Each step toward the door felt like walking through broken glass. At the threshold, I paused, hoping—just for a second—to see the little girl who once hugged me tightly and called me the best mother in the world.
She was gone.
“Happy birthday, Sofia,” I said softly.
And I walked away.
That night, in my small apartment, I couldn’t sleep. I opened an old box filled with receipts, records, and documents. Not out of suspicion—just habit. After teaching mathematics for nearly four decades, numbers had always grounded me.
But that night, they revealed the truth.
Medical bills. Education. Weddings. The house. The clinic. The car. The children’s schooling. Endless loans.
When I added everything up, the total stunned me: nearly five million pesos.
Five million… spent chasing love.
And still, my daughter had wished me dead.
By dawn, something inside me had shifted. Not anger—clarity.
I blocked Sofia. Then Ryan. Then I called the bank.
“I’d like to close our joint account,” I said.
Later, I met with Attorney Delgado, an old friend of my late husband. After hearing everything, he reviewed the documents carefully.