Diego took it as if it had always been his.

Then he reached into my bag.

“The keys,” he added.

I had them all: the front door, the garage, the office.

“This is a mistake,” I managed to say.

Ramírez avoided my eyes.

“Mrs. Mariana, your son is the sole heir according to this document,” he replied mechanically.

Several people lowered their gaze.

I felt shame. Anger. And a sorrow so deep it made me dizzy.

I didn’t shout.

I understood that, right there, in front of everyone… he wanted to humiliate me.

So I turned and walked toward the cemetery exit.

Behind me, I heard murmurs.

Phrases like “poor woman” and “how awful” followed me.

But none of them honte stupi mattered.

Because as I passed Diego, I paused for a moment.

I adjusted his coat as if fixing something.

And slipped the small device deeper into his pocket.

He didn’t notice.

But I did.

The faint click.

As I stepped outside the cemetery gates, my phone vibrated.