Chapter 5
That afternoon, Maria and I took a cab to Ian's law firm.
The building was an impressive office tower, sleek and modern.
Ian's office was on the sixteenth floor.
Through the glass walls, we could see the whole city spread out below.
Ian looked younger than I had imagined, probably in his early thirties.
He wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a scholarly appearance, but a maturity and decisiveness in his speech and actions belied his age.
"Aunt Maria, Mrs. Sanchez, please take a seat," he said, pouring us coffee.
Then he cut straight to the chase. "Mrs. Sanchez, my aunt provided me with a rough idea of your situation over the phone.
"Now, I'd like to hear it from you in detail.
"Especially the specifics of your financial contributions."
I nodded, steadied my nerves, and shared everything I had done over the past ten years.
I began by explaining how I had managed to gather the 600 thousand-dollar down payment.
Then I described how I used my pension to pay the 3 thousand-dollar mortgage, month after month, year after year.
I spoke slowly and calmly, as if recounting someone else's life.
But with each word, I felt a sharp pang in my heart.
All those hurts and disappointments I tried to bury began to resurface.
Ian listened patiently, occasionally jotting notes in his notebook. He never interrupted.
When I finished, he looked up and adjusted his glasses. "Mrs. Sanchez, based on what you've shared and the laws here...
"I believe your rights can certainly be protected."
His words eased my anxiety a lot. "First, regarding the 600 thousand-dollar down payment...
"Do you have any transfer records?"
I nodded. "Yes. I sold an old apartment I owned and used all my savings to cover the rest.
"I have the sales contract and the bank transfer receipts."
Ian nodded approvingly. "Excellent. That's the most straightforward proof.
"Next, about the 3 thousand-dollar mortgage payments you've made every month for the past ten years...
"You said you have printed bank statements for each year, right?"
"Yes, they're at the apartment where I used to live," I replied.
"Good," Ian said, circling something in his notebook. "This is crucial evidence. We need to secure it.
"With these two pieces, we'll have a complete chain of evidence.
"That's enough to establish you as the one who really paid for this apartment."
"So, can I get my money back?" I asked carefully, my nerves evident. That was the thing that mattered to me most.
Ian smiled. "Mrs. Sanchez, you might end up receiving even more than you anticipate."
"What do you mean?" I blinked, confused.
Ian explained, "There are two approaches we can take here.
"First, we can treat this as a loan.
"It means that the money you've contributed would be seen as a loan to your daughter.
"We can file a lawsuit to recover the total amount you've invested.
"That includes the 600 thousand dollar down payment, along with everything you've paid towards the mortgage over the last ten years.
"A 3 thousand dollar mortgage each month adds up to 36 thousand dollars a year.
"Over ten years, that's 360 thousand dollars.
"Plus the 600 thousand dollar down payment...
"That's a total of 960 thousand dollars."
That amount made me catch my breath.
I had never done the calculations before.
I only knew that I had been contributing more and more.
But I had never truly grasped how much I had given.
This represented almost my entire life savings.
"And that's not all," Ian continued. "We can also claim interest for the time your money was tied up.
"When calculated at the bank's current loan rate, that's a considerable amount."
My heart raced. "What about the second option?" I inquired.
"The second option involves fighting for ownership of the apartment," Ian said, his expression turning serious. "We can file a lawsuit to have the contract declared invalid.
"We'll argue that the arrangement of purchasing the apartment under your daughter's name is invalid, as it was detrimental to you.
"Then we can request the court to transfer the apartment to your name.
"In other words, the apartment could potentially belong to you."
The apartment could be transferred to me?
I had never allowed myself to consider that possibility.
After all, the deed was under Celia's name.
"Mr. Richter, is that p-possible?" I asked.
"It is definitely a possibility," Ian said. "Cases where someone buys an apartment under another person's name are common in court.
"The verdict ultimately hinges on the evidence.
"The evidence you possess now is quite compelling.
"Additionally, the fact that your daughter sent you to a nursing home raises significant moral concerns.
"While that isn't a direct legal basis for the verdict, it could influence the judge's discretion.
"Judges are humans, too. They'll consider public morals and societal norms.
"The way she abandoned her own mother? No judge is likely to sympathize with her."
Now I got it.
Celia's ruthlessness had turned into my greatest advantage.
How ironic.
Ian added, "Mrs. Sanchez, you need to make a choice.
"Do you want the money, or do you prefer the apartment?"
He tossed the question my way.
I began to truly consider my options.
Money or the apartment?
If I opted for the money, including interest, it would exceed 1 million dollars.
That amount could secure a peaceful life for me.
Yet, the apartment was now valued at over 2.5 million dollars.
And its worth was still rising.
More importantly, it represented the place where I had invested half of my life.
I had transformed it from a cold, empty shell into a warm home with my own two hands.
I couldn't bear to part with it.
But I surely wasn't about to let Celia get it so easily.
If she wanted it that badly, I wasn't going to let her have it.
I looked up at Ian.
My eyes filled with unprecedented determination.
"Mr. Richter," I said, my voice firm, "I want the apartment."
Ian smiled, as if he had anticipated my response. "Okay.
"Then we have a clear objective.
"Our first step is to gather the evidence.
"We need to get those bank statements.
"Let's act fast before anything unexpected occurs.
"Your daughter might not yet realize what's happening, but if she catches on and destroys those records, we'll be in serious trouble."
I nodded. "I'll go get them today."
"No," Ian and Maria said in unison, stopping me.
"You can't go alone," Ian said. "Your safety comes first."
His tone brooked no argument. "Legally, Celia has full capacity for civil conduct.
"But her behavior yesterday indicated a level of impulsiveness and aggression.
"We can't rule out the possibility that she might do something harmful to you if she loses control."
Maria nodded vigorously. "Ian's absolutely right.
"Laura, you really shouldn't risk it."
"B-But what about those statements?" I asked, panic creeping in. "What if she gets rid of them?"
"That's exactly why we need to hurry," Ian said, his fingers tapping the desk like a metronome. "We're heading out right now."
"Right now?" I echoed in shock.
Ian replied, "Yep, right now.
"We need to move fast...
"To catch her off guard.
"Let's grab those documents before she realizes they're important."
I looked at him. His sharp and decisive demeanor made me feel a sense of safety I hadn't experienced in a long time.
"But it's not safe for me to go by myself," I said.
"Of course, you won't be going alone," Ian assured me, reaching for the phone. "Hector, please come in."