He opened the brown folder and carefully laid out its contents – papers, stamps, signatures – all arranged wit transfer of powers of attorney.”
I was standing right behind him—close enough to hear every word, close enough to see the manager nod. But he didn’t turn around.
“It’s for the good of all of us,” Álvaro added. “My wife is under enormous pressure. So I’ll take over the finances.”
I wanted to say something—to shout that I’d never signed anything; that my memory was perfect; that I remembered every single euro I’d earned cleaning, sewing late into the night, and giving up vacations so my family would have everything they needed. But I remained silent. I listened. I observed.
The manager replied cautiously, “These types of situations are always delicate, Mr. Morales.”
