My husband had been in his coffin only a few hours when my mother-in-law demanded our house keys. “Pack your bags, incubator,” she sneered, tossing a f3ke paternity test onto the coffin. “My son’s millions belong to his real family.” My husband’s lawyer entered with a projector. Then my husband’s face appeared on screen, and his first sentence made my mother-in-law collapse.

She had not only hated me.

She had not only tried to erase my child.

She had stolen from sick children while wearing pearls and speaking of family honor.

“My son was mentally unstable!” she cried, desperate now. “He was grieving! He was paranoid!”

But the dead cannot be interrupted.

Julián answered from the screen with chilling calm.

“No. I simply realized too late how dangerous my own family had become.”

Fernanda stepped backward, shaking her head.

“I didn’t know he had all this,” she whispered.

Arturo turned his eyes toward her.

“He had more.”

The screen changed again.