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.

Chapter 2: The Dead Man’s Evidence

Arturo moved with the calm of a man who had not arrived late by accident.

Behind him came two assistants carrying black briefcases and a portable screen.

The guards stopped immediately.

Doña Teresa’s face tightened.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Arturo did not look at her.

“By direct instruction of Mr. Julián Mendoza,” he said, his voice echoing through the church, “no burial will proceed until this video is shown.”

For a moment, Doña Teresa smiled. She clearly expected some sentimental farewell, something she could use to perform grief in front of Mexico’s elite.