The thought of sleeping with that fat pig makes me sick. Just minutes before the wedding, I overheard my son-in-law confess it to his friend. They all laughed. My daughter had no idea about her husband’s true colors. I gave a slight smile and began preparing the trap that would leave him with nothing.

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The sound of the organ at St. Francis Church in our small Midwestern town resonated, both sweet and urgent, filling my ears like a melody blending with the lively conversations of the guests. Today was the big day for my daughter Emily, the little girl I had dedicated my entire life to loving and protecting. I was standing among some close relatives, smiling in response to their congratulations. After a moment, I excused myself to walk toward the back hallway of the church, looking for a bit of fresh air before the ceremony began.

The hallway was quiet. The only sound was my soft footsteps on the cold stone floor. I took a deep breath, feeling the light breeze that carried the smell of dry grass from the nearby fields. But as I passed the groom’s preparation room, a loud, vulgar laugh made me stop. The door was slightly ajar, and the voice of Ben, my future son-in-law, sounded clear, arrogant, and mocking. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but my feet felt glued to the floor. An icy premonition shot through me like cold water running down my spine. I pressed myself against the door, my heart pounding.

Ben’s voice lowered, but every word he spat out was like a knife. “Just thinking about tonight, having to sleep with that fat pig already makes me sick.”

An obscene, satisfied laugh erupted from the men inside the room. I felt my blood run cold. Fat pig. He was talking about Emily, my daughter, who I always thought was as beautiful as an angel with her radiant smile and warm heart. My chest tightened as if someone was squeezing my heart. Another man with a smooth mocking voice clapped Ben on the shoulder.

“Come on, at least you’re getting the mother-in-law’s huge fortune,” he said.

Ben’s cold, cruel laughter echoed. “Of course, I’ll put up with it for the money. If it weren’t for the Chestnut Grove estate, do you think I’d even look at her?”

Every word was like a poisoned needle piercing my heart. The Chestnut Grove estate, the legacy my parents and I had cared for with sweat and a lifetime of work, was now just a commodity to him. He wasn’t marrying my daughter for love, but for greed—greed for those fertile lands and the numbers in the bank account. Another man chimed in with a malicious tone.

“On the wedding night, you’ll probably have to down a bottle of whiskey to get the job done right.”

The clinking of glasses mixed with their brutal laughter, as if the whole world was a sick joke. I clutched the rosewood rosary beads in my hands, those cold, smooth beads I had passed through my fingers thousands of times in prayer. But this time, they couldn’t calm the fury growing inside me. I wanted to burst and scream in his face, rip off the hypocritical mask he had used to deceive my entire family.

But my feet were made of stone, and reason told me to stay calm, at least for Emily’s sake. I turned my steps, faltering, almost bumping into a guest coming my way. She looked at me with curious, scrutinizing eyes, seeing my face as pale as a sheet.

“Mrs. Audrey, are you all right?” she asked, her voice full of concern that didn’t hide her curiosity.

I forced a smile and shook my head. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little tired.” I walked quickly to the bride’s room, trying to control the trembling that ran through my body. Each step felt like walking on a thin wire about to snap at any moment.

When I pushed the door open and entered the bride’s room, a scene of calm appeared before my eyes. A stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. Emily, my beloved daughter, was sitting in front of the mirror, her white wedding dress fitting her body perfectly, making her look like an angel. The light from the window illuminated her black hair, making it shine like stars. The makeup artist was carefully applying blush to her cheeks while Laura, Emily’s best friend, gently blotted the sweat from her forehead with a tissue.

Looking at Emily, I saw myself 30 years ago on my wedding day with my late husband. But now, the joy of that day had been replaced by an indescribable pain. I sank into an armchair, trying to breathe deeply to regain my composure. But my hands were still shaking, my fingers intertwined, as if trying to hold on to something they couldn’t grasp.

Watching Emily smile and talk with Laura broke my heart. She didn’t know that the man she was about to marry had called her such cruel things. She didn’t know that he didn’t love her, that it was all a planned charade to get his hands on my family’s inheritance. I wanted to run and hug her, tell her everything, protect her from the person who had used her pure love to take advantage of her. But I was also afraid. Afraid that if I spoke, Emily wouldn’t believe me. She loved Ben. She loved him with all her innocent heart. I had seen the sparkle in her eyes every time she mentioned him. I had seen how she laughed with excitement when she got a message from him.

How could I shatter her dream on the most important day of her life? But how could I remain silent when I had heard those cruel words with my own ears? The only thought that stuck in my mind was a firm command, like an oath. I must protect my daughter no matter the cost.

