“Adrian… my son… Where are you? Are you still alive? My heart feels that misfortune has overtaken you…” she whispered in the solitude.
Isabel staggered, but the stranger gently caught her, keeping her from falling. In an instant, she understood: the son for whom she had given up her freedom had betrayed her. And worst of all: no one knew where he was now.
Was he still alive? Or had misfortune already reached him? The man sighed, took out a card, and held it out firmly.
“My name is Victor Morales. I was the lawyer in some of your cases. If you really want to know the truth, come see me.
But be prepared: what you discover will not be easy to bear.”
Isabel clutched the card with trembling hands. For the first time in years, a spark ignited inside her: this wasn’t the end of the road. There was still a route to the truth.
The night was endless. Thoughts raced, images from the past returned: the rosy-cheeked boy who said, “Mom, I’ll always take care of you,” and then the young man who chose the darkest shortcut. She had carried her guilt, but now she understood: the sin never disappeared, it was only postponed.
And the punishment had already caught up with her. The next morning, with slow but determined steps, Isabel headed toward the city, to the lawyer’s office. The streets seemed strange to her, people hurried by, but a new strength beat in her heart.
Víctor Morales greeted her with respect. A voluminous file awaited her on the desk. She opened it, and the first pages took her breath away: forged contracts, enormous debts, testimonies about disappearances, her son’s name linked to dangerous people.
Isabel put her hand to her chest. There was no more room for illusions. The son for whom she had sacrificed her freedom had himself chosen a path of no return.
And yet… she felt the fight was not over. Because, deep in her heart, a voice whispered: “Even if the son falls, it is the mother’s duty to uphold the truth.”
