Moving to Spain and Building a Home – Our Experience with AMAY Properties
CHAPTER 4
By sharing our experience, our intention is not to dissuade people from buying a property in Spain. Spain is a beautiful country with extraordinary people, rich culture, and many reputable developers who deliver quality homes with professionalism and care. But our story stands as a reminder that not every experience unfolds as promised.
The dream of owning a home abroad should never come at the cost of prolonged stress, emotional exhaustion, or financial vulnerability. Unfortunately, our journey demonstrates how easily optimism can be eroded when expectations are met with resistance, silence, and a lack of accountability.
This story exists for one reason only, to help future buyers make informed decisions before committing their life savings.
What We Wish We Had Known
Looking back, there are lessons we wish someone had shared with us, lessons learned not through theory, but through lived experience.
If you are considering purchasing a property in Spain, particularly off-plan, we strongly encourage you to consider the following.
1. Conduct Independent and Thorough Research. Do not rely solely on marketing material, sales offices, or reputation by association.
a. Research the developer independently
b. Seek out recent buyer experiences, not curated testimonials
c. Speak directly to existing homeowners where possible
d. Look beyond the finished show home, focus on after-sales experiences
A polished brochure does not guarantee professional conduct once contracts are signed.
2. Verify Legal Documentation Yourself. Never assume that documentation will “be sorted later”. Before completing any purchase, ensure that: –
a. The Habitation Certificate (or its legal equivalent) is issued
b. Final works certificates have been approved by the Town Hall
c. Any promises relating to future completion are clearly documented
Letters of undertaking may sound reassuring, but they are not a substitute for completion. If a property is not legally habitable at handover, the burden often falls on the buyer, not the builder.
3. Choose Legal Representation Carefully, and Stay Involved. A lawyer is essential, but no lawyer will care about your home as much as you do.
a. Ensure your lawyer specialises in Spanish property law
b. Ask direct questions and insist on clear answers
c. Request copies of all filings, submissions, and approvals
d. Do not disengage from the process simply because you have legal representation
Legal professionals guide, they do not manage construction realities.
4. Document Everything, From Day One. Keep meticulous records:
a. Emails
b. WhatsApp messages
c. Photographs
d. Site visit notes
e. Dates, names, and promises made
Documentation becomes invaluable if disputes arise. Memories fade. Paper trails do not.
5. Trust Your Instincts; they will not fail you, and Act Early. If something feels wrong, it usually is. Repeated delays, evasive answers, shifting explanations, or resistance to transparency are not “just part of the process.” They are signals. Ignoring them only compounds future difficulty.
Address concerns early. Escalate when necessary. Silence benefits no one.
A Final Word to Buyers
We did not enter this process looking for conflict. We wanted a home, not a dispute, not a documentary, not years of stress. Our hope is that by sharing what we experienced, others will be better prepared, better protected, and better informed.
Spain deserves homebuyers who feel safe, respected, and supported, and homebuyers deserve developers who honour their commitments, not just in words, but in actions.
Another Year of Hope, Another Year of Betrayal
Moving to Spain was meant to mark the beginning of a new chapter in our lives, one defined by sunlight, balance, creativity, and peace of mind. It was supposed to be a time of renewal. A slower rhythm. Space to travel, to write, and to enjoy the simple privileges that come with choosing a new country to call home.
That was the plan. That was the dream.
But almost immediately after purchasing a villa from Amay Properties, that dream began to unravel. Instead of settling into a life of calm and possibility, we found ourselves plunged into a prolonged state of uncertainty and vigilance. What should have been a joyful transition became a daily exercise in stress management, chasing updates, clarifying contradictions, and defending agreements that had already been agreed, signed, paid for, confirmed and confirmed again.
This condition did not last weeks or months. It persisted year after year, and even when we believed the relationship with the developer might finally be coming to an end, it became clear that closure was not going to arrive quickly, cleanly, or with dignity.
The Normalisation of the Unacceptable
One of the most disturbing aspects of this experience was not just what happened to us, but how often it was casually dismissed by others.
There exists a widely accepted and troubling narrative among some foreign residents in Spain: that when non-nationals are overcharged, misled, delayed, or treated dismissively by builders, tradespeople, service providers, or even professionals, it is brushed aside with familiar phrases: “Ah well, it’s Spain”, or “What do you expect, its Spain?”.
These statements are often delivered with a shrug, as if inconvenience, stress, and diminished standards are simply part of the price of living abroad.
I reject that mindset entirely. Standards Should Not Be Conditional, I expect honour, integrity, and I expect respect. To be treated with professional standards that apply equally, regardless of nationality, language, or country of origin.
To mere suggest that immigrants or foreign buyers should quietly accept sub-standard treatment from companies that actively market themselves as professional, reputable, and premium is not cultural sensitivity, it is resignation. And resignation enables poor behaviour to continue unchecked.
Why should any company be considered beyond accountability simply because it operates within a system unfamiliar to the buyer? Why should stress, miscommunication, or prolonged delay be treated as an unspoken condition of doing business? and why should silence be expected from those who experience it?
The Purpose of This Account
As stated earlier, the purpose of this story is not to instruct, accuse, or dictate conclusions. It is to document.
This account reflects our personal experience, perceptions, and opinions, supported by contemporaneous records and correspondence. It exists so that others, from anywhere in the world, can read what we have encountered with Amay Properties and decide for themselves whether they are prepared to accept similar risks.
If people are informed, they can prepare. If they are aware, they can protect themselves. Without that awareness, the process can feel, as it did for us, like navigating a system that is unpredictable, opaque, and difficult to challenge. At times, it resembled what was described to us more than once as a kind of “wild west” environment, where responsibility is easily deflected and accountability slow to arrive.
That description is not an accusation. It is an expression of how the experience felt from the position of the consumer.
Hope, Repeated — and Repeatedly Undermined
Each year brought renewed hope that matters would finally be resolved. Each year ended with that hope quietly eroded. Promises were made. Timelines were suggested. Reassurances were offered, and yet, a meaningful resolution remained elusive.
This cycle, hope followed by disappointment, is one of the most exhausting aspects of prolonged disputes. It drains energy, clouds judgment, and tests patience in ways few people anticipate when they begin what should be a straightforward property purchase.
This story is not about bitterness. It is about clarity. It exists to challenge the idea that buyers must simply endure poor treatment in silence, particularly when they are far from their home country and navigating unfamiliar systems.
