Chapter 2
Under the parking-garage light, I opened the deed again.
There was one owner listed.
Me.
My parents had left me the apartment before I ever met Andrés, and our marriage had been under a separate-property arrangement.
His mother had spent almost 3 years calling it her son’s home.
Diego had taken over my office.
Andrés had let them treat my paycheck like household income and my apartment like family property.
But their names were nowhere on that deed.
Not one.
Paola stayed on the phone while I explained only what she needed to know.
“I want it sold.”
Then I remembered my father’s wooden console sitting outside in the rain because Teresa had decided it was in her way.
That ended whatever doubt I had left.
May you like
Paola asked me to send her the property information.
I looked at Andrés’s name lighting up my phone with an incoming call, declined it, and moved the deed closer to my laptop.
