At my parents’ funeral, my husband coldly placed the divorce papers in my hand and said, “Sign them. You have no one left to protect you.” Then he took my daughter and disappeared with a wealthy woman. Four years later, when I had become a millionaire, a call came in… and my daughter whispered, “Mom…”

Then Alejandro—my husband—arrived.

He was dressed in black, but he didn’t look like someone grieving. He looked like someone late for a meeting. He walked toward me without a hug, without a single kind glance, and placed a thick envelope into my hands.

“What is this?” I asked, even though my heart already knew.

“The divorce papers,” he said. “Sign them.”

I stared at him as if he were a stranger.

“Today? At my parents’ funeral?”

He gave a short, dry laugh.

“Your parents left debts, Mariana. The house, the loans… all of that is now yours. I’m not going down with you.”

The world tilted.