to talk about forgiveness.
I told him:
“To forgive is not to hand over the key to the house again.”
The pastor didn’t return.
Lily stayed a few weeks with me and Paula, until a judge ordered clear measures.
At night she would wake up and come to my bed.
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“Were you going to leave forever?”
“No, my love.”
“But he said that over there nobody was going to believe you.”
I stroked her hair.
“That is why you gave me the paper.”
“I was afraid.”
“Me too.”
“Did I do wrong?”
I hugged her tighter.
“You saved me.”
She cried in silence.
She was eight years old and already knew that adults could call a trap love.
That was what hurt me most.
Not the money.
Not the house.
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Not the papers.
The fact that my granddaughter had to become an alarm because the grown-ups were asleep.
Paula and I talked a lot in the kitchen.
