“No, you said six.”
The room goes very still.
You do not speak.
Accounting teaches patience. If numbers don’t match, you let people explain until they make the hole bigger.
Luis turns fully toward Karla.
“Karla.”
She stands.
“This is not the time.”
“When did you find out?”
She grabs her phone.
“I’m not doing this with him watching.”
“With him?” you repeat quietly.
Neither of them answers.
Luis reaches for the paper on the table, but you pull it back.
“I want both of you out of my house within thirty days.”
Karla laughs once.
“You can’t do that.”
You look at her.
“Yes, I can.”
Luis slams his hand on the table.
“This is my home too.”
“No,” you say. “It is the house your mother and I bought. You are a guest who forgot he was one.”
His face twists.
“I’m your son.”
“Yes. And somehow, that made me tolerate behavior I would have called theft from anyone else.”
Karla points at you.
“You’re really throwing a pregnant woman into the street?”
You look at her stomach.
Then at her face.
“No. I am giving two adults thirty days to become responsible for the child they made.”
Luis looks like he wants to say something cruel.
Then your phone rings.
It is your neighbor, Silvia from next door.
You almost ignore it, but something makes you answer.
“Don Ernesto,” she whispers, “there are two men outside asking if you’re home. They said they’re from a moving company.”
Your eyes stay on Luis.
“What moving company?”
“They have boxes. One says Residencias Doradas.”
The kitchen disappears around you.
So it was not just an online charge.
They had scheduled your removal.
Today.
You stand slowly.
“Thank you, Silvia. Please call my lawyer if they try to enter.”
Luis says, “Who was that?”
You do not answer him.
You walk to the front door.
