Ernesto, who drove a bus for 40 years, had also been a brilliant silent investor.
He had multiplied every peso we saved.
Then came the part that broke my heart:
“Don’t tell Marissa. You know our daughter.
If she finds out we have money, her love will change.
I want her to love us—not our assets.”
What irony.
Marissa had abandoned me believing I had nothing—when in reality, I had everything.
The next day, early in the morning, my phone rang.
Marissa again.
Her voice was sweet—too sweet.
“Ma, we deposited your share of the house and the car. It’s not much, but at least you can rent a small room while you… adjust.”
“My share?” I asked calmly.
“Yes, of course. We gave you 30%. That’s fair, right? We need the rest for our Europe investment. Carlo has an amazing business opportunity there.”
Thirty percent. Of my own property.
“How generous,” I whispered.
She continued, “We’re flying later. Don’t worry, Ma. When we get back, we’ll help you look for a cheap apartment.”
