Chapter 1: The Chair My Wife Pulled Away
The chair crashed beneath my mother before I understood what had happened.
One second, Elena was lowering herself carefully toward the dining chair. The next, the chair shot backward, and my seventy-year-old mother struck the hardwood floor in front of fourteen relatives.
The sound was horrible.
But the silence afterward was worse.
“Mom!”” I shouted.
I dropped my fork and rushed toward her. A glass tipped over. Someone gasped. My younger sister, Isabel, pushed away from the table so quickly that her chair nearly overturned.
My mother was sitting on the floor, one hand gripping her hip, her silver hair scattered across her face.
And my wife, Sofia, stood beside the empty space where the chair had been.
She wasn't helping.
She wasn't even moving.
“She lost her balance,” Sofia announced.
I looked at her.
I had seen the chair move.
I had seen her hand on its back.
And I had seen the small, deliberate movement of her arm just before my mother fell.
“Help me get her up,” I said.
Sofia sighed.
“Mateo, please don't make this dramatic. She's always been unsteady.””
My sister Isabel stared at her.
“She's seventy, Sofia. She just fell on the floor!””
“I know how old she is,” Sofia snapped.
“You don't need to remind me.””
I knelt beside my mother.
“Mom, can you move your legs?””
“I think so, sweetheart.””
“Does your hip hurt?””
“A little.””
“Don't try to stand yet.””
My mother nodded, embarrassed.
That was the part that made my stomach twist.
She wasn't angry.
She was embarrassed.
She kept looking at the relatives around the table as though she had done something wrong by falling.
“I ruined dinner,” she whispered.
I shook my head.
“You didn't ruin anything.””
Sofia folded her arms.
“Actually, dinner was already becoming difficult.””
I slowly turned toward her.
“What does that mean?””
She glanced at the table.
“It means I spent three hours arranging everything, and your mother keeps changing things. She moved the flowers, rearranged the plates, and insisted on sitting next to Leo.””
My mother looked down.
“I only wanted to sit beside my grandson.””
“Exactly,” Sofia replied.
“You always want everything your way.””
I felt something cold settle inside me.
My mother had spent the entire morning preparing this dinner.
She had baked fresh bread because my seven-year-old son, Leo, loved it. She had made roasted chicken, prepared three side dishes, and brought a little wrapped present for Sofia because our anniversary was coming up.
She had even called me that morning to ask whether Sofia preferred white or yellow flowers.
And now she was sitting on the floor while my wife complained about flowers.
“Mom, can you tell me what happened?”” I asked gently.
My mother glanced toward Sofia.
“I was sitting down, Mateo. I felt the chair move.””
“Did you lose your balance?””
She hesitated.
“I don't think so.””
Sofia let out an irritated breath.
“Oh, come on.””
Before I could respond, a small voice came from the hallway.
“You pulled it.””
Everyone turned.
Leo stood near the doorway, holding his little blue toy car.
His cheeks were pale.
Sofia's expression immediately changed.
“Leo, go play in your room.””
He didn't move.
“You pulled Grandma's chair,” he repeated.
“That's enough,” Sofia said.
“I saw you.””
“Leo.””
“You did it when she was sitting down.””
Sofia walked toward him.
“Children shouldn't interrupt adult conversations.””
Leo stepped backward, but he didn't leave.
I stood up slowly.
“Don't speak to him like that.””
Sofia looked at me in disbelief.
“Are you seriously taking his side?””
“I'm asking you to explain what happened.””
“I already explained it. Your mother fell.””
“Then why is Leo saying you pulled the chair?””
“Because he's seven! He doesn't understand what he saw.””
Leo's little fingers tightened around his toy car.
“I understand.””
My mother reached for his hand.
“It's okay, sweetheart.””
“No, Grandma,” he whispered.
“It isn't.””
I helped my mother onto the living room sofa. Isabel brought her a cushion and a glass of water.
Sofia remained standing beside the dining table.
Then she said something that made every person in the room stop.
“This is exactly why she needs to leave.””
I turned around.
“What?””
“Your mother needs to stop living here.””
My mother looked up.
The house had belonged to my late father. After he died, I had encouraged Mom to stay because the house was too big for her to manage alone, and because I wanted Leo to grow up knowing his grandmother.
Sofia had agreed at the time.
Now she looked directly at my mother.
“She has overstayed her welcome.””
“She's my mother,” I replied.
“And I'm your wife.””
“That doesn't give you the right to humiliate her.””
Sofia laughed bitterly.
“Humiliate her? Mateo, you have no idea how difficult she's made my life.””
My mother lowered her eyes.
I was about to answer when something slid from Sofia's coat pocket.
A thick envelope landed on the hardwood floor.
Several papers slipped halfway out.
Sofia noticed immediately.
Her face changed.
“Don't touch that.””
But I was already bending down.
The first page carried the address of our house.
The second contained my father's full legal name.
And at the top of the third page were four words that made my fingers go numb.
*TRANSFER OF PROPERTY OWNERSHIP.*
I looked at the signature section.
My mother's name appeared beneath the words PROPERTY OWNER.
But the signature didn't look right.
“Why do you have these?”” I asked.
Sofia rushed toward me.
“Give them back.””
I stepped away.
“What are you trying to do?””
“Those are private documents.””
“Private documents about my mother's house?””
My mother slowly stood from the sofa.
“Mateo?””
I looked at her.
“Mom, did you sign anything?””
She shook her head.
“No.””
Sofia's jaw tightened.
“Your mother is confused.””
“No,” Mom whispered.
“I know exactly what I signed, and it wasn't that.””
I looked down again.
There was a notary stamp.
A date.
And a signature that appeared to be my mother's.
Then Leo spoke from behind me.
“Dad?””
I turned.
He was staring at his mother.
“Mom told Grandma that if she didn't sign the papers, something bad would happen to you.””
Sofia went completely still.
I felt the room tilt around me.
“What did you just say?””
Leo swallowed.
“She told Grandma you would lose your job, and then we'd all have to leave.””
I looked at my wife.
For the first time in seven years of marriage, I didn't recognize the woman standing in front of me.
And then my sister Isabel picked up the second page.
“Mateo,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
She pointed to a paragraph near the bottom.
The property wasn't being transferred to Sofia.
It was being transferred to a company.
May you like
A company whose name I had never heard before.
*And Sofia was listed as its sole authorized representative.*
