“Are you saying no?” her mother asked, stunned.

“Yes. No.”

“You’re cruel!” her mother cried.

“And you excluded me from every decision,” Lucia replied.

Sofia slammed the table. “You’re just jealous because they love me more.”

Lucia stood calmly. “If they love you so much, let them live with you. You’ve got four bedrooms.”

She turned to Andre. “We’re leaving.”

Two weeks later, Lucia’s phone buzzed—her security system had detected movement at her vacation home. The security company called.

“Did you authorize the entry, Mrs. Herrera?”

“No. Call the police.”

When she arrived, her parents were on the porch with suitcases.

“Lucia, thank God,” her father pleaded. “Tell them it’s a misunderstanding.”

“They don’t have permission,” she told the officer firmly.

“Do you want to press trespassing charges?”

“No. But they have to leave.”

Afterward, she changed the locks and had their belongings moved to storage.

Days later, her mother blasted her online as a heartless daughter. Tired of silence, Lucia posted her side. Support poured in.

Then came word from a cousin: Sofia had refused to take them in too. Their mother now had to work full-time to afford a small apartment.

Lucia felt torn between pity and relief. Andre squeezed her hand. “That’s because you’re a good person. But now you finally know the truth.”

For the first time, Lucia stopped chasing approval she would never get. When her mother left a voicemail begging forgiveness, she deleted it.

Maybe one day. But not today.

Today, she was choosing herself.