Respect is not cultural. Integrity is not optional, and accountability should never depend on where someone comes from.
2025: Hope Repeating Itself
The year 2025 began exactly where the previous three years had ended, still entangled with Amay Properties. Once again, it was characterised by waiting, expecting, hoping, and, regrettably, even praying that progress might finally materialise.
As with the preceding years, the early weeks of January passed without anything tangible occurring. On 10 January, I emailed our lawyer, Tanash Utamchandani, requesting an update. His reply arrived three days later, a delay that, in fairness, might ordinarily be understandable given the post-holiday period. He advised that he was expecting to meet with representatives of AmayProperties soon. At the time, this sounded cautiously promising.
I responded on 14 January. Another three days passed. There was no reply. Silence resumed until 29 January, when Tanash Utamchandani informed us that Amay’s lawyers wished to resolve the matter but were still awaiting instructions from their client. Based on our prior experience, this explanation felt uncomfortably familiar, a recurring refrain that had accompanied many previous delays.
Later that same day, Tanash Utamchandani advised that Amay’s lawyers were now in possession of the Habitation Certificate and were seeking a date to complete the outstanding works, including the long-awaited bathroom installation.
In theory, this should have been good news, and objectively, it was. We had waited seven months for confirmation of either item. Yet the relief was immediately tempered by a new and very real concern: the prospect of allowing contractors back into our home, contractors whose involvement over the previous three years had caused significant stress and emotional strain. By this stage, trust had been eroded to the point where even “progress” felt threatening rather than reassuring.
A Missed Opportunity to Resolve Matters
Through our lawyer, we made what we considered a reasonable and proportionate proposal. We offered AMAY Properties the opportunity to resolve matters amicably through:
• a simple apology, and
• a modest gesture of compensation to demonstrate genuine intent.
In return, we were prepared to absorb the remaining costs ourselves and bring the matter to a close. That proposal did not lead to a resolution. Instead, communication once again stalled.
On 3 February, I contacted Tanash Utamchandani seeking an update. His reply arrived eight days later, on 11 February, advising that Amay were requesting a date to carry out the works. We immediately submitted the final snag list and again requested clarity on timing, duration, and scope, information we had been seeking consistently for months.
At some point thereafter, Amay indicated that they had not received the snag list or that it had not reached them. Whether this was a failure of transmission or internal communication, the effect was the same: further confusion and further delay.
Around this time, we also received the Acta de Inspección, which we were advised would allow us to collect the Habitation Certificate. As events later demonstrated, this understanding was not entirely accurate, a matter that would become clearer as the year progressed.
Waiting Without Progress
On 18 February, we were informed that AMAY’s lawyers were requesting an inspection date. Our concerns at this point were neither new nor unreasonable:
We still had no clarity on what work would be carried out
No indication of how long it would take
No confirmation of who would be responsible
Despite repeatedly raising these questions through our lawyer, they remained unanswered. Nevertheless, in an effort to move matters forward, we agreed to an inspection and provided for the convenience of Amay, a wide range of availability, offering multiple dates between 21 and 29 February, from 10 am to 3 pm.
For nine consecutive days, we remained at home, waiting. No one from AMAY Properties arrived.
On 27 February, Tanash Utamchandani wrote to us:
“I have asked them to specify the works to carry out, and they are not sure… so they will contact Amay for that and also know how long the works will take. The Layers agree that the snag list are minor issue’s and Amay should not have a problem addressing them.
In any case, they are insisting on a specific day and time to start moving this forward. Which would be the best day for you for next week?”
Yet by early March, there was still no progress. I contacted Tanash Utamchandani again. He responded:
“What I can say is that the paperwork issued by the Town Hall is at the moment in order, so we are progressing after they have remedied the application. Now they must conclude the pending work.
I just got a call from their Lawyers, and their client has not given them an answer yet. What they are telling me is that they have third-party constructors and have to confirm the date and timing. Also, they want their personal technician to inspect the snag list damages in person. I requested an immediate answer to our questions, so I expect a reply today o tomorrow.
Whatever has to be done will be at an agreed day and time and in front of you, so you will always be there. In any case, I expect for this month the work to be solved”.
By this point, we had heard similar assurances many times before. Hope, once again, was being asked to repeat itself.
On 10 March, at 7:54 pm, I received a telephone call from Tanash Utamchandani, advising that a meeting would take place at our villa on the 24th, at 8:00 am, for the purpose of commencing the outstanding works. On the surface, this sounded like progress. In reality, it felt like déjà vu.
During that call, I voiced my concerns openly and clearly. These concerns were not abstract or theoretical; they were shaped by three years of unfulfilled commitments, missed timelines, shifting explanations, and the cumulative emotional strain that accompanies prolonged uncertainty. We were being asked, yet again, to place blind faith in a process that had consistently failed to deliver, without any meaningful safeguards, defined scope, or reliable timeline.
There was no written schedule. No confirmation of duration. No clarity on who would attend or what would be completed. We were simply expected to trust — again.
It was during this same conversation that Tanash Utamchandani informed me he would not be present at the meeting. In that moment, my confidence in him as our legal representative collapsed entirely.
After everything that had occurred, after months of delays, unanswered questions, and unresolved issues, his absence felt less like a scheduling choice and more like abandonment. Legal representation, particularly in a situation as protracted and sensitive as this, is not merely about paperwork. It is about presence, advocacy, and accountability. That sense of representation evaporated in a single sentence.
Request for Correspondence and a Growing Unease
In the days that followed, I formally requested a complete transcript of all correspondence that Tanash Utamchandani had received from Amay Properties and their legal representatives. I explained clearly that this request was not adversarial, but practical. I needed full clarity and accuracy in order to properly understand the history of communications and to ensure our account was complete. Despite this, he appeared reluctant to comply.
After repeated requests over the course of five days, he eventually sent what he described as all correspondence received from Amay. What arrived, however, consisted of only a small handful of emails. From my perspective, this raised serious concerns.
There were only two possible explanations. One was that very little communication had taken place between the parties over an extended period, or, that correspondence had gone unanswered, unshared, or otherwise omitted. Neither explanation inspired confidence.
I continued to request the remaining emails, asking simply for transparency. No further documentation was provided. At that point, it became clear to me that continuing under the existing legal arrangement was no longer appropriate.
