PART 2
Inside the envelope there were no love letters.
There were no pictures.
There was no evidence of a betrayal.
There were notary papers.
Martin pulled out the first blade with tense hands, still breathing like a locked bull.
He read the header.
“Purchase of Sale Contract.”
Then he saw his name.
Martin Hernandez Lopez.
And next door, hers.
Maribel Cruz Hernandez.
Then he read the address.
A land of 120 square meters in Tecámac, State of Mexico.
Martin blinked.
He read again.
The blade seemed to mock his anger.
“What’s this?” he murmured.
Maribel wiped a tear with the back of her hand.
It’s our land.
He didn't answer.
Not because he didn't want to, but because he suddenly found no voice.
Maribel pulled another leaf out of the envelope.
