At my husband’s funeral, my son squeezed my hand. And he whispered, “You’re no longer part of this family.”

Without releasing me, Diego signaled Eduardo’s lawyer, Mr. Ramírez, who stood a few steps away.

Ramírez opened his briefcase. He pulled out a sealed envelope.

“The will,” Diego said aloud.

I recognized Eduardo’s signature. And the notary seal.

Diego took it as if it had always been his.

Then he reached into my bag.

“The keys,” he added.

I had them all: the front door, the garage, the office.

“This is a mistake,” I managed to say.

Ramírez avoided my eyes.