I woke up from the coma and heard my son say, “The old woman is going to the nursing home as soon as he dies.” I pretended to be unconscious. The machines kept beeping around me, but I was already wide awake. Every word that came out of his mouth was like a direct blow to the chest, not to the heart, because that had already been broken for a long time.

It was a blow to something deeper, to dignity, to the years of sacrifice, to everything I thought I had built. My son, my own son, the child I carried in my arms when he weighed just 3 kg. The same one I taught to ride a bicycle in the garden of Polanco’s house, the one I took to Disneyland three times because each time I wanted to repeat the experience.

That same man was now standing by my hospital bed, planning to get rid of his mother like someone who gets rid of an old piece of furniture. It’s the best, Sofia said to her sister. You know how mom is. She will not be able to live alone. The asylum of San Ángel is good, it has gardens. He will not even notice. Sofia did not respond immediately. There was a silence that gave me hope for a second.

Maybe she, my daughter, the apple of my eye, would say something. Maybe he would defend his mother. Maybe I would remember everything we did for them. What if Dad recovers?” she finally asked. “The doctors said it’s a miracle that he’s still alive,” Roberto replied. “And even if he wakes up, you know it’s going to look bad.

He will not be able to work, he will not be able to manage anything. It’s better for us to take control. Now I spoke to the notary, there he was. The truth is that they were not worried about my recovery, they were worried about money, property, business, everything that took me 40 years to build. My name is Mauricio Sandoval, I am 57 years old, although now I feel like I am 90.

6 days ago I had a stroke while I was in a work meeting. I collapsed in front of everyone, as the doctors told me later. I don’t remember anything about those early days, only darkness. And then, when I started waking up, voices, voices that I didn’t know I was hearing, voices that revealed to me who the people I loved most in the world really were.

I was born in Ciudad Nesaualcoyotl, in the state of Mexico. My father was a mechanic and my mother sold tamales at a stall outside the house. We had nothing. Well, we had love, we had dignity, we wanted to get ahead, but we didn’t have money, what is called money. I was the first in my family to finish high school, the first to enter college.

I studied civil engineering at UNAM, working during the day and studying at night. I slept 4 hours, sometimes three, but I never complained. He knew that education was the only way out. I knew Beatriz when I was 23 years old. She worked in the school library.

She was beautiful, but not of that artificial beauty that is so much seen now. She was beautiful, really. He had a smile that lit up any room. And when he smiled at me, he felt like he could conquer the world. We got married months after we met. We didn’t have money for a big wedding. We were married in the civil ceremony with my parents and theirs as witnesses. The party was at my mother-in-law’s house with pozole and beer.

It was the happiest day of my life. Beatriz always believed in me. When everyone told me that I was crazy for wanting to start my own construction company, she supported me. When we went months without a single contract and had to eat beans and tortillas every day. She never complained. When I had to pawn her wedding ring to pay the payroll of my three employees, she hugged me and said, “We’ll get it back, my love. You’ll see.” And we recovered it.

We recover the ring and much more. In 10 years, my construction company went from three employees to 120. We build subdivisions, office buildings, shopping malls. We became one of the most reliable contractors in the center of the country. The money began to arrive first little by little, then like an avalanche. We bought our first house in Polanco when I was 35 years old.

Five bedrooms, garden, pool. Beatriz cried when I gave her the keys. This is ours. He asked me. All ours, I replied. And that night we made love as if we were still those penniless students who dreamed of a better future. Roberto was born a year later. Sofia arrived two years later.

They were the happiest years of our lives. I worked a lot, it’s true. Many times I came home late, many times I missed school plays or Roberto’s soccer games, but I did everything for them, to give them what I never had, so that they would not have to suffer as I suffered. I gave them everything. One of the most expensive private schools in the city, English classes, French classes, music classes, trips to Europe every summer. Roberto studied business administration at Tecnológico de Monterrey.

Sofia studied fashion design in New York. I bought her an apartment in Manhattan so she wouldn’t have to share with anyone. When Roberto graduated, I integrated him into the company. I gave him a management position from the beginning. He wanted me to learn the business from the inside. I wanted him to take the reins one day, to continue what I had started, but Roberto didn’t have my hunger, he didn’t have my desire. For him everything had been easy.

He never had to worry about money. He never had to stay up at night, wondering if he was going to be able to pay the bills. Money was always there and when you have never had to fight for something, you don’t give it the value it really has. He began to arrive late to meetings, to cancel important appointments, to sign contracts without reviewing them well.

I had to intervene several times to fix his mistakes, but I never scolded him hard. It was my son. I thought that in time it would mature, that it would find its way. Sofia married a Spanish architect she met in New York, Alejandro. An elegant guy, well spoken, with good manners. I liked him at first. He seemed like a serious, responsible man, but then I realized that he was only interested in my daughter’s money.