I took a deep breath, trying to contain the trembling in my chest, and then looked at the makeup artist and bridesmaid surrounding Emily. “Could you all step out for a moment, please?” My voice tried to sound serene, though inside I was a raging sea. “I have something private to discuss with Emily.”

They looked at me in surprise, but then nodded silently and left. The door closed, leaving a heavy silence in the room. Only Emily, my dear daughter, Laura, the friend she had always considered a sister, and I remained. I approached Emily, my trembling hands touching her white silk gloves. Her clear eyes looked at me with trust and innocence, as if she still saw the mother she always turned to for comfort. But today, I knew I was about to break her heart.

I squeezed Emily’s hand tightly, feeling the softness of her skin through the silk. “Emily, listen to me,” I began, my voice trembling but trying to sound firm. “I just heard something, something I can’t keep to myself. Ben, the man you’re about to marry, said horrible things about you.”

A lump formed in my throat, but I forced myself to continue. “He called you… He called you a fat pig, Emily. He said he’s only marrying you for the Chestnut Grove estate, for the money. He doesn’t love you.”

Emily’s eyes widened. The light in them instantly extinguished. Her lips trembled, and her fingers tightened in my hand as if clinging to the hope that I was mistaken. That can’t be.

Emily shook her head, her voice weak, almost a whisper. “Mom, you must have misheard. He’s not like that. He loves me, Mom. He always tells me I’m beautiful. He’s always there for me whenever I feel insecure about myself.”

Emily’s words were like knives stabbing my heart. I looked at her and clearly saw the naivety and blind faith in her eyes. I remembered the days when Emily was little, when she would run to me crying because her classmates made fun of her weight. I would hold her tight, whispering that she was beautiful in her own way, that her heart was the most valuable thing. And now, my daughter was trusting a man who had lied, who had used her insecurity to manipulate her.

“I’m not mistaken, Emily,” I said in a harsh voice, holding back the rage that burned inside me. “I heard it with my own ears with his friends. He was mocking you, laughing at you as if you were just a commodity he could trade for money.”

Emily burst into tears. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, smudging the makeup the artist had so carefully applied. She shook her head forcefully, her hair adorned with flowers swaying with each sob. “No, Mom, you don’t understand. He’s helped me so much. I’ve always been insecure about my appearance, you know that, but Ben, he makes me feel worthy. He says he loves me for who I really am.”

Emily’s voice broke as if she were trying to convince herself more than me. I drowned in my own pain, my heart squeezed tight. I wanted to hug her to dry her tears, but I knew that in that moment, only the truth could save her.

“Honey, I know you love him,” I said, softening my tone, but remaining firm. “But a man who truly loves you would never call you that. He doesn’t deserve you, Emily. You can’t give your life to someone like that.”

Before I could continue, Laura, who had been silent until then, spoke up. Her tone was soft but sharp as a knife hidden under velvet. “Aunt Audrey, I think there’s a misunderstanding here,” Laura said, stepping closer to place a hand on Emily’s shoulder as if to protect her from me. “I’ve been by Emily’s side this whole time, and I’ve seen that Ben truly loves her. He always takes care of her. He’s always there for her. If you call off this wedding now, you’ll destroy Emily’s life. Do you want her to carry that shame forever?”

I froze as if I’d been slapped. Her words were an invisible wall pushing me away from my daughter. I could only nod, press my lips together, and return to my seat, my heart as heavy as lead.

Just a few days after the wedding, when the glow of the celebration had faded, a cruel rumor began to spread throughout our town. I first heard it at the local market, where I always bought vegetables and spices. The homemaker’s women I had seen for years started whispering behind my back when I passed.

“That Mrs. Chestnut is so difficult,” one said loud enough for me to hear. “With so many demands, no wonder she scared off all her daughter’s suitors.”

Another laughed dismissively. “They say she even made things up to ruin her own daughter’s wedding just because she didn’t want to lose her.”

I stopped by a stall of dried chilies, gripping the handle of my basket tightly, feeling my blood boil. I wanted to turn around, confront them, scream that it wasn’t a lie, that all I wanted was to protect my daughter. But I didn’t. I just lowered my head and hurried out of the market, feeling like the entire town was watching me with contempt.

The worst part was returning to the Chestnut Ranch, where I had lived my whole life, where I had poured my sweat and tears to maintain the family legacy. The neighborhood kids whom I used to give candy to at parties would run past the gate and shout, “Fat pig! Fat pig!”

