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“On the disclosure of documents Mr. Varela left behind. Including letters addressed to both of you.”
Claudia’s confidence wavered.
Julián reached into the folder and removed two envelopes.
One had my name on it.
The other had hers.
Her hand hesitated when she took it. For the first time since I’d entered the room, she looked uncertain.
“What is this supposed to mean?” she whispered.
I turned toward her slowly.
“It means,” I said, meeting her gaze, “there’s something you don’t know.”
The smile finally slipped.
Claudia opened it with trembling fingers.
As she scanned the page, the color drained from her face. Her breathing became shallow. I knew exactly what she was reading because I had read my own version the night before.
My father had planned everything.
The letter began politely, almost kindly. Then it shifted.
It outlined her departure.
Her absence.
The years without financial or emotional support.
My father had begun legal proceedings after she left. Custody removal. Parental abandonment. The process was never finalized due to delays, but the intent was documented in detail.
“This is a lie,” she stammered. “He forced me out.”
Her head snapped up.
“You don’t know what was happening between us,” she hissed.
“No,” I replied. “But I know what happened to me. Nothing. No calls. No messages. And now you’re here to collect.”
She tore the letter in half.
Julián didn’t react.
“There are copies,” he said calmly.
Claudia stood abruptly.
“This is a setup!” she shouted.
Julián remained unbothered.
“Mr. Varela also specified that the entire estate passes exclusively to his son, Marcus Varela,” he continued. “With one final condition.”
My heart skipped.
“What condition?” Claudia demanded.
“That you listen to a recording.”
I looked up sharply. This was new to me.
Julián reached for a small device and pressed play.
My father’s voice filled the room.
Steady. Warm. Familiar.
“Claudia,” he said, “if you’re hearing this, it’s because you believe you’re entitled to something you abandoned long ago. You didn’t leave money behind. You left a child.”
Claudia covered her mouth.
“You left for someone else,” my father continued. “I learned that later. I don’t judge you. But I don’t reward you either.”
The recording ended.
The silence afterward felt heavy, almost unbearable.
Claudia collapsed back into her chair. For the first time, she looked small. Stripped of confidence. Stripped of control.
“Marcus…” she began, her voice breaking.
I took a slow breath.
“I didn’t come here for revenge,” I said. “I came to close this chapter.”
Tears filled her eyes. Real or not, I couldn’t tell.
“I can help you find legal advice,” I added. “But the inheritance is mine. That was Dad’s decision.”
She lowered her head, hands shaking.
For the first time in fifteen years, I saw her as something other than absence.
I saw her as human.
And I knew, even then, that this meeting was only the beginning of a much harder truth.
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