A Necessary Change of Legal Representation
I began seeking alternative legal representation and was CHAPAPRIA NAVARRO Y ASOCIADOS by a businessman we had come to know. We arranged a meeting with Tatiana Tsur on Friday, the 14th, and after discussion, we formally engaged her and her firm that day.
From the outset, the difference in approach was immediately apparent. She acted decisively, professionally, and without hesitation. She promptly notified Tanash Utamchandani that her firm would be assuming responsibility for the case and formally informed Amay’s legal representatives of the change.
This transition was handled with clarity and courtesy. Coincidentally, and notably, on that same day, the 14th, Tanash Utamchandani emailed me to confirm that works were scheduled to commence on the 24th. Once again, I used this opportunity to request the full email transcripts, emphasising that I required them solely for clarity and accuracy.
His response was unexpected. He stated that the information was sensitive and that he did not want his name published. In an effort to resolve this impasse, I gave him my word that if he provided the requested documentation, I would omit his name from our account entirely. Despite that assurance, the information was never provided.
I wrote to him one final time, reiterating my request for the correspondence and explaining, once again, that this was about transparency and understanding, not attribution or blame.
In that same message, I also suggested that he consider refunding the fees we had paid, as we felt his service had fallen short of what we reasonably expected given the duration, complexity, and seriousness of the matter. His reply, which I perceived as unnecessarily aggressive in tone, marked the definitive end of our professional relationship.
Legal representation is built on confidence, transparency, and advocacy. When those elements disappear, continuing the relationship serves no one. By mid-March 2025, after three years of delays and disappointment, and after exhausting every reasonable avenue for resolution, we were forced to accept a difficult truth – The system we had trusted, legal, professional, and procedural, had repeatedly failed to protect us.
But there was still hope, I believed in our new Lawyer. I believed in Tatiana Tsur.
A Comparison of Legal Engagements
During the entire period that Tanash Utamchandani acted on our behalf, his direct engagement with us was limited. We met with him only once, on the day we initially instructed him. Over the course of several months, we had two telephone calls, and email responses were often delayed, and on some occasions, not received at all.
By contrast, the difference following our engagement with Tatiana on 14 March was immediate and striking.
By 5 May, she had:
Met with me three times in person
Contacted me by telephone six times
Responded to every email within 24 hours
This contrast was not simply about availability. It reflected a fundamentally different level of engagement, diligence, and client communication. In a situation as prolonged and complex as ours, that difference mattered greatly.
Proceeding with the 24th Inspection
Despite the change in legal representation, we remained committed to the scheduled inspection date of the 24th. Tatiana advised that cancelling or altering the date would not be appropriate and could be misconstrued. We accepted that advice and agreed to allow events to unfold as planned.
On 21 March, Tatiana informed me by email that Sergio Correas, Amay’s lawyer, along with Amay technicians, would attend the villa at 8:00 am on the 24th to carry out an inspection and comment on the works.
That same day, I received a WhatsApp message from Astrid, asking whether it would be acceptable for her and Janine to attend at 8:30 am to commence work on the basement. I sought clarification, asking explicitly whether the basement was the sole focus of their visit. Astrid confirmed that it was.
This immediately created confusion. We had been told to expect a legal inspection at 8:00 am, followed by work at 8:30 am, yet no one had clarified the scope, duration, or authority.
Believing this inspection to be pivotal, we prepared thoroughly.
We printed the final snag list, translated it into Spanish and produced multiple copies so that all parties would be working from identical information
The list had already been sent to our lawyer, who had forwarded it to Amay’s lawyer in advance.
During these preparations, we recalled that we had not used the guest bathroom shower since it had been repaired the previous October. That repair had followed a significant leak which had caused water to escape into the basement, requiring Amay plumbers to excavate the shower floor to reseal the waste.
Out of caution, we tested the shower. It was still leaking. In the basement, water visibly escaped from the guest bathroom and travelled through the ceiling, precisely the area where the new bathroom was now scheduled to be constructed.
While deeply disappointing, we were also relieved to have identified this issue before any further work commenced. We immediately informed our lawyer and sent an updated snag list clearly documenting the active leak as a defect. The revised lists were printed and ready for distribution on the day of the inspection.
On the morning of the 24th, we were expecting the attendance of Sergio Correas, Amay’s lawyer, who, incidentally, had failed to attend nine previously scheduled appointments, along with Amay’s technicians. Once again, no one arrived.
At 8:30 am, however, Astrid and Janine arrived, accompanied by two tradesmen. They informed us that the tradesmen were there to begin construction of the basement bathroom, as per the contract. Astrid confirmed upon arrival that their visit was limited to the basement.
I immediately raised the issue of the ongoing leak and visible dampness, explaining that proceeding with construction under those conditions would be inappropriate and potentially negligent. Astrid suggested that the dampness could simply be dried using a dryer. I objected.
Explaining that drying visible moisture without identifying and repairing the source would not resolve the problem and that recurrence was inevitable. I also pointed out that the issue had already been documented on the updated snag list sent in advance.
To ensure clarity, I physically demonstrated the source of the leak and the areas affected by dampness. At that point, it became apparent that Janine was working from an outdated snag list. I handed her the updated version.
This moment crystallised a pattern we had experienced repeatedly:
Incomplete information
Misaligned expectations
Works are scheduled without proper inspection
Decisions made without reference to the most current documentation
Despite our efforts to prepare thoroughly and communicate clearly, we once again found ourselves explaining fundamental issues on the spot, issues that should have been identified and resolved long before tradesmen arrived.
The inspection we had anticipated never materialised. Instead, what unfolded was yet another example of fragmented communication and procedural confusion, with real consequences for the integrity of the works.
Janine stated that she had never seen the updated snag list. She appeared visibly frustrated and explained that she worked half-days on Fridays and had therefore not received it. According to her, the arrangements for the day had been made based solely on the version of the list already in her possession.
She further stated that she had not read the list in detail. Given the repeated confusion surrounding documentation, this interaction was recorded for transparency and clarity.
Astrid then explained that they would not have attended the villa had they been aware of the active leak. She also confirmed that the contractors present did not have the materials required to complete the bathroom works as intended.
After further discussion, Astrid outlined that only limited work would be undertaken that day. She stated that Amay would return once the leak and dampness issues had been resolved. During this discussion, Janine disengaged and left the immediate area. She was later observed speaking on her mobile telephone. We subsequently learned that she was speaking with Vicente Barberá, one of the principals of Amay Properties.