They were the same words Ben had said in the prep room, now repeated by childish voices sharp as blades. I stood frozen at the entrance, watching the children run away as their laughter echoed in the twilight. In that moment, I understood. It had all gone too far. Ben not only didn’t deny his insults, but he turned them into a cruel joke to humiliate me, to paint me as a selfish and overbearing mother in everyone’s eyes.

But what broke my heart the most was thinking about who had leaked that information. It could only be Laura. I remembered her triumphant look in the bride’s room. The way she sided with Ben. The way she convinced Emily that I was wrong. Laura, whom I once considered a second daughter, whom I welcomed into my home with whom I shared family meals, was now betraying me, betraying Emily.

I felt as if the ground had opened up beneath my feet, as if all the trust I ever had in people’s goodness had vanished.

One evening, I decided to visit Emily’s house unannounced. I drove through the familiar streets, my heart heavy with the hope of seeing my daughter, of talking to her like we used to. But as I entered the living room of their new house, I saw Laura sitting there calmly sipping a glass of red wine, chatting confidently with Ben, laughing as if they shared a secret I had no right to.

Seeing me, Laura immediately stood up and moved to block my path with a forced smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Audrey,” she said with a haughty tone, as if I were an unwelcome guest. “Emily is resting. She’s feeling a bit tired. Don’t bother her anymore. She needs her peace.”

I stood frozen. Laura’s words were like an iron wall separating me from my daughter. I looked into her eyes, trying to find a trace of the girl I once knew, the one who used to sleep over at my house, who would hug Emily and cry with her on difficult days. But now, I only saw a stranger, someone who wanted to force me out of Emily’s life.

A week after the wedding, I still couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that haunted me. Every night, I would lie in the old wooden bed in my room at the ranch, but sleep no longer came as easily as it used to. I knew I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I couldn’t let my daughter fall into a whirlwind of lies without a fight. So one late afternoon, as the golden light spilled over the garden in front of Emily’s house, I decided to visit her unannounced.

Maybe I hoped to find a moment to talk to her, to bring her back to me, to the truth. I drove along the winding roads that led to Emily’s new house, my heart heavy. The house was set in a small garden with meticulously cared-for rose bushes, creating a piece that was too perfect to be real.

I got out of the car, took a deep breath to calm myself, and knocked on the door. The door opened, and Emily appeared, her hair tied back, her face tired, but with a faint smile when she saw me.

“Mom, why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” she asked in a soft but slightly uncomfortable tone.

I just smiled, trying to hide the tension inside. “I just wanted to stop by and see how you are,” I replied as I walked into the living room.

But as soon as I stepped into the house, I felt something was wrong. Ben was sitting at the desk in the corner with a thick stack of papers in front of him. Emily was beside him, signing page after page, the pen flying quickly over the paper without any hesitation. Not a second to read, to think.

I frowned, a chill running down my spine. “What are you signing, Emily?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but without taking my eyes off that pile of documents.

Ben looked up, the smile on his lips not reaching his eyes, cold and calculating.

“It’s just some minor paperwork for a subsidiary company, Mom,” he said in a voice so smooth it seemed rehearsed. “It’s nothing important.”

I moved closer, trying to look over Emily’s shoulder to get a better look at what she was signing. “Why does my son’s company need Emily to sign?” I questioned, my voice starting to harden. I wasn’t a businesswoman, but I wasn’t a fool. The stacks of papers, Ben’s evasive attitude, everything made me suspicious.

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and his tone became annoyed. “Spouses are supposed to support each other.”

“Mom,” he said, emphasizing the word spouses as if to remind me of my place. “After all, we’re a family.”

I looked at Emily, hoping she would say something, ask a question, but she just glanced at me for a moment, her eyes pleading with me not to escalate the tension. Then she looked down again and continued signing as if the papers were trivial and unimportant.

My heart was pounding. The feeling of unease had turned into a burning flame in my chest. I knew I had to do something, act before it was too late. Luckily, at that moment, Ben’s phone rang. He frowned, got up, and went out to the balcony to take the call, leaving Emily and me alone in the living room.

But just a few seconds later, Emily also got up and murmured, “I’m just going to the bathroom for a moment, Mom. Stay here.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. But in my head, a bold plan was already forming.

As soon as the bathroom door closed, I acted. My heart hammered against my ribs as if trying to escape. I rushed to the desk and opened the stack of documents. Even though I didn’t understand law or business, I recognized words that made my blood run cold.

Total power of attorney, mortgage of assets, loan guarantees. The name of the Chestnut Ranch appeared over and over on every page like a red warning. This wasn’t minor paperwork, as Ben had claimed. It was a conspiracy, a plan to seize the inheritance my family had built with sweat and tears for generations.

