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Fabian’s face went hard.
Then he looked at Ines.
“You did this?”
Ines did not answer.
“You called the police on your own son?”
One officer reached for his arm.
Fabian yanked back. “Don’t touch me. This is my property.”
Ines finally spoke. “No. It is family property under trust. And you are not above the law on any acre of it.”
His eyes widened. “You came back after eight years to destroy me?”
“No,” Ines said. “I came back and found what you had already destroyed.”
Fabian’s breathing changed. His eyes moved past the officers, toward the old chicken coop behind the house. Even in the dark, the shame of it stood there. Rusted wire. Broken boards. A dirt floor. The place where Ines had found Bianca sitting among feathers and rotting feed, eating dry corn with cracked fingers.
Fabian saw where his mother was looking.
His mouth twisted. “She lied to you.”
The words came so easily that Ines felt sick.
“She has medical reports,” Ines said.
“She does that to herself.”
“She has two broken ribs that healed wrong.”
“She falls.”
“She was dehydrated.”
“She refuses food when she’s upset.”
“She was eating raw corn in a chicken coop.”
Fabian’s face flushed with anger. “Because she’s insane!”
The officers moved in then. Fabian struggled just enough to make it uglier. He shouted that Bianca was unstable, that his mother had always favored weak people, that the ranch was his, that everyone would regret this. When they cuffed him, he looked at Ines with hatred so naked it almost knocked her back.
“You’re dead to me,” he said.