Well, on my money, to be honest. When they got married, I bought them a house in the woods of the hills, three floors, six bedrooms, a gym, a wine cellar. I also gave Sofia a 20% stake in one of my companies so that she would have her own income.

I wanted it to be independent, to never have to depend on anyone, but easy money corrupts and I gave them too much money, too fast. Roberto bought a Porsche, then a Bentley, began frequenting exclusive nightclubs, traveling to Las Vegas every month, spending on unnecessary things. I would call his attention, but he would reply, “I’m enjoying life, Dad. That’s what we work for.” Oh, no.

I didn’t work for that. I worked to build something solid, to leave a legacy, to make sure that my children and grandchildren were never in need. But they didn’t see it that way. For them, money was infinite, like a tap that never turns off. Beatriz noticed. He told me that at night when we were alone in the bedroom. Mauricio, you’re spoiling them.

They don’t value anything they have. And I answered, I’m giving them what I never had. What’s wrong with that? The bad thing is that they are not learning what really matters in life,” she told me. And as always, my Beatriz was right. Two years ago I began to notice changes in my children’s attitudes.

Small details at the beginning. Roberto stopped visiting us on Sundays. Before, he came religiously to eat with us. It was a family tradition, but suddenly it started to cancel. I have a commitment, Dad. I came up with something at the last minute. Next week for sure. Sofia also distanced herself. He no longer called me like before.

He used to call me three or four times a week, just to talk, to tell me about his day, to ask me for advice. But those calls became more and more spaced out and when we spoke there was always a rush in his voice as if he were fulfilling an obligation. “They’re busy,” Beatriz told me to console me. “They already have their own families, their own lives, it’s normal.

“But I knew it wasn’t normal. A busy child is one thing, a child who avoids you is quite another. Then the requests for money began. Roberto wanted me to lend him 2 million pesos for a safe investment that never materialized. Sofia needed half a million to remodel the house when the house was perfect.

I gave them the money the first few times with no questions asked. They were my children. What parent refuses help to their children? But the requests did not stop and I never, ever got a single peso back. 6 months ago I discovered that Roberto had used my name to get a loan of 5 million pesos. He forged my signature on the documents.

When I confronted him, he showed no remorse. I was going to tell you, Dad, but I knew you were going to make a drama. I needed the money urgently. What did you need it for? To pay off debts. What debts, Roberto? He didn’t answer me, he just looked at me with those cold eyes that I no longer recognized. When had my son become this stranger? Beatriz was devastated.

She cried at night. What did we do wrong, Mauricio? At what point did we lose our children? I had no answer for her. I could only hug her and feel that same pain she felt. The pain of a father who gives everything and receives indifference in return. Then came the episode, the cerebral vascular event, as the doctors call it.

I was in a meeting with Japanese investors. We were closing an important contract. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my head, as if someone had stabbed me with a knife. Words got stuck in me. My left arm stopped answering me. Mr. Sandoval, I heard someone ask.

Are you okay? I couldn’t answer. I fell to the ground and then darkness. I don’t know how long I was unconscious. The doctors say it was six days. Six days in a coma, six days in which my brain struggled to survive, six days in which my family fought for something very different. I began to wake up little by little.

First there were sensations, the sound of the machines, the smell of the hospital, the discomfort of the bed. Then came the voices, distant voices at first, then clearer. And then I listened to Roberto and Sofia, my children, my only two children, planning my future and that of their mother as if we were objects, as if we were a problem to be solved.

I have already spoken with a notary, Roberto said, we can make a power of attorney while dad is incapacitated. This allows us to make decisions about companies and properties. What if he wakes up and opposes it? Sofia asked. The doctors said that even if she wakes up she will be left with sequelae. You probably can’t speak well or move. You will need 24-hour care.

So we are going to have to hire nurses, of course, but for dad, not for mom. She goes to the asylum. Those words pierced me like a bullet. She goes to the asylum. Beatriz, my wife, the woman who had been by my side for 34 years. The woman who supported me when we had nothing.

The woman who sacrificed her own dreams so that I could pursue mine. The woman who raised those two ungrateful people who were now planning to lock her up in an asylum. I wanted to scream, I wanted to open my eyes and confront them right there, but something stopped me. A voice inside me told me, “Wait, listen. You need to know the whole truth. and I kept listening. The San Ángel nursing home costs 50,000 pesos a month, Roberto continued.

It is expensive, but it has good facilities and most importantly, it is far away. He is not going to be bothering or asking about companies or money. Do you think Mom will accept? asked Sofia. Roberto let out a bitter laugh. Mom doesn’t have to accept anything. When Dad is gone, we are the ones who make the decisions. She has nothing to her name. Everything is in Dad’s name.