With trembling hands, I took out my phone, activated the camera, and photographed every page as quickly as I could. The sound of running water in the bathroom was like a ticking clock, urging me to move faster. Every click of the screen was a lash on my heart, fear of being discovered, and rage at Ben’s betrayal. I carefully reordered the documents, every detail back in its place, and rushed back to the sofa, pretending to check my phone when Emily came out.

She looked at me, smiled weakly. “Mom, are you okay? You look a little tense,” she said in a concerned tone.

I wanted to scream, to tell her everything, to beg her to stop signing immediately. But I knew that if I did, she wouldn’t believe me. She would think I just wanted to ruin her happiness. “I’m fine, honey,” I replied, my voice soft, even though my heart ached. “I’m just a little tired.”

Ben returned, that same fake smile plastered on his lips. “Is mom staying for dinner?” he asked, his voice sweet, but his eyes as cold as ice.

I shook my head, making up an excuse. “I have to get back to the ranch. There are things to do. I’ll stay longer next time.” I stood up. I hugged Emily with all my strength, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. “I love you, honey,” I whispered in her ear, hoping she could feel the desperation in my voice. Emily nodded, but her gaze remained distant, as if an invisible wall had been built between us.

On the way back to the ranch, the images of the numbers and shady clauses in that stack of papers kept replaying in my mind. I remembered the days of my childhood when my father would take me through the endless mango groves, teaching me to care for each tree, each piece of land. “This is our family’s blood, Audrey,” he used to say with a voice full of pride. “You have to protect it no matter what.”

And now that legacy was in danger, not because of natural disasters or changing times, but because of my daughter’s naivety and the ambition of the man she called her husband. As soon as I got to the ranch, I ran straight to the study, turned on the computer, and called Victor, the lawyer, who had served my family for so many years. He was the man my father trusted, the one who had helped us overcome countless legal difficulties. I emailed him all the photos I had taken along with a brief message.

“Victor, please review these. I have a very bad feeling about this.”

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew that what I had just done could change everything—that I was entering a battle I wasn’t sure I could win.

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual, just as the first light of dawn was breaking over the ranch’s mango fields. I hadn’t been able to sleep. The numbers and suspicious clauses in those documents kept swirling in my head like a constant warning. I made a cup of black coffee and sat by the window, looking out at the fields, trying to calm myself. But inside, I was still a bundle of nerves—rage at Ben’s betrayal and fear for Emily’s future.

I knew that if I didn’t act immediately, everything my family had built could crumble in an instant. So, I put on an old sweater, grabbed the car keys, and drove straight to Victor’s office in the center of town. Victor’s office was on the second floor of an old building with stained walls and a smell of paper and ink hanging in the air. Wooden shelves crammed with yellowed files gave a sense of trust, as if the place had witnessed the joys and sorrows of many families.

I sat in a worn leather chair across from Victor’s oak desk. He, with his completely white hair and glasses slipping down his nose, looked at me over the photos I had sent him the night before. His eyes reflected sadness, but his voice maintained its usual calm. “Mrs. Audrey,” he began, shaking his head regretfully. “Your feeling was absolutely right. These are very dangerous power of attorney documents. With Emily’s signature, Ben has absolute control to use the assets and reputation of the Chestnut Ranch as collateral to take out loans, mortgage property, and even sell a portion of it.”

His words were like a hammer blow straight to my heart. I felt the room spin, and I gripped the arms of the chair until my knuckles turned white. “Absolute control,” I repeated, my voice trembling as if I couldn’t believe it. “You mean he can take everything with just Emily’s signature?”

Victor nodded, his gaze heavy with gravity. He turned a few more pages and his voice softened, trying to cushion the harshness of the truth. “Worse yet, I discovered that Alio Ramirez, Ben’s cousin, also appears in some of the addendums. They’ve used the Chestnut family name to secure multi-million dollar loans from major banks in Chicago.”

I shivered, feeling a cold draft run down my spine. Emily Ramirez. The name wasn’t unfamiliar. I had seen him a couple of times—a tall, heavyset man with restless eyes who always appeared alongside Ben at parties. “What do you mean by that, Victor?” I asked in a hoarse voice, almost a whisper. “If Ben’s businesses fail, what will happen?”

He looked me straight in the eye without looking away. “Exactly that, Mrs. Audrey. If his businesses fail, all the debt will fall on Emily and your family. The bank didn’t lend him money because they trusted Ben, but because they trusted the Chestnut brand, the reputation your family has built for generations.”

