The judge ruled clearly: my parents had been living there only because we allowed it—and that permission was revoked.

They were ordered to leave.

Months later, we sold the apartment.

With that money, we bought a bright new home in Leganés—one with space for Alba, and peace I had never known.

In the end, my family didn’t just lose a house.

They lost control.

They had always believed I would stay silent, keep paying, and accept whatever scraps they gave me.

They were wrong.

They made that mistake once—on the worst possible day.

And once was enough.