It was true because of a mistake that I now clearly understood. All the properties, all the companies, all the bank accounts were in my name. I thought I was protecting Beatriz, that if something happened to me, the children would take care of her. I never imagined that they would be the ones who would betray her. And what do we do with the properties?, Sofia asked.

We sell the house in Polanco, it is worth at least 50 million. We leave the rental apartments as an investment and we divide the shares of the construction company between the two. Alejandro says that we should sell the entire construction company, Sofia intervened, that we could get about 300 million if we sell it to a Spanish company that is interested.

Alejandro, of course, the Spanish architect, the one who seemed so polite and respectful. It turns out that he was the mastermind behind all this. Not a bad idea, Roberto replied. With that money we could invest in something more profitable. Construction is no longer what it used to be. They talked about destroying what took me 40 years to build, selling my company as if it were scrap metal, dividing up the money and disappearing. And worst of all, they talked about abandoning their mother.

I continued with my eyes closed. The heart monitor showed that my heart was beating normally. The finest blood pressure showed stable numbers. For everyone I was still in a coma, but inside I was wide awake, fully conscious, and completely shattered. They stayed talking for a few more minutes.

Details about notaries, lawyers, bank accounts. They had everything planned, they had coordinated everything, they were only waiting for one thing, for me to disappear. And where is Mom now?, Sofia asked suddenly. He went to change his clothes at home. I told him to take his time, that I was staying to take care of Dad. Another dagger. Roberto wasn’t there taking care of me, he was there watching me, waiting.

Like a vulture, it waits for its prey to finish dying. “Well, I’m leaving,” said Sofia. I have to pick up the kids from school. Will you let me know if there are any changes? Sure, but I don’t think anything will happen. Doctors said it can stay that way for weeks or months. I heard Sofia’s footsteps walking away.

The door opened and closed. Roberto was left alone with me. I felt his presence nearby. He walked over to the bed. For a moment I thought he was going to do something. I don’t know what, but I felt scared. Real fear. I wish you had left quickly, old man. I heard him mutter. This is getting complicated and expensive. Every day in this hospital costs a fortune. Then he walked away. I heard him sit in the chair by the window.

the sound of his phone. He was sending messages, probably planning more things, more betrayals. He would lie there for hours. Roberto fell asleep at some point, I heard him snore, with his eyes closed he thought, he planned. For the first time in six days my mind was completely clear.

I wasn’t going to let them do this to me. I wasn’t going to let them do this to Beatriz. We had worked too hard. We had sacrificed too much and we weren’t going to end our days apart. She in a nursing home and I in a hospital bed, while our children squandered everything we built. But I needed a plan and I needed Beatriz to know it.

Night fell on the hospital. Roberto was still there dozing on the couch, waking up every now and then to check his phone. I was still motionless, with my eyes closed, but my mind was working at full speed. I needed to communicate with Beatriz.

It was urgent, but how? I couldn’t move without Roberto noticing. I couldn’t speak. The nurses came in every two hours to check on vital signs, but always with Roberto present. There was no way to pass him a message. Then, around 11 p.m., I heard different, lighter, familiar footsteps. “Good night,” said a soft voice.

It was Nurse Lupita who had been taking care of me the first few days. An older woman in her 60s with warm hands and a motherly voice. I had liked her from the beginning, although I wasn’t conscious at the time to tell her. “Good night,” Roberto replied in a sleepy voice. “How’s my father doing?” Stable, she replied.

I’m going to check it out. Why don’t you go get a coffee? You have to be exhausted from being here all day. I’m fine,” Roberto replied. “I insist,” Lupita said firmly. “You need to clear your mind. The cafeteria is on the second floor. Take advantage of the fact that it’s open all night. Take about 15 minutes. I’ll stay with your dad.” There was a pause. Roberto was hesitant.

“It’s okay,” she finally said. 15 minutes. I heard her footsteps moving away. The door closed and then I felt Lupita’s hand on my forehead. She’s gone, she whispered. You can open your eyes, Don Mauricio My heart skipped a beat. How did she know? I opened my eyes slowly. Lupita looked at me with a sad smile.

“I knew it since yesterday afternoon,” he said quietly. “I’ve been working in intensive care for 30 years. I know when a patient is waking up and when he’s awake pretending. His eye movements under his eyelids gave him away. I tried to speak, but my voice came out raspy, weak. My wife, I know, Lupita said. I listened to his children this afternoon, that’s why I sent that boy for coffee.

We have little time. I need to talk to Beatriz, I managed to say. Lupita took her cell phone out of her pocket. What’s her number? I told you. I had a hard time pronouncing the numbers, but I made it. She dialed and put the phone on low speaker. Three rings. Four, five. Well, Beatriz’s voice answered. She sounded tired, broken.