Astrid advised that Janine would arrange for someone to attend to address the leak and dampness. She apologised for attending the villa without full awareness of the outstanding issues. I reiterated that all relevant information had been sent well in advance and that we had reasonably expected a prior inspection to take place before any works commenced. That inspection never occurred.
During the visit, I explained that, based on observation, I suspected the dampness originated from the guest bathroom shower. Astrid confirmed that, given the circumstances, only structural work would be undertaken that day, with plumbing and electrical works to follow at a later stage once repairs had been completed.
I asked whether the workers would attend on a daily basis until completion. Astrid confirmed that they would only be present that day, returning at some unspecified point after the electrical and plumbing works were addressed.
We then raised concerns regarding the fact that the ceiling had already been installed, plastered, and painted, while the air-conditioning system remained boxed on the floor. From our perspective, this appeared inefficient, as the ceiling would likely need to be removed to allow installation of the system.
During this discussion, the contractors present also expressed concern that the existing ceiling height was already limited. Astrid indicated that she would arrange for the installation of the air-conditioning system, as she understood that it had already been installed.
At this point, I reminded Astrid that I had raised these same concerns with Janine over a year earlier, at which time I had been told that the builders “knew what they were doing.” Astrid acknowledged that she recalled that discussion.
To ensure clarity, I handed Astrid a copy of the updated snag list.
Janine later returned and stated that she had spoken with her “chief”. She reiterated that the only list she had was the earlier version. When I sought clarification, she confirmed that she did not have the updated list.
She explained that communications were taking place between lawyers and not directly with her, and that the list she was working from was the one supplied to her by Amay’s lawyer. She reiterated that the work being carried out that day would be limited strictly to the wall structure.
When I again raised concerns about dampness, active leaks, and ceiling clearance for the air-conditioning system, she replied that her superior knew how these matters would be addressed, even if she herself did not.
Astrid confirmed that wall construction would proceed that day and that remaining works would follow at a later stage. Before they left, I requested advance notice of any future attendance so that we could ensure we were present. Janine responded that our lawyer would inform us.
It appeared, therefore, that communication would flow from Amay to their lawyer, to our lawyer, and only then to us, rather than by direct notification. This approach made little sense to me at the time. However, by this stage, very little about the process did.
Perspective and Experience
I am not Spanish, nor am I deeply familiar with construction practices in Spain. However, I previously ran a construction business in Ireland and have firsthand experience of Irish building standards, sequencing, and professional accountability.
The contrast in approach, particularly in relation to documentation, communication, and coordination, was difficult for me to reconcile.
The schedule below sets out the dates and times during which we made ourselves available for the completion of the basement bathroom. In my estimation, based on prior professional experience, if this work were taking place in Ireland, it would typically be completed within two weeks or less, depending on sequencing and material availability.
What followed instead was a prolonged and fragmented process, a Timeline of Delays and the Illusion of Progress.
Basement Bathroom – A Record of Attendance
What follows is a factual timeline of attendance and activity relating to the basement bathroom works. It reflects the dates on which we made ourselves available and the limited progress that occurred.
• 24/03/2025 – Works commenced but could not progress as intended. A partial wall was constructed, pending plumbing repairs to resolve an active leak.
25/03/2025 – No tradespeople attended.
26/03/2025 – No tradespeople attended.
27/03/2025 – No tradespeople attended.
28/03/2025 – No tradespeople attended.
01/04/2025 – Plumber attended to address the leak – The leak was not resolved.
02/04/2025 – Plumber and air-conditioning technician attended – the leak remained unresolved.
03/04/2025 – Plumber arrived at 8:00 am and left at 9:00 am. We were informed he could not fix the leak and did not know when he would return
•04/04/2025 – Plumber arrived without prior appointment at 11:00 am. He opened a hole in the utility room wall and carried out works that, on that day, appeared to resolve the leak.
07/04/2025 – No tradespeople attended.
08/04/2025 – Contractor arrived at 8:40 am, left at 1:45 pm, and returned at 3:05 pm. Some wall structures were constructed.
09/04/2025 – Contractor arrived at 8:00 am and completed the shell of the bathroom. We were informed that their part of the work was complete.
10/04/2025 – No tradespeople attended.
11/04/2025 – No tradespeople attended.
What remained was a bathroom shell, first-fix plumbing and electrics, and an installed air-conditioning component. That was the full extent of the work. The 21-day deadline referenced in correspondence had passed without completion.
From our perspective, this pattern, brief bursts of activity followed by prolonged absence, unclear scheduling, and no continuity, had by then become familiar throughout our dealings on this project.
Nothing further occurred in relation to the basement bathroom until 20 May.
Town Hall Follow-Up on the Habitation Certificate
In the interim, our lawyer arranged another meeting at the Town Hall with Señor Quesada Pérez, this time specifically to follow up on the status of the Habitation Certificate.
As previously outlined, our former lawyer, Tanash Utamchandani, had obtained an inspection document which we were advised represented a step toward securing the certificate.
The meeting at the Town Hall was cordial and informative. We were advised that the inspection document we had already been in possession of since mid-February was, in fact, the Habitation Certificate itself.
We left the office feeling both relieved and confused.
Relieved — because the certificate existed.
Confused — because we could not understand why the situation had been presented to us as unresolved, or why the document had been described as something other than what it was. This discrepancy would become relevant again later.
Meeting at the Villa – 5 May
The scheduled meeting on 5 May proceeded, with all parties in attendance:
Our lawyer, Tatian,a and her assistant
Amay’s architect, Joaquin
Amay’s quantity surveyor
Sergio Correas Ferrer, Amay’s lawyer
Roy and myself
At the outset, the atmosphere was largely polite and formal, greetings were exchanged, and introductions made, with one notable exception. Señor Sergio Correas Ferrer did not acknowledge Roy or me, and appeared to avoid eye contact throughout the visit.
He positioned himself on the terrace and delivered what felt like a prepared statement, lasting approximately eight minutes, in a manner more reminiscent of a formal address than a collaborative site meeting. He spoke entirely in Spanish. However, we are English-speaking clients.
While I accept that living in another country carries with it a responsibility to learn the language, something I was, and remain, actively engaged in, I nonetheless required clarification on several points. Tatiana’s assistant provided translation where needed.
Based on the translation provided, the key points conveyed by Señor Correas Ferrer were as follows:
• He stated that he was the superior of Antonio Lorente. Neither my lawyer nor I were familiar with this individual at that time.
