“I can,” she replied quietly. “Not for long… but long enough.”
Carmen studied her for a moment.
“You’re different.”
Lucía turned her gaze back to the city.
“I have to be.”
Later that day, a lawyer arrived.
Not Alejandro’s.
Hers.
A woman in her forties, composed and precise, carrying a thin folder that looked far too light for the weight it held.
“I’m here on your request,” she said, taking a seat. “And I’ll be direct—we don’t have much time.”
Lucía nodded. “Then don’t waste any.”
The lawyer opened the folder.
“Your financial accounts have been… gradually restructured over the past six months.”
Lucía’s eyes didn’t move.
“I assumed as much.”
“Properties transferred. Access permissions modified. Power of attorney documents signed under your name.”
Carmen stiffened. “While she was sedated?”
The lawyer met her gaze.
“That’s what we’re here to prove.”
Lucía exhaled slowly.
“He wasn’t just trying to control my treatment,” she said. “He was preparing for after.”
“After your death,” the lawyer confirmed calmly.
The room went still.
“But he made a mistake,” Lucía added.
The lawyer raised an eyebrow. “Which was?”
Lucía looked at the papers.
“He assumed I would never wake up… and if I did, that I wouldn’t remember.”
Across town, Alejandro wasn’t waiting anymore.
He was acting.
Inside a private office, he stood across from a man flipping through documents.
“I need this delayed,” Alejandro said sharply. “Weeks, at least.”
“That’s not how this works anymore,” the man replied. “This isn’t internal. Authorities are involved.”
Alejandro’s voice dropped.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
The man looked up.
“Oh, I understand perfectly. That’s why I’m stepping away.”
He slid the folder back across the desk.
“You should consider doing the same.”
Back in the hospital, Lucía signed her first document.
Her hand trembled—but the signature was clear.
Valid.
Undeniable.
Carmen watched closely.
“That changes your legal standing,” she said.
“It reclaims it,” Lucía corrected.
That evening, something unexpected happened.
Security arrived at the hospital floor again—but this time, they weren’t watching.
They were escorting.
A familiar figure stepped out of the elevator.
Alejandro.
But this version of him was different.
No polished confidence.
No controlled smile.
Just tension… barely contained.
“I have the right to see my wife,” he said firmly.
“Not anymore,” security replied.
Lucía heard the voice from inside her room.
She didn’t panic.
She didn’t hide.
