thing she needed.
Not repayment.
Not some perfect apology.
She needed to face them once without lowering her eyes.
A meeting was arranged at a quiet café in Madrid.
Clara would be there.
Two phones would record everything.
Their parents arrived fifteen minutes late.
Their mother moved to kiss Lucía.
Lucía stepped back.
“No.”
Her father frowned.
“After seven years, this is how you greet us?”
Lucía placed a copy of the bank transfer on the table.
“In 2018, you told me Clara needed emergency surgery.”
She continued calmly.
“I
