Over the next two hours, we built a plan.
I changed all my passwords—banking, email, digital signatures, everything. I enabled two-factor authentication and logged out of all devices. My hands trembled at first, then steadied.
Gabriel recorded a video of me stating my name, the date, what I had overheard, and that I did not authorize any legal or financial documents without independent legal review. Then he recorded his own testimony.
“If they try to twist things tomorrow,” he said, “they won’t erase this.”
At 5:25 a.m., I texted my brother Rodrigo:
“Emergency. I’m safe for now. Be here at 8:30. Bring your lawyer friend. Don’t call.”
He replied:
“On my way.”
Before sunrise, Gabriel returned with a small recorder.
—Today, it records lies.
By seven, I was dressed simply—jeans, sweater, hair tied back. On the outside, I looked exhausted. Inside, I was ready.
At breakfast, Teresa smiled warmly, serving food like nothing was wrong.
“Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”
—Like a rock, I said.
Julián kissed my cheek, making my stomach turn.
