The divorce agreement was already there. His attorney had apparently been working on it for weeks.
According to the documents, I would give up most claims to marital assets, agree not to discuss anything related to Duarte Holdings, and receive enough money to cover maybe six months of rent.
I turned through the pages carefully. “Ten years,” I said. “That’s what ten years with you is worth?”
Mateo exhaled. “Don’t make this difficult.” I looked up. “I raised your children.”
“You lived comfortably.” That was his response. Carlota sat across from me as though she had been anticipating this moment for years.
“This family gave you a name, a home, and a lifestyle,” she said. “Leave with some dignity.”
Then Mateo said something I will never forget. “You can take one of the boys.”
I thought I’d heard him wrong. “What?” “Mauricio stays. He’s the oldest.”
He spoke as though he were dividing possessions. “But you can choose Teodoro or Rafael.
A divorced woman shouldn’t be alone when she gets older.” My stomach tightened.
Behind the curtains beside the hallway, I noticed a pair of tiny pink socks.
Daniela was hiding there. Clutching her stuffed rabbit against her chest.
Listening to everything. Her eyes were watery. “Mommy?” I stood immediately.
She came running toward me. “Are we leaving?” I took her hand. “Yes, baby.”
Carlota smiled. Apparently she thought I had finally accepted my place.
“So which boy are you taking?” I looked at Teodoro. I had spent countless nights beside his bed during asthma episodes.
I looked at Rafael. For almost two years, he wouldn’t fall asleep unless I rocked him.
Mauricio had called me Mom since he was small. I had packed their lunches.
Attended parent-teacher meetings. Changed messy sheets. Comforted scraped knees.
Celebrated birthdays. Loved them even when loving them demanded pieces of myself.
And what I said next hurt more than I anticipated. “None.” Mateo immediately rose to his feet.
