I was sitting in the doctor's waiting room when my phone rang. It was Angela, my only daughter. Her voice sounded strange, almost cold, when she said, "Mom, we're going to Europe tomorrow. I already sold your beach house and your car."

I watched her unpack in her old room, the same one where she had slept during her teenage years, and I could see the humiliation in her every move. She had gone from living in a luxurious apartment to holing up in the room of her youth. “Mom, I found this in the apartment,” she said, showing me an envelope. It was among Eduardo’s things. It has your name on it. It was another envelope from Roberto.
My heart raced, but I kept my composure. My name. How strange. “Yes, look,” she showed me the envelope. Sure enough, it had my name written in Roberto’s handwriting, but this envelope was different from the one I had found in my dresser. This one was smaller, newer. “Maybe Eduardo found it among Dad’s things when he died and forgot to give it to me,” Angela said. “
It’s possible. I can see it.” I opened the envelope in her presence. Inside was a short letter and a small key. The letter read, “Antonia, if you are reading this after I gave you the main envelope, it means our daughter is going through a difficult time.”This key opens a safety deposit box at the Central Bank, downtown branch. The number is 247. There's something in there that can help you help her, but use it wisely with eternal love. Roberto. Angela read the letter over my shoulder. A safety deposit box. Dad had a safety deposit box. I had no idea. I lied. Your father never told me about this.
Do you think we should go see what's in it? I don't know, honey. Maybe it's best to leave things as they are. But Mom, maybe there's something important in there. Documents or I don't know, maybe something of value that could help us. The desperation in her voice was palpable. Angela was clinging to any possibility of finding a way out of her situation, and I was going to let her cling on a little longer before showing her the full truth

Okay, I said after a calculated pause. We can go tomorrow. That night, Angela and I had dinner together for the first time in months. She had cooked, trying to be helpful, but the food tasted of guilt and despair. She told me more details about what had happened in Europe, and each story was worse than the last.
Eduardo lied to me, about everything, Mom, not just about the business, but about the debts too. I thought he only owed a little money, but it turns out he owes more than 100,000 pesos. And the worst part is that he used my name for some loans without me knowing. How is that even possible? He forged my signature. When I married him, I gave him some documents to handle the banking for our joint account.
I never thought he would use them for this. Do you have any way to prove you didn't know? I don't know. It's all so complicated. The banks say that since we were married, I'm responsible for all his debts anyway. And the divorce. I don't even know where Eduardo is now. He's completely disappeared. Her phone is off. She's not answering emails. Nothing. It's like she's vanished.
Perfect. Eduardo had run away like the rat he'd always been, leaving Ángela to face the consequences of his actions alone. In a way, he'd done me a favor. Now, my daughter was experiencing exactly what I'd felt when he abandoned me.

The betrayal of someone I had trusted completely. I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't know things were so bad. Neither did I, Mom. I thought Eduardo loved me, that we were going to build something together, but it turns out I was just an easy way to get money and papers. Angela started crying again.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I not have realized what he really was? It was tempting to tell her that I had seen the signs from the beginning, that I had tried to warn her that Eduardo had never seemed trustworthy to me, but that would have shattered my facade of a compassionate, vulnerable mother. Love isn't blind sometimes. Honey, don't blame yourself.
But Mom, I didn't just ruin my life, I ruined yours too. I treated you horribly. I took your house, your car, your things, everything, to give it to a man who abandoned me at the first opportunity. It's over, Angela. No, it's not over. Now we're both in trouble because of me

You lost everything Dad left you, and I lost my marriage and my future. We're two poor women trying to survive. If she only knew, I thought, if she only knew that right now I have more money than she can imagine, that I own the building where I lived, that I could solve all her problems with a phone call, but it wasn't the right time yet. The next day we went to the bank.
Angela was nervous, hopeful. I kept up my act of a confused widow who didn't understand much about finance. The bank clerk led us to the safety deposit boxes, checked my ID, and opened box number 247. Inside were jewels, lots of jewels: rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings. Some pieces I recognized as inheritances from Roberto's family. Others were completely new to me

There was also a letter explaining the origin of each piece and its approximate value. Angela gasped. “Mom, this must be worth a fortune.” “Do you think so?” “Yes. Look at this emerald and this pearl necklace.” “Mom, Dad hid a treasure here.” According to Roberto’s letter, the jewelry was worth approximately 200,000 pesos.
It was a significant amount, but nothing compared to the rest of my inheritance. It was like finding coins under the sofa when you have a million pesos in the bank. “What do we do with this, Mom?” “I don’t know, honey. They’re family heirlooms.” “But Mom, we could sell some pieces. With this money, you could get your beach house back, and I could pay off some of Eduardo’s debts.” There it was again.
Even when she found something valuable, Angela’s first reaction was to think about how to use it to solve the problems Eduardo had created. She hadn’t learned anything yet. “Are you sure you want to use your father’s inheritance to pay off Eduardo’s debts?” “What other choice do I have, Mom?” If I don't pay something, the banks are going to seize everything I own. And technically, I don't own anything.
Everything was in Eduardo's name. Think about it carefully, honey. Once you sell these jewels, you won't be able to get them back. I know, but what else can I do? I can't get a job with all these pending lawsuits. No employer is going to want to hire someone with so many legal problems. We took the jewels home.
Angela spread them out on the kitchen table and examined them one by one, calculating which ones she could sell and which ones she could keep. It was painful to see her reducing her father's memories to numbers on a piece of paper. Mom, I think this will solve the most urgent problems.
Not all of them, but at least the most serious ones. And then what? Then I'll look for a job, try to rebuild my life, maybe I can find a small room to rent, something cheap. You don't have to leave, honey. You can stay here as long as you need. No, Mom, I've already taken advantage of your kindness too much. Besides, you need money too. You can't support me indefinitely.
It was fascinating to see how Angela had constructed a completely false image of my financial situation. To her, I was a poor widow who could barely support herself when in reality I had enough resources to buy the entire building where we had found the jewels. That afternoon Jorge called me.

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