Mrs. Sandoval, Lupita asked. I’m Lupita Hernández, your husband’s nurse. I need you to come to the hospital immediately, and come alone. It’s urgent, very urgent. What happened, Mauricio? Is he okay? Your husband is perfectly fine, Lupita said, looking at me. Better than you can imagine, but I need you to come now.

And please, don’t tell anyone, no one, do you understand? There was silence on the other end. I understand, Beatriz replied. Her voice had changed. She had picked up on something in Lupita’s tone. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Lupita hung up. Your son will be back any minute. You have to keep pretending. You can do that. I nodded. Good. When your wife arrives, I’ll show her in.

Your son is probably here, but I’ll come up with something to get him out of the room for a few minutes. Make the most of that time. Thank you, I managed to whisper. She squeezed my hand. I’ve seen a lot of awful things in this hospital, Don Mauricio. Families fighting over inheritances while the patient is still breathing. Children abandoning their parents.

But what I heard today, that was particularly cruel. You and your wife don’t deserve that. I closed my eyes just as the door opened. Roberto had returned. “How is she?” he asked. “The same,” Lupita replied professionally, “no change, but the signs are good. Her body is responding well to the treatment.” “How much longer do you think she’ll continue like this?” “It’s impossible to know.”

I might wake up tomorrow, or it could take weeks. The brain is unpredictable. Roberto sighed. A sigh of frustration, not worry. That much was clear to me. Lupita finished examining me and left the room. The next 20 minutes were the longest of my life. I could hear Roberto typing on his phone.

Every now and then she murmured something, probably talking to Alejandro or Sofía. Then I heard voices outside. One of them was Beatriz. “Good evening. I’ve come to see my husband.” The door opened. Beatriz came in. I could smell her perfume. That same perfume she’d worn since I met her. Banda and vanilla. The smell of home.

“Mom,” Roberto said, “what are you doing here so late?” “I couldn’t sleep,” she replied. “I needed to see him.” She came over to my bed. I felt her hand take mine. I was trembling. “Has anything changed?” she asked. “No,” Roberto replied. “He’s still the same.” At that moment, Lupita came back in. “Excuse me,” she said.

Mr. Roberto, could you come with me for a moment? I need you to sign some papers at the nurses’ station. It’s about insurance and treatment costs. Can’t you wait until tomorrow? I’m afraid not. They’re administrative procedures that need to be sorted out today. It won’t take more than five minutes. Roberto got up reluctantly. Fine. I’ll be right back to Mom.

She left with Lupita. The door closed. I opened my eyes immediately. Mauricio gasped. Beatriz. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “My God, are you awake?” I finished the sentence. “Listen, my love. We don’t have much time. I need you to listen carefully.” She looked at me, scared and confused, but nodded.

I heard them, I told Roberto and Sofía. I heard everything. I know what they’re planning to do to you. The nursing home thing, selling everything, everything. Beatriz put a hand to her mouth. I knew something was wrong, but I thought, “There’s no time for that now.” I interrupted her. “I need you to do exactly what I’m going to tell you.” Do you hear me? Exactly.

She nodded, wiping away her tears. First, don’t tell anyone I’m awake. No one, not the doctors, not the nurses, except Lupita. She’s on our side. Why? Because I need time. Time to plan. If they know I’m conscious, they’ll speed up their plans, they’ll make me sign papers.

They’re going to find doctors who’ll say I’m not in my right mind. I know how this works, Beatriz. I’ve seen similar cases with other business owners. She nodded, though she was still trembling. Second, go to the bank tomorrow morning, the BBVA on Reforma. Ask for Mr. Villarreal. He’s the manager. Tell him I’m there on his behalf, that you need access to the safety deposit box.

What’s in the safe deposit box? Important documents, contracts, deeds, and cash—lots of cash. There’s about $5 million in bills. Beatriz’s eyes widened. It’s emergency money, I explained. I’ve always been cautious. Take everything out, pack it into two suitcases, take it home, and hide it well in the basement, behind the Christmas boxes. Nobody looks there.

Mauricio, you’re scaring me. Well, you should be scared because what’s coming isn’t going to be easy. I gripped her hand tighter. Third, contact Mr. Mendoza, my personal lawyer, the one at the firm in Santa Fe. Tell him you need to see him urgently, that it’s a matter of life and death. He’ll understand.

So what do I tell him? You tell him you need to draw up a power of attorney, a broad, irrevocable power of attorney, that gives you total control over all my properties and businesses while I’m incapacitated. But Roberto said he’s already working on something like that. Roberto is going to try to do it, but Mendoza has been my lawyer for 20 years. He’s not going to do anything without talking to me or without my explicit authorization.

And when you get to him, he’ll know what to do. He’s an intelligent, loyal man, one of the few left. Beatriz was breathing heavily. What else? Fourth, start taking money out of the accounts, not all at once, because that will raise suspicions, but take out 50,000 pesos here, 100,000 there.

