I walked over to him, my heart heavy with concern. “Don Raúl, what’s wrong?”
He wiped his eyes, his hands trembling. “They want to take everything from me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “My nephews—they want to put me in a nursing home and sell the house. They say I can’t live alone anymore.”
My heart sank. I had always known that Don Raúl had a large, close-knit family, but I had no idea they could be so cruel. He had worked his whole life to build up that house, and now his own flesh and blood wanted to take it from him.
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to reassure him. “We’ll figure something out.”
He shook his head, his eyes still clouded with tears. “I don’t know what to do anymore, child. They’ve made up their minds. I have nothing left.”
