Her eyes flick down.
This page is smaller, but it hits harder.
A summary from your attorney.
The moment she refuses to leave, she becomes what the law calls an unauthorized occupant.
Patricia’s mouth opens, and nothing comes out at first.
You can practically see the gears grinding behind her eyes.
She’s always controlled rooms with volume, tears, and social pressure.
But now she’s facing something she can’t outtalk.
Lucía finally speaks, voice trembling but clear.
“Mamá,” she says.
And the single word slices the room in half.
Patricia turns, expecting rescue.
Lucía’s hands shake on the edge of the chair.
Her eyes are glossy, exhausted, and you can tell she’s been carrying a silent war for months.
“I asked you to stay for two weeks,” Lucía says.
“It’s been five months.”
Patricia’s face tightens like she’s bitten something sour.
Patricia laughs again, louder, desperate.
“Five months is nothing,” she snaps.
“I sacrificed everything for you.”
She points at Lucía like she’s pointing at a receipt. “You owe me respect.”