Use different ATMs, different branches. Mauricio, this sounds like we’re planning to run away. I looked her straight in the eyes, because that’s exactly what we’re going to do. She froze. Listen to me carefully, my love. Our children betrayed us. The family we built, the family we sacrificed everything for, betrayed us.

And I’m not going to stay here waiting to be locked up in this hospital while they put you in a nursing home and steal everything we built. But where to run? Far, far away, to a place where they can’t find us, where we can start over. Mauricio, we’re almost 60. Start over.

We did it once when we had nothing, I reminded her. We can do it again. But this time we have experience, we have resources, and most importantly, we have each other. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, but now there was something else in her eyes, something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Fire, determination. When? she asked simply. Soon, very soon.

But first I need to recover a little more. I need to be able to walk. I need to be able to take care of myself. Give me a week, maybe two. And if the doctors discharge you sooner, they won’t. I’m going to make sure they think I’m still seriously ill, that I need more time under observation. In fact, I paused. Tell the doctors you want a second opinion.

You want to bring in a specialized neurologist from Houston? That’ll buy us time. Roberto’s going to object. Let him object. You’re my legal wife, and while I’m incapacitated, you have the final say on medical decisions. No, he said. Beatriz nodded. I could see her mind working, processing everything. One more thing, I added, start packing.

Not much, just the essentials: clothes, personal documents, photographs that are important to you, but do it discreetly. If Roberto or Sofia ask, tell them you’re donating things, that you’re cleaning to keep your mind occupied. As for where we’re going exactly, I don’t know yet, but I’ve been thinking, maybe Spain or Portugal, a place where we can have a good quality of life, where money goes further and where we have privacy, where nobody knows us, where we can simply be Mauricio and

Beatriz again. She smiled through her tears. We haven’t been just Mauricio and Beatriz for a long time. I know. And that was part of the problem. We became Roberto and Sofía’s parents, their providers, their personal banks, but we forgot to be ourselves. We heard footsteps outside.

Roberto was coming back. “Close your eyes,” Beatriz whispered. “I closed them just as the door opened.” “Everything okay, Mom?” Roberto asked. “Yes,” she replied. Her voice sounded firm, now controlled. She was just talking to him. They say coma patients can hear. That it helps them.

“How beautiful,” Roberto said, but his tone was completely empty. There was no affection, nothing there. “I’m going to leave,” Beatriz said. “I need to rest.” “Sure, Mom, drive carefully.” I felt Beatriz’s lips on my forehead, a kiss, and then her voice, barely a whisper next to my ear. “I love you. We’ll get through this.” Her footsteps faded away.

The door closed, and I remained there motionless, my eyes closed. But for the first time in days, I felt hope. Beatriz was with me, and together, as always, we were going to find a way. The following days were the hardest of my life. I had to remain completely still for hours, feign unconsciousness when the doctors came to examine me, and listen to Roberto and Sofía talking about my future as if I no longer existed.

But those were also days of awakening, of rediscovering myself, of remembering who I was before becoming the provider, the successful businessman, the doting father. Beatriz came twice a day, morning and night. She always made sure Roberto or Sofía weren’t there. Lupita helped her by inventing excuses to get my children out of the room for a few minutes. In those brief moments, Beatriz brought me up to speed.

I had gone to the bank, withdrawn the money from the safety deposit box, and spoken with attorney Mendoza. Everything was in place. Roberto went to see Mendoza yesterday. He whispered to me one afternoon. He asked him to draw up the power of attorney in his favor. Mendoza told him he needed to speak with you first, that it was standard procedure. Roberto became furious.

What did Mendoza do? He told her that without her explicit consent he couldn’t do anything, that it was his duty as a lawyer. Roberto threatened to report him to the bar association. Mendoza is smarter than that. I said, “He knows how to handle these situations. Is there anything else?” Beatriz added. Roberto hired a private investigator. My heart started racing.

Why? To check all our bank accounts. Do you want to know exactly how much we have and where it all is? Have you already taken the money out of the accounts? Like I told you, yes, little by little. I already have almost 2 million pesos in cash hidden at home. But I’m scared, Mauricio. What if they find something? They won’t find anything, I assured him. The money in the safe deposit box doesn’t appear in any bank records.

It’s completely invisible, and the cash you’re withdrawing is in small amounts that can easily be justified as household expenses. The doctors came every day to evaluate me. I had learned to control my breathing, to keep my muscles completely relaxed, and not to react when they pricked me or moved me.

Dr. Salazar, the neurologist in charge, was baffled. “It’s strange,” he told Roberto. “His vital signs are good. The brain scan shows that the inflammation has decreased considerably. Shouldn’t he be waking up? What does it mean that he’s not waking up?” Roberto asked. And I could detect the anxiety in his voice.

