The front doorbell rang.
All three froze.
Then someone knocked hard.
“Mariana?” Anika called. “Open up.”
Rodrigo’s eyes widened. “You called people?”
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
“No. I am witnessed.”
Mariana walked to the door and opened it. Anika entered first, still in jeans and a black coat, eyes immediately taking in the room. Behind her stood Marcus Brooks in plain clothes, broad-shouldered and calm, with a badge clipped discreetly at his belt. A third person followed: Claire Whitaker, attorney, wearing a trench coat over a suit and carrying a leather briefcase.
Rodrigo went pale.
Teresa pointed at them. “This is a family matter.”
Anika looked at the paint on the wall, the books on the floor, the soup in the sink, Mariana’s exhausted face. “Funny how family matters always need women to bleed quietly.”
Marcus stepped in last and closed the door. “Ma’am, nobody is here to cause trouble. We’re here to make sure nobody gets hurt and that everyone understands their rights.”
Teresa snorted. “Rights? In my son’s home?”
Claire opened her briefcase. “Actually, it is Ms. Vasquez’s home. I have the documents here.”
Rodrigo looked at Mariana with something close to panic now. “You brought a lawyer?”
“You brought your mother.”
The sentence was quiet, but it landed hard.
Claire laid a formal notice on the table. “Mr. Sloane, because you are a spouse residing in the property, removal is not immediate without proper legal procedure unless there is violence or threat. However, Ms. Vasquez is the sole legal owner. She is documenting damage to the property, interference with her access to food, hostile conduct, and unauthorized occupancy by Mrs. Teresa Sloane, who has no tenant rights and may be asked to leave tonight.”
Teresa laughed too loudly. “You cannot throw out a mother.”
Marcus said, “She can ask a guest to leave.”