• He suggested that delays in the basement works were related to Town Hall inspection and approval matters, and stated that he was willing, during the meeting, to review what needed to be rectified.
I struggled to reconcile this explanation with our own understanding following our Town Hall meeting, where we were shown documentation indicating that Amay had not responded to a registered letter issued in March 2024.
He also stated, in substance, that I was “badmouthing” the construction company online or on various platforms. From my perspective, this set a defensive tone at the outset of the meeting.
For clarity, I do not consider myself to have “badmouthed” Amay Properties or its staff. What I have done, and continue to do, is document our experience as it occurred, supported by contemporaneous correspondence, timelines, and site observations.
That documentation of our experience includes:
Repeated delays
Changing explanations
Inaccuracies
Construction errors
Interactions we experienced as dismissive or disrespectful
Conduct, Accountability, and the Weight of Repetition
As previously noted, Amay’s CEO, Lea García, stated in a 2023 email that I was free to share my opinions with whomever I chose. I include this here only as context, to explain why the reference during the meeting to “badmouthing” the company felt misplaced to me.
I have not sought to disparage Amay Properties or its staff. What I have done is document our experience as it unfolded, supported by contemporaneous correspondence, site observations, and records. From my perspective, that distinction matters.
During the meeting, Señor Sergio Correas Ferrer also stated that our current lawyer was the third firm involved in the matter. Whether or not this was intended as commentary, I experienced it as having the effect of undermining our position in front of our new legal representative, rather than contributing constructively to resolving the outstanding issues.
In my opinion, Señor Correas Ferrer’s demeanour and body language throughout the inspection suggested impatience and a desire to conclude matters quickly. He took several telephone calls during the walkthrough and moved through the property at a pace. The overall impression was that insufficient time had been allocated to properly review the issues that had been outstanding for a considerable period.
As we walked through the terrace and into the villa, addressing each item on the snag list, I observed repeated dismissive gestures in response to points I raised. From my perspective, this manner of engagement had the effect of minimising issues that we considered significant, documented, and unresolved.
When we reached the first floor to discuss the air-conditioning system, or more accurately, a system that was not performing adequately, he appeared visibly uncomfortable due to the heat and was perspiring heavily. Despite these conditions, he maintained that the system presented no problem.
This was difficult for me to reconcile with our lived experience of the space, particularly given that the room temperature was demonstrably uncomfortable even during the inspection.
When we arrived at the car gate, I explained our concern clearly: there was no effective safety sensor, and the gate continued closing regardless of human or other obstruction. In our view, this represented a safety risk. He did not appear to regard the issue as significant.
In order to illustrate the concern, not as confrontation, but as a demonstration, I asked him to stand in the gateway while I initiated the closing sequence, stopping the gate just before contact was made. The purpose was to show that, without an effective safety mechanism, the gate would continue closing and could potentially cause injury or damage.
Shortly thereafter, he said goodbye to our lawyer and left the property without formally concluding the inspection or resolving the key issues raised. This abrupt departure compounded our frustration and left several matters unresolved.
Following his departure, we continued the inspection with Amay’s architect and quantity surveyor. During this discussion, multiple items were reviewed and, in large part, agreed upon.
I want to record this clearly and fairly: Joaquin, one of Amay’s architects, has consistently been courteous and professional in all of our interactions. In my experience, he has been a gentleman and significantly easier to engage with constructively than others involved in the process.
Reflecting on the prior disputes, particularly repeated assertions that certain works were “not in the contract”, it was encouraging to find that, during this meeting, Amay’s lawyer and architect largely accepted that the items we had been raising were, in fact, contractual obligations requiring action.
There were a small number of items on which further clarification was sought, including: The wall height and the air-conditioning system, with a commitment to revert on those issues.
In most areas, there was reluctant agreement to proceed.
Almost a year after signing the deed and transferring a substantial sum of our hard-earned money, we were again left with what appeared to be a credible promise that the remaining work would finally be completed.
As I write this, I am conscious of how often we had heard similar assurances before, sometimes followed by promises, sometimes by agreements, sometimes by written confirmations, and yet still followed by delay and non-activity.
I do not record this to dramatise events. I record it because repetition changes people.
Repeated cycles of hope and disappointment wear down optimism and replace it with guarded expectation. That is where we now find ourselves, hopeful but cautious; willing to engage, but no longer able to trust without verification.
Return to the Bathroom Works
Returning to the unfinished basement bathroom, now three weeks into what was supposed to be a clearly defined and time-bound process, Janine requested a meeting at the villa with the tile store manager.
I will be honest. By this point, I found Janine extremely difficult to deal with. On this occasion, I was not pleasant towards her; my patience and tolerance had finally caved. I regret the way I expressed my frustration, because I mostly ignored her. I am not proud of that moment, but I include it deliberately, because it illustrates how prolonged stress, repeated delays, and constant friction can erode even the most patient and reasonable person. This process had worn me down.
During the meeting, Janine stated that the skirting tile required to match the existing basement skirting was no longer available. According to her, the only option now was a 600mm tile, whereas the original skirting tile measured 950mm.
I struggled to understand why this could not be resolved through cutting, matching, or sourcing an equivalent. After three years of similar explanations, my tolerance was gone. I responded curtly: “It’s not my problem”. I advised her to simply ensure that the finished tiles matched the room as originally agreed. She abruptly ended the meeting and asked the tile store manager to leave. To his credit, he remained courteous throughout, said goodbye politely, and departed.
Further Delays — and Then, Unexpected Progress
On 13 May, Sergio Correas emailed our lawyer stating that he would have a commencement date for all agreed-upon works within one week. This sounded promising.
Eight days later, our lawyer followed up. The reply was depressingly familiar: he was still awaiting instructions from his client.
At that moment, my heart sank. Based on everything we had experienced over the previous three years, it felt as though the familiar pattern had resumed, progress promised, then deferred, then quietly abandoned. I cannot state motive as fact. I can only describe how it felt. It felt like a process designed to frustrate, exhaust, and ultimately outlast us.
Bathroom Completion Timeline
Nearly two months after the bathroom “commencement,” the plumber finally attended on the 17th to install the bath. His assistant constructed a wall around the bath base, but without an inspection hatch, an omission that immediately raised my concerns about future access and maintenance; however, I remained silent.
Then, unexpectedly, momentum began to build. On Friday, Astrid texted asking if tilers could attend on Tuesday, 20 May, at 8:00 am. For the first time in a long while, we felt genuine relief. They arrived on time.