She needed me to wake up so she could carry out her plans. But she also needed me to be weak enough not to resist. It could be a variety of factors, the doctor replied. Sometimes the brain needs more time to heal. We’ll continue monitoring. One afternoon, Sofia came alone, sat by my bed, and remained there silently for almost an hour.

I wondered what she was thinking. Did she have any regrets? Any doubts about what they were planning? Then she spoke in a low voice, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Dad. They say people in a coma can hear. I don’t know if it’s true.” She paused. “Roberto says we should sell everything, that it’s the best option. Alejandro agrees.”

They say that this way we can secure our future, the future of your grandchildren. My grandchildren. Now they were thinking about my grandchildren. The same grandchildren they rarely let me see because they were always so busy. I’m not so sure. She continued. It’s your company, your working life. It feels bad to sell everything like this, but Roberto says you would understand, that you always wanted us to be okay.

She paused again for a long time, this time about Mom. Her voice broke slightly. “I don’t want her to go to a nursing home, I really don’t. But Roberto says it’s for the best, that we can’t take care of her, that she’ll be better off there with professionals looking after her.” So Sofía had her doubts. But not enough to do anything about it. Not enough to defend myself or her mother.

“I miss you, Dad,” she finally said. “I wish you could wake up and tell me what to do. You always knew what to do.” She got up and left the room. And I stayed there with a broken heart, because I realized something. Sofia wasn’t bad, she was weak. She had let Roberto and Alejandro take control.

She had surrendered her will in exchange for not having to make difficult decisions, but weakness or malice, the result was the same. She was willing to abandon her mother. She was willing to sell everything I had built, and that, in the end, was all that mattered. That night, when Beatriz came over, I told her about Sofia’s visit.

“Maybe we could talk to her,” Beatriz suggested. “Maybe if she knows you’re awake, if she sees you can recover.” “No,” I interrupted. “It’s too risky. We don’t know whose side she’s really on.” “Hey, what if she says something to Roberto?” “But she’s our daughter, Mauricio.” “She was our daughter,” I corrected bitterly. “Now I don’t know what she is.” Beatriz remained silent.

I knew he was right, even though it pained him to admit it. “Did you get the passports yet?” I asked, changing the subject. “Yes, they’re hidden with the money, but not the tickets yet. You said to wait until we knew the exact date.” “Well, I think I’m almost ready. I can wiggle my toes without any problem; my legs are responding.”

Tomorrow I’m going to try moving my arms when no one’s looking. If all goes well, we can leave in a week. Where exactly? I’ve been thinking, Portugal, the city of Porto, has a good expat community, a reasonable cost of living, an excellent healthcare system, and most importantly, no one knows us there; we can start completely from scratch.

And the money—we can’t take five million dollars in cash on a plane. We’re not going to take it all; we’re going to take enough for the first few months. We’ll transfer the rest little by little through different banks to accounts I’m going to open in Portugal. It’s going to take time, but we’re going to do it right without raising any suspicions. Beatriz nodded. Mendoza gave me some documents yesterday.

She said it was important that I read them when I could. What kind of documents? I don’t know. They’re sealed. I have them in my bag. Bring them tomorrow. I need to see them. The next day, when Lupita managed to get Roberto out of the room under the pretext that there was a problem with the hospital bill, Beatriz gave me the envelope. I opened it carefully.

They were legal documents, contracts, and a handwritten letter from Mendoza. The letter read, “Don Mauricio. If you are reading this, it means Mrs. Beatriz trusted me enough to bring you this envelope. I want you to know that I am on your side. I have witnessed many family betrayals in my career, but what your children are attempting is particularly egregious, Bill.”

The attached documents are certified copies of all the deeds to her properties and her business contracts. I have also included a power of attorney that gives Ms. Beatriz full control over all her assets. It is dated three months prior to her accident. It is completely legal and valid.

If Roberto tries anything, this document stops him in his tracks. I have also taken the liberty of temporarily freezing several corporate accounts, citing accounting irregularities that require investigation. This buys him time. Use that time wisely, and if he needs to disappear, as I suspect he is planning, know that he has my full support and discretion.

I’m also enclosing information on reliable contacts in Europe who can help you settle down. Take good care of yourself, Don Mauricio, and look after Mrs. Beatriz. You both deserve peace after so many years of work. With respect and loyalty, Rafael Mendoza. I looked at Beatriz. She had tears in her eyes. “There are still good people in the world,” she whispered.

