Mariana rises more slowly, with the dignity of a woman who built half her identity on appearing elegant even in disaster. “Alejandro was ill near the end,” she says. “He was medicated. He was emotional. He may have been manipulated.”
You almost laugh.
Manipulated.
Your father was a man who could make a room full of executives sit in silence with a single glance. He was ruthless enough to build a shipping empire and cold enough to let his own daughter grow up feeling like an afterthought inside her own home. There were many things Don Alejandro Herrera could be.
Easily manipulated was not one of them.
Ricardo’s voice hardens. “The will was updated eight months ago. Don Alejandro was of sound mind. There are medical certifications, witnesses, and recordings. If anyone wishes to contest it, that is of course their legal right. But I would advise caution.”
Valeria’s lips part slightly. “Recordings?”
“Your father anticipated conflict,” Ricardo says.
That lands like a stone dropped into deep water.
Your father anticipated conflict.