Tiles were delivered by finger crane, and the tile store manager attended in person to confirm grout colour and feature-tile placement. During this visit, something significant happened. He also delivered the skirting tiles. The same skirting tiles that Janine had previously stated were unavailable were now delivered, on site, and ready for installation.
The tilers worked for two full days, and by Wednesday, 21 May, the wall tiling was complete. The following morning, a carpenter arrived to measure for the bathroom door. The door was later fitted on 22 May, though not completed that day. Once again, I found myself wondering how such a straightforward task had become so drawn out.
The Wall Re-Measured — Again
On 3 June, Joaquin returned to re-measure the boundary wall that had already been agreed as undersized. This confused me. He had measured it on 5 May and agreed that it was 1.8 metres high. Had something changed?
Approximately an hour later, he returned and asked to measure it again. The moment felt surreal, a kind of Groundhog Day repetition that had come to define this entire project. Nevertheless, I welcomed him and allowed access without complaint. He measured the same location again.
Between 5 and 11 June, a succession of trades attended the villa to complete the bathroom: a carpenter, plumber, painter, and electrician, each addressing isolated elements of the outstanding bathroom. While progress was visible, it remained fragmented, lacking coordination or any sense of structured scheduling.
On 12 June, our lawyer informed us that AMAY’s lawyer had once again promised to contact his client to urge the subcontractors to complete the remaining time-eternal list. To us, this explanation felt familiar. Responsibility appeared to drift perpetually between lawyers, directors, and subcontractors, while accountability remained elusive.
Between 13 and 19 June, the bath glass was installed, the window frame was sealed, and the basement bathroom was finally completed on 19 June. It had taken almost three months to complete a relatively small bathroom.
Measured purely by on-site trade attendance, and based on our prior experience with similar projects, this work could reasonably have been completed in approximately two working weeks, had it been properly planned, sequenced, and supervised. Instead, it became another drawn-out process marked by long absences, intermittent attendance, and repeated follow-ups.
Jacuzzi — New Failures, Familiar Silence
By 23 June, our lawyer was struggling to obtain dates for the remaining promised works. She wrote again to Amay’s lawyer, clearly listing the unresolved issues and requesting confirmation as to whether Amay intended to complete them. She emphasised that the air-conditioning issue was urgent and required a timely solution.
Two days later, the jacuzzi stopped working. I contacted Astrid to ask whether it could be repaired. Her response was brief: Janine had advised that the issue should be added to the list and communicated through the lawyers.
As of December, Amay Properties has never repaired the jacuzzi. We eventually arranged the repair ourselves. I do not speculate as to the reason. I simply record the sequence of events as they occurred.
Escalating Heat
By early July, our lawyer continued to report difficulty in obtaining meaningful responses from Amay’s lawyer. At this stage, the air-conditioning issue had become critical.
As outdoor temperatures increased, the temperature in our master bedroom rose sharply. We ran the air-conditioning unit for ten consecutive hours overnight. The result was marginal at best: a reduction from 30.2°C at 11:00 pm to 26.6°C at 9:00 am the following morning.
Eventually, the situation became untenable. We were forced to abandon our master bedroom and sleep in the guest bedroom on the ground floor, which, while still warm, was at least marginally more tolerable.
Our lawyer proposed a further step: commissioning an independent technician’s report, including calculations demonstrating that the installed air-conditioning system was insufficient for the volume of space it was required to cool. This was suggested as a practical means of resolving the issue. This also did not lead to a resolution.
The Moment That Would Not Leave Me
As I write this chapter, my thoughts keep returning to a single statement, one that, in hindsight, should have stopped me in my tracks. In May 2024, when I asked Janine to ensure that Vicente Barberá attended the pre-deed closure inspection and requested that our own architect also be present, her response was unequivocal.
On 31 May 2024 at 13:36, we were told that no architect, not even ours, would be permitted onto the property for the pre-deed closure inspection.
At the time, I dismissed it. I told myself that this was simply “how things were done,” or that pushing the issue would only create further conflict. I chose pragmatism over instinct. Now, writing this nineteen months later, I recognise that moment for what it was. It was a clear warning sign. An alarm bell, and I ignored it.
That decision remains one of my deepest regrets in this entire process.
Amay’s Lawyer give us advice on Air Conditioning Protocols
During the first week of July, Amay’s lawyer contacted our lawyer to say that he was “looking into” the air-conditioning issue and would revert shortly. When no response followed, our lawyer attempted to contact him again. His phone was out of service. She left a message requesting an urgent return call, emphasising that the air-conditioning issue could not continue unresolved.
Later that week, he did call her back. However, he again provided no substantive answers. He explained that the decision was not his to make. Nevertheless, he assured her that he would have clarity by Monday or Tuesday.
On Monday, 7 July, our lawyer forwarded us a transcript of what had been communicated to her. It read as follows:
“Today I called the lawyer of the builder, and he told me the following:
- Regarding the air conditioning, he told me that it is standard
An air conditioning system is installed in all houses of this type.
He also told me that for houses in very hot areas, the rules of prevention should be applied:
Keep windows open only for a couple of hours in the morning and then keep them closed
Install awnings on the windows
On the solarium on the roof, put a shading net.
Regarding the fence, he said that when the technician came, he measured the fence and, according to his measurement, it has a height of 1.80 metres as foreseen in the contract.
3. He also said that some of the things on the list have already been rectified.”
I read and re-read that email several times to ensure I had not misunderstood its meaning or tone. To me, the response felt dismissive and inappropriate.
We were not asking for lifestyle guidance. We were asking for a contracted home to be completed correctly, including an air-conditioning system capable of cooling the space it was installed to serve. Being advised to keep windows closed, install awnings, and apply shading nets to the solarium felt like an attempt to normalise a technical failure rather than address the problem.
The statement regarding the wall height caused similar frustration. Yes, the wall measured 1.8 metres. That fact was never in dispute. The issue was that the contract specified 2 metres. Repeating the existing measurement did not resolve the discrepancy; it merely restated it.
Finally, the assertion that “some of the things on the list have already been rectified” did not align with what we could see with our own eyes at the property at that time.
After taking time to regain composure, I replied to our lawyer and later spoke with her by telephone. Confirming that she had spoken directly with Amay’s lawyer and formed the clear impression that the company was preparing to refuse to undertake any further works.