I shot up from my seat, unable to stay still. I paced back and forth in the small room, my heels clacking on the wooden floor in rhythm, with the car horns outside like hammers pounding on my temples. I thought of the ranch, of those mornings when my father would take me through the rows of mango trees, teaching me to care for each piece of land. “This is our blood, Audrey,” he used to say with pride. “It’s not just land. It’s history. It’s the trust of the people who work for us.”

And now all of that was in danger because of someone I once called my son-in-law. I turned to Victor, my voice trembling, but full of determination. “What are we going to do, Victor? I can’t let him destroy my family.”

He adjusted his glasses and spoke calmly but firmly. “For now, we must remain absolutely calm. Mrs. Audrey, you can’t let Ben realize you’ve discovered everything. If he suspects anything, he’ll try to hide evidence or speed up his plan. We need more evidence. We need time to completely unmask his conspiracy.”

He tapped the desk as if to emphasize his point. “I’ll start looking into the transactions related to Alio Ramirez and the banks. But you— you must keep observing. You must maintain contact with Emily. Do not let her sign any more documents.”

I nodded, though inside I felt a whirlwind of emotions. I was furious, helpless, terrified. How was I going to convince Emily when she had decided to trust Ben and Laura over me? How could I protect her if she didn’t even want to be protected?

I left Victor’s office and found myself on the bustling streets of town. The noise of the cars and the street vendors was a chaotic mess of sounds that couldn’t drown out the frantic beating of my heart. On the way back to the ranch, I couldn’t stop thinking about the workers who had been with my family for generations. I pictured them there under the scorching sun, watering, harvesting mangoes, caring for each tree as if it were their own. They trusted me, the Chestnut family, just as my parents had trusted them.

My chest tightened at the thought that all of it could be lost just because of Emily’s naivety and Ben’s ambition. I gripped the steering wheel tightly and swore to myself that I wouldn’t let it happen. The lifelong efforts of my parents and my own were not going to go up in smoke because of a scammer.

That night, I tossed and turned in the old wooden bed, the faint moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains and casting patterns on the ceiling. The wind rustling through the mango trees sounded like whispers of warning, keeping me from sleep. The numbers and clauses from the papers I had photographed replayed in my head, a reminder that time was running out.

I knew I couldn’t rely solely on those photos. I couldn’t just trust that Victor would find a way to protect Emily and the ranch. I needed clearer proof. I needed a truth strong enough to expose Ben’s scheme. And so, in the heavy silence of the night, I made a decision I never would have imagined.

I would hire a private investigator.

I contacted Victor the next morning, my voice trembling as I asked if he knew someone trustworthy who could help me dig deeper into this matter. He didn’t hesitate to recommend Mr. Isaac Fuentes, a former police investigator with over 20 years of experience whom he trusted like a friend. “If anyone can uncover the truth, it’s Isaac,” he said in a firm voice.

I arranged to meet Isaac at a small coffee shop on the outskirts of town, a place where no one knew me to avoid the curious glances of the town’s people. When I arrived, Isaac was already there, a middle-aged man with a weathered face and piercing eyes that seemed to see through any secret. He greeted me with a slight nod and got straight to the point.

“What do you want me to investigate, Mrs. Audrey? I need all the information you have.”

I told him everything, from Ben’s humiliating remarks at the wedding to the stack of suspicious papers Emily had signed. I handed him the photos I had taken in secret, my voice breaking with a mixture of anger and helplessness. Isaac listened without interrupting, carefully taking notes in a small notebook.

“I’ll start immediately,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Leave it in my hands. I’ll have the first results in a few days.”

I nodded, feeling as if a part of the burden had been lifted from my shoulders, although deep down I knew the truth Isaac would bring me could hurt even more.

Just three days later, Isaac called me to a small hotel in the city center. When I entered the private room he had rented, he placed a thick, carefully sealed brown envelope in front of me. “You should prepare yourself,” he said with a serious look.

I opened the envelope with trembling hands, and what I found inside made the blood in my veins run cold. A series of photographs appeared. Ben, with his typical arrogant smile, holding hands with a young, beautiful, and elegant woman. They were coming out of luxury restaurants in Chicago, from exclusive shops carrying bags with shiny logos. In one of the photos, he was holding her tenderly by the waist, as if Emily, my daughter, had never existed.