“Yes,” I replied, “and we’re going to need all the help we can get.” Five more days passed. Five days in which I continued perfecting my performance. Five days in which Beatriz continued preparing our escape, and five days in which Roberto and Sofía grew increasingly impatient. “I don’t understand why she won’t wake up.” I heard Roberto telling the doctor…

Salazar said one morning, “It’s been almost two weeks, isn’t that too long?” “Every patient is different, Mr. Sandoval,” the doctor replied with professional patience. “I’ve seen cases of people who wake up after months.” “A month?” Roberto’s voice sounded alarmed. “You’re saying my father could be like this for months. It’s a possibility. Or he could wake up tomorrow. Like I said, it’s unpredictable.”

After the doctor left, Roberto made a phone call. I heard him clearly. “Alejandro, we have a problem. The old man isn’t waking up, and the doctor says it could take months.” “No, we can’t wait that long. The hospital’s expenses are rising, and Mendoza won’t relinquish control of the corporate accounts.”

Yes, I know you said freezing the accounts was temporary, but we need access. We need another plan. There was a pause as I listened to what Alejandro was saying on the other end. “Are you sure that’s legal?” Roberto asked. Another pause. “Okay, do it, but do it quickly.” He hung up, and I knew time was running out. Whatever Alejandro was planning, we had to move soon.

That night, when Beatriz arrived, I told her about the call. “They must be planning something legal to take control of me,” I said. “They’re probably going to try to have me declared mentally incompetent. That way they could invalidate the power of attorney Mendoza gave you. Can they do that? If they can get doctors to testify that I’m not in my right mind, yes, and with enough money they can get the doctors they need.” Beatriz looked scared.

“What do we do? We’ll leave this week. But you said you needed more time to recover. I’m recovered enough now. I’ve been practicing when no one’s looking. I can walk. Maybe a little unsteady, but I can do it. It’s now or never. Beatriz.” She took my hand. “When?” “The day after tomorrow. Friday. It’s the perfect day.”

Roberto always has a partners’ meeting. On Friday afternoons. Sofia takes the children to their swimming lessons. They’ll be busy. And how do we get out of the hospital? Leave it to me. I have a plan. The next day, Thursday, I asked Lupita to help me with something very specific. I need you to get a men’s nurse’s uniform.

“Plus size B,” I whispered when I finally managed to be alone with her for a few minutes. “What for?” “For tomorrow. I’m leaving here tomorrow, and I need to leave without anyone recognizing me.” Lupita looked at me with concern. “Are you sure it’s ready? Physically, I mean, I’m ready, and if I wait any longer, it’ll be too late.” She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

I’ll get the uniform. Anything else? Yes. I need there to be an emergency on this floor tomorrow around 3 p.m. Something that will send all the nurses and doctors running for the hills. It doesn’t have to be real. It just has to look real. A false alarm. Exactly. Can you do it? Lupita thought for a moment.

Could I accidentally set off the fire alarm at the other end of the hall? That’ll send everyone running. You’ll have maybe five minutes before they realize it’s a false alarm. Five minutes is all I need. That night, Beatriz arrived with a small suitcase. Inside were clothes for me—casual clothes: jeans, a shirt, sneakers, nothing too flashy. “The tickets are bought,” she whispered.

“We leave tomorrow at 8 p.m. from the airport. Direct flight to Madrid and from there a connection to Porto. Did you use your credit card? No, I bought the tickets with cash at a travel agency, just like you said. Good. And the money? I have two suitcases packed in the car with clothes and the cash. Everything we need for the first few months.”

What did you tell Roberto and Sofía? That I was going to spend the day with my sister in Cuernavaca? That I needed to clear my head. Roberto didn’t even ask for details. Sofía told me to have fun. Beatriz’s voice broke a little at that last part. I hugged her as best I could from the hospital bed. I know, my love.

I know it’s difficult, but this is what we have to do. I still can’t believe we’re running away from our own children. We’re not running away from them, we’re saving ourselves from them. There’s a difference. Beatriz wiped away her tears. Are you sure you can walk to the parking lot? I’ll walk as far as it takes. I’ve been practicing.

Last night, when Roberto fell asleep, I got out of bed and paced the room. My legs hurt, but they’ll do. And if something goes wrong, nothing will. Trust me, Beatriz, one last time. Trust me. She kissed me. A long, deep kiss. A kiss that tasted of goodbye.

A farewell to the life we ​​had built, to this city we knew, to this family that had been shattered. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve always loved you, from the first day I saw you in that library. And you are the only real thing in my life, the only thing worth saving.” Friday, the day had arrived.

Roberto arrived early as usual. He sat in his chair by the window, checking his phone. At 11:00 a.m., Sofía came in. “Any changes?” she asked. “None,” Roberto replied, frustrated. “He’s still the same, like a rock. The doctors said we need to be patient.” “I’ve had enough patience, Sofía.”