She also told me that he had indicated a burofax would be sent setting out that position, so that we could commission an expert report and, if necessary, proceed to court. She raised the air-conditioning issue again and asked a simple, logical question:
If an independent technical report demonstrated that the installed system was unsuitable for the space, would Amay then replace it? The answer relayed to us was unequivocal: “No.”
By July 2025, we had already paid Amay Properties over €600,000, only thirteen months earlier, for a villa that remained incomplete. We were now being told, in effect, that completion would not occur.
Why This Matters for Future Buyers
I am aware that many people have heard difficult stories about property development and post-completion issues in Spain. However, the question that continues to trouble me is this:
Why should any buyer, particularly one unfamiliar with the language, administrative system, or legal culture, be placed in a position where they must fight simply to have contractual obligations honoured?
In our experience, the cost was not limited to money. It was months of stress, uncertainty, disrupted living arrangements, and constant vigilance. That is precisely why this story is being documented, not to instruct others on what to think, but to provide the level of detail we ourselves wish we had been given.
A Familiar Pattern: Promises Without Delivery
Ten days passed. No burofax arrived. No written position was received, and nothing followed. By this stage, a recurring pattern had become unmistakable: assurances, timelines, promises, followed by silence or non-fulfilment. I do not frame this as an assertion of intent; I describe it as the consistent experience we encountered.
Our lawyer then requested Amay’s business address so she could formally issue a burofax. In response, Amay’s lawyer asked for “a couple of days” so he could speak with his client again. Viewed in isolation, that request could be interpreted as a genuine attempt to resolve matters. Viewed in the context of the preceding three years, it felt like yet another pause inserted into an already protracted process.
No follow-up call came, and no clarity was provided.
The Court Process Begins
By mid-July, the cumulative weight of the previous three years had taken its toll. I was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Attending the Doctor more frequently, Not sleeping, Stressed, and I was increasingly impatient with this entire process, not because I wanted confrontation, but because the cycle of delay, explanation, and inaction had become intolerable. I communicated this openly to our lawyer, who suggested a call to outline, in clear terms, what the legal path ahead would involve.
During that call, our lawyer explained the formal steps required to bring a claim for breach of contract against the builder. Central to that process was the requirement to engage an independent, qualified architect who would inspect the property and certify whether the villa had been completed in accordance with the contract. That architect would then be required to prepare a detailed expert report, identifying defects, non-compliances, unfinished works, and the economic value of rectifying those issues.
The cost of commissioning such a report was high. The architect’s fees were not insignificant, and at that stage, we had already incurred substantial costs, both direct and indirect. Nonetheless, it became clear that without an expert report, we could not proceed meaningfully through the courts. Reluctantly, but decisively, we agreed to move forward.
By this point, my motivation had shifted.
It was no longer solely about recovering financial loss. It had become about accountability, ensuring that the issues we had experienced were examined formally within the legal system, and that our experience could be documented accurately and publicly so that others might make more informed decisions than we had been able to make at the outset.
Our lawyer also explained the boundaries of what could realistically be claimed. We could not claim our time, approximately 2,400 hours spent managing, monitoring, correcting, and pursuing completion of the build. We could not claim for stress, emotional strain, or moral damage in the way one might reasonably expect under other legal systems. The focus, she explained, was primarily on measurable financial loss and demonstrable contractual breach.
The fact that the villa had been due for completion in September 2023, and that we were now deep into 2025, appeared to carry far less legal weight than the costed value of remedial works.
Nevertheless, we chose to proceed. Not only for ourselves, but because we believed that documenting this process and making it public information might help others navigate similar situations with greater awareness and preparation.
A New Legal Hurdle
We were also advised that a new legal requirement had recently been introduced. Before initiating judicial proceedings, an additional burofax was now mandatory. The purpose of the legislation was to encourage resolution between parties and reduce the burden on the courts. In principle, this seemed reasonable when dealing with reasonable parties. In practice, for us, it introduced yet another delay: an additional 30-day window.
On 29 August, during one of the hottest summers Spain had experienced in years, our lawyer issued the required burofax. It granted thirty days for the completion of the thirty-four outstanding items on our snag list. These included, crucially, the air-conditioning system, which, based on observed performance and independent technical opinion, appeared inadequate for the space it was intended to serve.
Our lawyer confirmed that the construction company’s solicitors received the registered letter and contacted her to say that they would provide a response in the first week of September.
Under the law, it appeared that Amay now had thirty days not merely to discuss dates, but to complete the works. In practical terms, that deadline fell on 29 September.
An Unexpected Message
On 24 September, I received an unexpected WhatsApp message from Astrid, sent from her private number, something that had not occurred before. The exchange unfolded as follows:
09:45 am – VOICE MSG:
“I’m texting you here because I’m on vacation for two weeks. I have been asked by the workers: can the workers come to your house at 4.30 to look at the humidity?”
09:45 am – VOICE MSG:
“Is that OK?”
09:46 am – Me:
“Humidity?????”
09:46 am – VOICE MSG:
“Ehhhhh, they tell me humidity, I don’t know, maybe it’s a different thing. If you want, you can explain me, but this is what they tell me.”
09:49 am – Me:
“I need to check with the lawyer as we are way past giving time to Amay. We are preparing for court action at this point. So let me check, and so they can’t come until the lawyer tells me. Is that ok.”
09:50 am – VOICE MSG:
“OK, David, thanks very much. But I will wait for your answers and check with the workers and check with Janine to see what the problem was, if it’s not humidity, maybe it’s something bad in the translation. Thank you very much, have a good day.”
My understanding of “humidity” is dampness. At that point, the only dampness issue we had experienced was in the basement, and we believed it had already been addressed before the bathroom work progressed.
I contacted our lawyer immediately. She had no prior knowledge of any proposed visit and confirmed something that had become central to our position: it was no longer useful for Amay to fix isolated issues, at times of their choosing, without written acceptance of the full list of unresolved contractual obligations.
We had a defined list. Enough time had been granted and we had followed the process. By this stage, the construction company had not accepted responsibility for completing the works fully or within any credible timeframe.
Our lawyer offered to call the construction company. I declined. We had been there before. Informal conversations, partial fixes, and vague assurances had led us repeatedly back to the same place.
This time, the decision was clear. No more informal arrangements. Isolated visits had ended. No more cycles. We would proceed with litigation.
Our Architect Visit
On 26 September, our newly engaged architect arrived at the villa at 9:20 am. He was polite, professional, and spoke good English. We showed him around the property and then gave him space to conduct his appraisal independently. He advised that he would revert if further clarification was required.
