Rosario crossed her arms.
—Besides, you already caused enough damage when you abandoned your children.
Something broke inside me.
My children.
I left them with my aunt in Pampanga so I could work in the United States.
Every dollar I sent was for them…
and for this house.
I took a deep breath.
—Just a few days, —I said quietly—. I’ll sleep on the floor.
My mother laughed.
—On the floor of my house?
She grabbed the bottle and pointed toward the road.
—Go to the church shelter.
The door began to close.
And at that moment, something happened that they did not expect.
A black car stopped in front of the house.
Then another.
And another.
Three elegant SUVs with Manila license plates.
Rosario frowned.
—What is that?
The doors opened.
Two men in suits stepped out.
Then a woman holding a folder.
Slowly, I raised my head.
—Ah… they’ve arrived.
My mother looked at me, confused.
—Who?
The man in the suit approached.
—Good afternoon, Mrs. Esperanza Morales.
I nodded.
—Yes.
Rosario and my mother looked at each other.
—Who are you? —my mother asked.
The man spoke professionally.
—I am Attorney Ricardo Ledesma, legal representative of Morales Holdings Philippines.
My mother frowned.
—Morales what?
The lawyer opened the folder.
—We are here to inspect the property located at Calle Rizal number 37, San Miguel, Bulacan.
Rosario laughed.
—Inspect what?
—This is our house.
The lawyer looked at the papers.
—Actually…
He raised his eyes toward me.
—This property legally belongs to Mrs. Esperanza Morales.
A heavy silence fell.
My mother blinked.
—What?
The lawyer continued.
—This house was purchased 23 years ago and all payments came from a bank account in California registered under the name of Mrs. Esperanza Morales.
Rosario began to panic.
—That doesn’t mean anything.
—Our mother lives here.
The lawyer answered calmly.
—Yes.
—As an authorized occupant.
—But the true owner is her.
He pointed at me.
