At my wife’s funeral, my daughter
PART 2
“Daniel,” Tomás read, “if you are hearing this, it means I am no longer here to protect you from what you refused to see.”
Daniel lifted his head sharply.
Vanessa stopped tapping her foot.
The room felt heavier.
Elena’s letter explained that over the past year, things had gone missing—cash, jewelry, checks, suspicious transactions. At first, she doubted herself. Then she blamed medication. But eventually, she realized the truth.
Daniel’s breathing quickened.
“What is this?” he whispered.
Vanessa laughed nervously. “This is ridiculous. Your mother wasn’t well—”
“I’m not finished,” Tomás interrupted.
Elena had hired a private investigator.
Not out of revenge—but because she needed to know whether the threat came from outside… or from within her own home.
Tomás revealed the evidence:
Pawn shop receipts.
Security photos.
Fraudulent credit applications.
Recorded conversations of Vanessa pressuring Elena to sign documents while sedated.
Daniel stared at a photo of Vanessa selling jewelry.
“No…” he whispered.
Vanessa stood abruptly. “That proves nothing. I was helping. That house was going to be ours too.”
“It never was,” Tomás replied.
Then he read the final will.
Elena had placed everything in a trust. I could live in the house for life. Daniel would receive benefits—but only for specific purposes. And if he remained married to Vanessa, all payments would be frozen unless a judge confirmed she had no access.
Vanessa looked confused.
Tomás added, “If anyone contests the will without cause, they receive one peso.”
For the first time, Vanessa looked afraid.
Daniel looked at her like he didn’t recognize her.
“Did you do it?” he asked.
She cried. “I was protecting us.”
“You called my mother’s funeral a holiday,” he said. “Was that part of your plan too?”
She tried to touch him.
He pulled away.
The chair crashed as she stepped back.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Keep your grieving family and your precious money.”
And she left.
Daniel didn’t follow.
He sat there, holding Elena’s letter, lost.
But it wasn’t over.
Tomás placed a small silver key on the table.
“There’s one more instruction,” he said.
