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.

“It has to look like an accident.”

A man answered her calmly.

“If we do it on the mountain road, nobody will investigate too deeply.”

Then her voice came again, cold and final.

“Pay whatever it costs. Once Julián dies, that woman loses everything.”

The church froze.

Even the people who hated scandal seemed unable to breathe.

Then two men beside Arturo stepped forward and revealed their police credentials.

“Teresa Robles de Mendoza,” one officer announced, “you are under arrest for aggravated homicide, fraud, criminal conspiracy, and embezzlement.”