Chapter 3 - The Locksmith and the Law
At seven o'clock the following morning, I didn't wait for anyone to wake up.
I dressed in a sleek charcoal business suit, packed my essential legal documents—including the original property deed, tax receipts, and bank statements—into my briefcase, and quietly walked out of the apartment.
My first stop was not my advertising agency, but the law offices of Sofía Ramírez in the nearby Reforma district. Sofía was a formidable fifty-year-old property and family law specialist who had handled my mother's estate division five years ago.
Over a mug of hot black coffee, I laid out the entire timeline: the initial three-month agreement, the two-year squatting, the property damage caused by Iván, the unpaid debts, the emotional abuse, and finally, the chain on the refrigerator.
Sofía reviewed my property deed and tax documents, nodding slowly.
“The legal situation regarding the property is entirely in your favor, Mariana,” Sofía said, setting the papers down. “You purchased this apartment before marriage using sole pre-marital assets and inheritance funds. Under Mexican civil law in Mexico City, property acquired before marriage remains exclusive property unless explicitly transferred, which you never did.”
“What about Daniel?” I asked. “His mother claimed he owns half.”
“Nonsense,” Sofía scoffed smoothly. “Unless you signed a marital agreement converting the property into community assets—which you confirmed you didn’t—Daniel has zero legal claim to the title. He has a right of spousal residence while married, but his mother and brother are legally considered unauthorized guests.”
“How do I get them out?”
“We file two things today,” Sofía declared, pulling out a yellow legal pad. “First, a formal Notice of Revocation of Permission to Occupy for Teresa and Iván, giving them five business days to vacate. Second, a petition for legal separation and divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences and psychological abuse.”
“Five days?” I asked, frustrated. “Can’t I just change the locks today?”
Sofía gave me a sharp, experienced look. “If you change the locks while Daniel still resides there as your legal husband, his attorney could claim an illegal lock-out or constructive eviction, which complicates the divorce proceedings. We do this by the book, Mariana. Clean, ruthless, and legally flawless.”
“What should I do right now?”
“Go to work. Let me handle the official process servers. By three o’clock this afternoon, Teresa and Iván will be officially served with legal eviction notices delivered by a court officer.”
I left Sofía’s office feeling a strange combination of cold dread and profound liberation.
When I arrived at the agency, I threw myself into my work, approving ad campaigns and managing team leads. But at 3:15 p.m., my phone exploded with phone calls.
It was Daniel. He called seven times in four minutes. When I didn't answer, he sent a flurry of frantic text messages:
“Mariana! What the hell is this?! A court officer just showed up at the door with an eviction notice for my mom and Iván!” “Mom is hyperventilating! She’s sixty-two years old, Mariana! How could you do this to my family?!” “Call me right now or I swear to God I’m coming to your office!”
I typed a concise reply:
“Do not come to my office. Speak to my attorney, Sofía Ramírez. Her contact details are listed on the notice.”
Five minutes later, my phone rang again. This time it was an unknown number. I answered it on speakerphone at my desk.
“Mariana, you heartless monster!” Teresa’s screeching voice blasted through the speaker so loudly my assistant outside my glass office turned her head. “You think a piece of paper from a court can throw me out of my son’s home?! We built this family! You are going to burn in hell for treating us like dogs!”
“Mrs. Teresa,” I said, keeping my voice utterly devoid of emotion. “The process server gave you five days. I suggest you use that time to pack your boxes and help Iván find an apartment he can afford. Goodbye.”
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I ended the call, blocked the unknown number, and requested my agency’s security detail to place Daniel, Teresa, and Iván on the building's visitor ban list.
They thought the padlock was the ultimate display of power. They were about to learn what real power looked like when backed by the law.