Alejandro spoke with a lawyer yesterday. We can start guardianship proceedings, declare him legally incapacitated. And does Mom agree to that? We’re not going to ask Mom. She’s very emotional right now. She can’t make objective decisions. Sofia remained silent. Look, Roberto continued. I know this is difficult, but we have to think about the future, about our families, about the children.

Dad built all this for us, didn’t he? Well, now it’s up to us to manage it. I suppose you’re right, Sofia said, though her voice sounded uncertain. At 1 p.m., Roberto left. He had to prepare for his partners’ meeting. Sofia stayed a little longer, but at 2 p.m. she left too. She had to pick up her children. I’ll be back later, Dad, she said before leaving. I love you.

He truly loved me, because love isn’t just about words, it’s about actions. And his actions said something very different. At 3:05, Lupita came into the room. She was carrying a plastic bag. “Here’s the uniform,” she whispered. “And take this too.” She gave me a baseball cap and some sunglasses. Ha. So they won’t recognize him on the security cameras.

You’re an angel, Lupita. I just hope she knows what Don Mauricio is doing. This is very risky. I know, but sometimes you have to risk everything to save what matters. She nodded. At 3 o’clock sharp, I’m activating the alarm. When you hear the siren, you have to move quickly. Go down the emergency stairs. Don’t use the elevator. The stairs will take you directly to the basement parking garage.

His wife told me she’d be waiting for him in a gray Honda CRB near the exit. Thanks, Lupita, for everything. Take good care of yourself. Both of us. He squeezed my hand one last time and left. I was alone in the room. My heart was pounding. The machines around me were beeping normally. Outside, in the hallway, I could hear the usual bustle of the hospital: nurses walking, doctors talking, food carts rolling by.

Everything was normal, everything was calm. I looked at the clock on the wall. 257.3 minutes. I carefully removed the IV line from my arm. The machine monitoring my heart started beeping erratically, but I quickly turned it off. I sat up in bed, my legs were shaking, but they responded. 25:58. I stood up. The floor moved a little under my feet, but I held onto the edge of the bed. I took a deep breath.

I could do this. I had to do it. 259. I opened the plastic bag, took out the nurse’s uniform, removed my hospital gown, and put on the clothes. The pants were a little loose, but they worked. The shirt was my size. I put on the cap and sunglasses. 30. The fire alarm went off in the hallway.

A deafening siren. Shouts, footsteps running. It was now. I opened my bedroom door. The hallway was in total chaos. Nurses running to the other end. Doctors shouting instructions, patients peering out of their doors, confused. No one paid any attention to me.

I was just another nurse in the middle of the chaos. I walked toward the emergency stairs. Every step was an effort. My legs were weak after two weeks in bed, but I kept going. One step, another step, another. I reached the stairwell door and opened it. The sound of the alarm subsided a little. I started down floor by floor. My legs screamed in pain, but I didn’t stop.

Fifth floor, fourth floor, third. On the second floor, I heard voices upstairs. False alarm. It’s a false alarm. Return to your posts. I quickened my pace. I had to get out before they realized I wasn’t in my room. First floor, ground floor, basement. The parking garage door. I opened it.

The fresh air hit my face, the smell of gasoline and concrete, the sound of cars. I looked around for Beatriz. Then I saw it. The gray Honda CRV parked near the exit. The lights flashed twice. It was her. I walked toward the car as fast as I could. Every step was agony, but I didn’t care. I was so close, so close to freedom.

The passenger door opened. Beatriz was there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Mauricio gasped. “Oh my God, you did it.” I got in the car and closed the door. Beatriz started the engine immediately. “Did anyone see us?” she asked as we pulled out of the parking lot. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” We drove through the exit booth.

The security guard didn’t even look at us. He was distracted, probably by the fire alarm. And then we were out on the street, free. Beatriz drove in silence for several minutes. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel. I kept looking in the rearview mirror, expecting to see police lights chasing us.

But there was nothing, just normal Mexico City traffic on a Friday afternoon. “We did it,” I finally whispered. We really did. Beatriz let out a nervous laugh. “We can’t declare victory yet. We still have to get to the airport, go through immigration, get on the plane. We’re going to make it. We’ve already overcome the hardest part.” She drove south, avoiding the main roads. She had planned the route carefully.

Side streets, less traffic, fewer cameras. How long do you think it’ll take them to realize you’re not at the hospital? he asked. It depends if everything goes well, maybe an hour, maybe two. By the time Roberto gets back from his meeting, I should already be reported missing. And if they trace the car, it’s not registered in your name or mine, I reminded him.

You registered it under your maiden name, using an old address. It would be very difficult to trace. Beatriz had thought of everything. My smart, careful wife, who had always been the silent strategist behind my successes. We arrived at our house in Polanco. 40 minutes later. Beatriz parked in the garage and quickly closed the automatic door.

We need to be quick, he said. Take only the absolute essentials. We went into the house, our house. Yeah.