A year after the divorce, I was called back to witness the reading of the family’s will. They laughed when I entered the room, thinking I was just a replaced past… until the will was read and everyone was shocked.

Then he added something that made the air feel heavier.

“But you will.”

Silence stretched uncomfortably.

And then I felt it.

Their presence behind me.

Familiar. Irritating. Unwelcome.

Diego.
Camila.
Doña Teresa.

Diego—my ex-husband.
Camila—his former assistant… now his partner.
Doña Teresa—his mother, a woman who could turn sweetness into venom.

Diego broke the silence first.
“Lucía,” he said impatiently, “sit down so we can get this over with.”

“I’m fine standing,” I replied coldly.

Doña Teresa clicked her tongue.

“You’re still as dramatic as ever.”

I slowly turned to face them.

Diego looked exactly the same.

Tailored suit. Perfect posture. That polished smile I once believed in.