Rage exploded in my chest, so intense I could barely breathe. “Who is she?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

Isaac adjusted his glasses, his tone grave and cautious. “Her name is Valerie Guzman, an employee at a bank in Chicago. I’ve been following them for several days. They meet frequently, not just in public places, but also in an apartment Ben rented under the company’s name.” He paused as if to give me time to process it. “But that’s not all. I have something you need to hear.”

He handed me a small USB drive with a look that seemed to warn that what I was about to hear would change everything.

I went back to the ranch, locked the study door, and plugged the USB into the computer. My heart was pounding as if it already knew that what I was about to hear would shatter what little hope I had left.

Ben’s familiar voice came through cold and raw like a sharp knife.

“That Emily girl is so easy to fool. As long as she signs the papers, the entire Chestnut family fortune will soon be in our hands. And her old mother, who always pretends to be so smart, will end up in tears when she signs her own ranch’s bankruptcy papers. Emily will convince her. You’ll see. She loves her daughter so much.”

Valerie’s shrill laughter echoed like a deeper cut in my chest. “You’re a genius,” she said, her tone sarcastic. “Putting up with a little pig for a fortune is worth it.”

They both burst out laughing. That wild laughter reverberated in the room and made me tremble with rage. I quickly wiped away the angry tear that escaped, clutching my rosary until my knuckles turned white. Those words weren’t just a betrayal of Emily. They were a slap in the face to me— to the love I had given my daughter.

I wanted to scream, to destroy everything. But I knew that anger couldn’t save Emily. I needed to act. I needed proof and a plan.

Isaac continued his report, his voice monotonous but heavy with weight. “I’ve discovered an important detail, Mrs. Audrey. Ben has a major conflict with his own brother, Arthur. They say they once fought almost to the death over money. Arthur was Ben’s partner, but Ben cheated him. He took a large sum of money and left Arthur’s family in ruins. If you need a witness, Arthur could be the key.”

Isaac’s words were like a ray of hope in the darkness. I looked at him with a determined gaze, though my heart still ached. “You’re right. If Arthur knows the truth about Ben, he could help me. Do you know where Arthur is?”

Isaac nodded and gave me a piece of paper with the address of a dive bar on the outskirts of Morelia. “He’s a regular there,” he said. “But you have to be careful. Arthur isn’t easy to deal with, especially when talking about his brother.”

I held the paper, feeling like I had grasped a fragile but valuable opportunity. “Keep watching him,” I said in a firm voice. “I need to know everything he does, where he goes. And I will go find Arthur.”

Isaac nodded, and I could see in his eyes that he understood I was betting everything on this fight. “I’ll do my best, Mrs. Audrey,” he said. “Trust me.”

With the paper containing the address of the bar on the outskirts of Morelia from Isaac, I got in the car, determined, but also worried. The road to the bar was narrow and winding, flanked by dry fields and small shacks. As I pushed the door open and entered, the smell of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke hit my nose, mixed with a sad ranchera song coming from an old speaker. The bar was dark. Only a few dim yellow bulbs hung from the ceiling.

I looked around, searching for Arthur, who Isaac said was a regular, drowning his sorrows in alcohol almost every day. And indeed, I found him in the darkest corner of the bar, sitting alone in front of a half-empty beer bottle. Arthur looked worn out. His face etched with deep wrinkles, as if life had taken too much from him. His eyes were cloudy, heavy with sadness, but still held a sharp glint, like someone who has endured great suffering.

I took a deep breath, approached, and pulled up a chair to sit across from him. “Hello,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm, though my heart was pounding. “I’m Audrey Chestnut—Ben’s mother-in-law, his brother’s…”

Arthur looked up, weariness and despair etched on his face. He gave a faint, unfriendly smile. “Did you come to defend that son of a…?” His voice was full of bitterness. “If so, leave. I don’t want to hear anything about him.”

I felt the hatred in every word he spoke. But instead of intimidating me, it gave me hope. If Arthur hated Ben so much, maybe he was the key to exposing him.

“No,” I replied, my voice firm without looking away from him. “I came because I, like you, am a victim of his.”

Arthur frowned, surprised for a moment, but said nothing. He simply motioned for me to continue.

I took the brown envelope Isaac had given me from my bag and placed it on the table. “You need to see this,” I said, lowering my voice. “This is evidence of what Ben is doing to my daughter, to my family.”

I opened the envelope and took out the photos of Ben with Valerie Guzman, the woman he was involved with in Chicago. I pushed them toward Arthur, one by one, as if I were peeling away his brother’s mask, layer by layer. Arthur took them, his hands trembling as he saw Ben hugging Valerie, laughing in luxurious restaurants.

“That bastard,” he muttered, his voice thick with fury.

