Chapter 6
Without access to our shared resources, Adrian could no longer maintain the apartment and spending habits he'd promised her.
Vanessa moved into Lilibeth and Ernesto's house.
The same house that was supposedly too small.
Within two weeks, Lilibeth called me.
I didn't answer.
She sent a message.
Maria, can we talk? Things have become very difficult here.
I ignored it.
The next day, another message arrived.
Vanessa doesn't know how to manage a household. She sleeps until noon, orders food every day, and argues with Adrian constantly.
I stared at my phone.
For years, Lilibeth had complained that I wasn't home enough to cook.
Now she had a daughter-in-law candidate who was home all day, and apparently that wasn't satisfactory either.
Then came the message that nearly made me laugh.
I realize now how much you did for our family.
I read it twice.
Then I replied:
I'm glad you've realized that. I hope you remember it when you speak to your next daughter-in-law.
She immediately called.
I declined.
The financial investigation took longer.
My lawyer helped me document the transfers Adrian had made from our joint savings and pursue an appropriate accounting and settlement.
I didn't expect to recover every peso.
Some of it had already been spent.
But I refused to pretend the missing money didn't exist.
Adrian initially denied wrongdoing.
Then he claimed the transfers were ordinary household expenses.
That explanation collapsed when the transaction history showed repeated payments to a property manager, jewelry stores, and resorts I'd never visited.
His lawyer eventually recommended settling the disputed financial claims rather than prolonging the fight.
We reached an agreement under which Adrian would repay a substantial portion of the money through scheduled payments, without giving him ownership of my mother's house.
The separate legal proceedings concerning our marriage continued according to the applicable law.
I stopped communicating with him directly unless absolutely necessary.
Everything important went through our lawyers.
That boundary drove him crazy.
One evening, he appeared at the gate.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His eyes were red.
“Maria, please,” he said through the intercom. “Just five minutes.”
I considered refusing.
Then I stepped onto the porch, keeping the gate closed.
“What do you need?”
He looked at the house behind me.
“I miss this place.”
I said nothing.
“I miss coming home to you.”
Still nothing.
He swallowed.
“I made a terrible mistake.”