That last clause had Elena written all over it.
Hernán read it aloud to you in his office while sunlight slid across framed certificates and the old ceiling fan hummed like a witness. He wore his usual expression, half courtroom, half undertaker, the face of a man who had spent decades watching families smile at funerals and then devour each other in parking lots.
“If they try to force transfer, remove, confine, or materially pressure you off the property,” he said, tapping the page, “Rodrigo loses primary control eligibility for a minimum of ten years. Management passes to the board under the trust. He gets an allowance. Nothing more.”
You leaned back slowly.
Allowance.
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