I took out my phone and played the recording Isaac had made. Ben’s voice sounded cold and raw. “That Emily girl is a stupid, easy target. If she just signs the papers, the entire Chestnut fortune will soon be in our hands. And her old mother, who always pretends to be so smart, will end up in tears when she signs her own ranch’s bankruptcy papers. Emily will convince her. You’ll see. She loves her daughter so much.”

Valerie’s crystal-clear laughter was like another knife twisting in my gut.

“You’re a genius,” she said, “putting up with a fat little pig for a fortune is worth it.”

The more he listened, the darker Arthur’s face became. He gripped the bottle tightly, the veins on his hands standing out as if they were about to burst.

When the recording finished, he looked up at me, his eyes red, whether from the alcohol or indignation, I couldn’t tell.

“He never changed,” Arthur said, his voice with emotion and resentment. “He scammed us out of all our savings, left us ruined. My father, out of despair, suffered a stroke and died. My mother is now in the hospital with no money for treatment. And not once did he show up at the house. I swore I would never forgive him.”

Arthur’s words were like an icy wind, but at the same time, they ignited a spark of hope in me. I realized he wasn’t just a witness. He was someone who shared my pain. Another person betrayed by Ben.

“I know you’ve suffered a lot because of him,” I said, softening my voice but remaining firm. “And so have I. He’s taking advantage of my daughter Emily to take over my family’s ranch. But I’m not going to let him win.”

“Mr. Arthur, I need your help. Come forward and testify. Help me bring him to justice. I’m not just doing this to get the property back. More importantly, I’m doing it to save my daughter.”

Arthur remained silent, his gaze fixed on the beer bottle in front of him. I could see he was waging an internal battle between the pain of the past and his doubt about what I was proposing. The bar suddenly fell silent, only the distant sad ranchera music remained. I waited, not daring to press him, but with my heart pounding as if every second that passed was a fleeting opportunity.

Finally, Arthur looked up, his eyes now cold and determined. “All right,” he said in a firm voice. “I’ll tell them everything. I’ll help you.”

I nodded, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. “Thank you,” I replied, my voice trembling with emotion. “We’ll stop him together.”

Arthur didn’t answer, just tilted his head. But in his eyes, I recognized the same determination that was in mine. Two people hurt by the same man had become allies in a relentless battle. With irrefutable evidence in our hands, I felt as if I were wielding a sharp sword ready to cut through all the lies.

Victor, with the caution and firmness of an experienced lawyer, filed a lawsuit on my behalf against Ben and his accomplices, including Alio Ramirez, for fraud, embezzlement, and breach of trust. I knew this trial was not just a legal fight, but also a chance to reclaim justice for Emily, for the Chestnut Ranch, and for my own pride.

On the day of the trial, I woke up early as dawn was just breaking over the mango fields. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the simple white blouse and long skirt I had chosen to project calm, but also firmness. Inside, I was nervous, anxious, as if I were about to enter a battle I didn’t know if I could win. But when I thought of Emily, of the innocence in her eyes and Ben’s humiliations, I clutched the rosary in my hands and told myself, “I have to do this for my daughter.”

The courtroom of the state of Michigan was packed. It seemed the whole town had come—from the farmhands who had worked on my ranch to the homemakers from the market and the neighbors who used to whisper behind my back. A murmur of curiosity and tension filled the air. I sat in the front row next to Victor, trying to maintain a serene expression, though my heart was pounding in my chest.

Ben and Alio walked into the courtroom with their usual arrogant confidence. Ben wore a tailored suit, a smug smile on his face as if he believed no one could touch him. Alio followed his eyes, darting around nervously, though he feigned calm.

I watched them, feeling the blood boil in my veins. But when my eyes met Emily’s, the pain shot through me again. I saw her walk in with Laura, her face pale, her eyes red from crying. Emily avoided my gaze, her head down, her black hair falling over her face. Laura held her hand and whispered something to her, but I could see the confusion in my daughter’s every gesture. She looked like a trapped little bird, not knowing which way to fly.

The judge, a middle-aged man with a stern face, banged his gavel to start the trial. Victor stood up and presented the case with a clear, forceful voice. He detailed Ben’s conspiracy from tricking Emily into signing power of attorney documents to leveraging the Chestnut Ranch’s prestige to obtain huge loans. Every word he spoke was like an arrow hitting its mark, causing a stir throughout the courtroom.

But the moment that truly took my breath away was when Victor asked to play the recording Isaac had obtained. When Ben’s voice echoed through the speakers, the entire room erupted.

“That Emily fool is easy to manipulate. As long as she signs the papers, the entire Chestnut inheritance will soon be in our hands.”

The insults of “Fat Pig,” the plans to seize the assets. Everything was laid bare before dozens of disbelieving eyes. Murmurs of outrage spread like a rising tide. I looked at Emily and saw her frozen, her eyes wide with horror. She stared at Ben as if she couldn’t believe the man she loved could say such words. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Laura, sitting beside her, quickly whispered something in her ear, squeezing the girl’s hand tightly as if to hold her back. But Emily, in an unexpected moment, pulled her hand away from Laura’s and said in a trembling but firm voice, “No, Laura, don’t say anything.”

I saw Laura’s bewildered expression, the fake smile vanishing from her lips. I felt a small sense of relief, though the pain was still there. Emily was hurt, and despite all my attempts to warn her, I couldn’t prevent this moment.

The climax of the trial came when Arthur took the stand. He looked very different from the last time I saw him in the bar. Today, he wore a clean shirt, his hair was combed, though his face still bore the marks of suffering. He began to speak in a hoarse, emotional voice.

“I am Ben’s brother,” he said, scanning the courtroom before his eyes landed on his brother. “But I’m not here to defend him. I’m here to tell the truth. He cheated my family and took all the savings my parents had gathered their entire lives. My father, out of despair, suffered a stroke and died, and my mother is now in the hospital with no money for treatment. It was all because of Ben.”

The courtroom fell silent. The only sound was Arthur’s voice heavy as a tombstone. He told how Ben promised investments and then fled with the money. How he begged his brother to come back and only received silence.

“He has no heart,” Arthur said, his voice breaking. “He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

I looked at Ben and saw him shouting furiously. “You’re lying! You’re just jealous of me!”

But his shouts were drowned out by the indignation in the room. For the first time, I saw absolute panic in the eyes of the man who had always believed himself a winner.

After the closing arguments, when Victor concluded with a powerful call for justice, a deep silence fell over the courtroom. The judge, with a stern face, scanned the room until his eyes rested on Emily.

“Miss Emily Chestnut,” he said in a grave, clear voice. “Do you have anything you wish to say before the court passes sentence?”

The whole room held its breath. I looked at Emily. My heart stopped. She stood up, trembling, resting her hands on the back of the seat for support. I saw her lips pressed together, her gaze flicking over Ben, and then stopping on me for just a moment, but long enough for me to see the pain and determination in her eyes.

“I was deceived,” Emily said, her voice trembling but full of firmness. “I trusted someone who didn’t deserve it. I want a divorce.”

Her words sounded like thunder reverberating through the silent courtroom. The entire court erupted in murmurs, but I could only hear the frantic beating of my own heart.

I looked at Ben and saw him jerk his head up, his eyes full of surprise and panic. His face turned pale, as if the life had been drained from him.

“Emily, you can’t do this!” he shouted, his voice cracking, but his words were lost under the sound of the judge’s gavel.

The judge banged his gavel, demanding silence. He looked at the papers in front of him and delivered the sentence in a cold voice.

“The defendant, Ben Ramirez, is found guilty of organized fraud and breach of trust and is sentenced to 7 years in prison. The defendant, Alio Ramirez, as an accomplice, receives a sentence of 3 years in prison.”

The courtroom erupted again, this time with applause and murmurs of relief. I sat there feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. But at the same time, my heart ached as I watched Emily bow her head, tears streaming down her face.

When the police entered and handcuffed Ben and Alio, I saw him try to turn his head, searching for Emily’s gaze, but she wouldn’t look at him. The officers escorted them towards the exit, and as the door opened, I saw Valerie Guzman, Ben’s mistress, waiting for him in the hallway. She stood with her arms crossed in a stunning dress, smiling with contempt.

“I want nothing to do with a failure,” she said in a sharp voice loud enough for everyone around to hear. “So this is goodbye. You’re useless to me now.”

With that, she turned and walked away, the clicking of her heels on the stone floor echoing like a final declaration.

Ben screamed in desperation, but his voice faded as the door closed.

I looked at Laura, who was quietly gathering her bag, her head bowed, trying to slip out unnoticed. The scornful gazes of those present—her former neighbors and friends—followed her like needles piercing her skin.

I felt no satisfaction watching her like this. Instead, a deep sadness washed over me. Laura had been a part of Emily’s life. I had even loved her like a daughter. But she chose to be on the wrong side. And now she had to face the consequences of her actions.

The end of the trial marked the beginning of a new chapter for Emily and me.