In early October, my sister came to stay with us. For the first time in months, there was a brief sense of calm. Then an email arrived from our lawyer. It was 13 October, fourteen days after the thirty-day deadline set out in our burofax had expired.
Once again, I found myself thinking: What does a deadline actually mean in this process? In our experience, deadlines had often appeared to carry little practical consequence.
Our lawyer wrote: “We received a burofax from Amay in response to ours. I have attached it”.
She summarised its contents as follows:
“The burofax refers to a possible offence of libel and slander and alleged defamation due to the posts made on social media. Consequently, AMAY is requesting that you cease these actions, which the construction company considers to be ‘allegedly defamatory, sexist, misleading and libellous’, and is asking you to delete the posts already made within 15 days. If you fail to do so, AMAY states that it will take appropriate legal action with regard to the posts.”
My initial reaction was one I had come to recognise. Rather than addressing the outstanding contractual issues, it appeared that the focus had shifted toward the act of speaking out about them.
I want to be very clear: I am not stating motive as fact. I cannot do that. What I can state is the effect of receiving that burofax. To me, it felt like pressure. It felt like an attempt to discourage public discussion rather than resolve substantive problems. From my perspective, the timing did not feel coincidental.
Architects Request
Shortly before the burofax was issued, our architect had contacted Amay’s lawyer requesting a technical document that would normally form part of a completed property file. In simple terms, this document functions as a building “logbook”, a set of technical schematics and structural records relating to the villa.
Amay’s lawyer did not refuse to provide the document. Equally, he did not confirm when it would be supplied. The practical effect of that delay was that Amay became aware that we had not disengaged and that we were preparing a case supported by independent expert evidence.
That awareness appeared to mark a shift. Whether that shift was strategic or reactive, I cannot say. What I can say is that the tone of engagement changed. And with it, any remaining illusion that friendliness equated to safety quietly disappeared. This part, I’ll discuss at the end of the chapter.
Family and Friends Pressure
When I told my sister about the legal threat, she became deeply upset. Her reaction came from fear, not disagreement. She urged me to take the story down, to delete the social media posts, and to make it all go away. Friends expressed similar concerns, not because they believed I was wrong, but because they could see the toll the situation was taking on our lives.
Their concern was understandable. The stress had been relentless. The pressure was real, and the risks felt unfamiliar and unsettling. But my response came from a much deeper place.
As a child, I experienced bullying at school, including physical and emotional mistreatment from both peers and authority figures. Later in life, I encountered further attempts at intimidation and marginalisation related to my sexual orientation. These experiences are part of my personal history. They shaped how I understand fear, silence, self-respect, and resilience.
Over time, rather than retreating inward, I learned to stand firm. I made a conscious decision many years ago that I would not remain silent in the face of behaviour that felt unjust or harmful, toward myself or, where possible, toward others.
Today, I try to live by the values of honour and integrity. I believe in speaking carefully, honestly, and responsibly when something matters.
That led me to ask myself a difficult but necessary question:
Who would I be if I removed my story simply because I was being pressured for telling it?
My account is a factual record of our experience. It is supported by correspondence, timelines, and documentation. Not written to attack, insult, or defame anyone, and written to document what occurred, as we experienced it.
To remove it entirely would have felt like denying not only our experience, but my own sense of self.
The Legal Reality of Criminal Defamation
I did not know it existed, but it does in Spain. In truth, I was so consumed by the shock of the threat that I barely read the burofax properly at the time. Fortunately, my lawyer acted quickly. She referred me to her firm’s criminal law division.
I learned something that surprised me: in Spain, defamation can be pursued as a criminal matter. That revelation distressed my sister even more.
I met with the criminal lawyer, who reviewed my story and the social media posts associated with it. He did not identify criminal intent. He did, however, recommend adjusting certain language to reduce risk. I took that advice seriously and made the changes.
What stayed with me most was not fear, it was insight. I learned that even when telling the truth, language matters. Tone matters. Precision matters.
It is not only what is said, but how it is framed. I already understood the distinction between fact and opinion. What surprised me was how easily truth can become vulnerable when phrasing is careless, and how quickly accuracy can be reframed as “problematic” if language lacks restraint. It was, for me, a revelation.
Confusing Contradiction
One detail continued to trouble me. In an email dated 23 February 2023, Lea García, CEO of Amay Properties, wrote the following:
“If, for that reason, you do not take into account the attention given, the speed of problem solving and our best wish that your home is done correctly, it is your opinion and as such you can express it to the groups of people you consider.”
To me, this appeared to be explicit permission to express my opinion publicly, including on social media, and to do so through any groups or communities I chose. I struggled to reconcile that statement with the later burofax threatening legal action for doing precisely that.
My feeling, and I state this clearly as my perception, not an assertion of intent, was that the tone and timing of the later communication had the effect of discouraging public discussion rather than addressing the substance of the issues raised.
Misplaced Trust
There is something quietly unsettling about how easily we can become blindsided when someone appears kind, friendly, and approachable, particularly when we are already worn down by conflict, stress, and prolonged uncertainty. In such circumstances, friendliness can feel like relief. Politeness can feel like protection, and familiarity can easily be mistaken for loyalty.
As I had earlier mentioned, I did not fully read the burofax on its arrival, but as I sit and complete this chapter on the 31st December, for absolute clarity and to ensure no misunderstanding, I read the burofax intently. I noticed something that stopped me cold. Embedded within the legal document was a partial reference to Astrid’s WhatsApp message about “humidity.”
Seeing that message there felt like a punch to the stomach. Not because of any wrongdoing or lack of understanding of the word, but it suggested that a communication I had understood to be “informal” had been relayed onwards. It forced me to confront a difficult and uncomfortable realisation:- if that message had been shared, then it was possible that other personal exchanges may also not have been private in the way I had assumed.
I want to be clear and precise. I do not claim to know what information was shared, when it was shared, or with whom, and I make no assertion of fact in that regard. What I can describe is the personal impact of seeing a private exchange referenced within a formal legal document as purported context for a discussion about “humidity.” Experiencing that moment felt as though a personal boundary had been crossed, and it caused me to reflect on whether trust had once again been misplaced.
I had a friendly rapport with Astrid. Business-related matters were communicated through her professional WhatsApp account, while occasional personal conversations took place via her private WhatsApp. Those personal exchanges did not relate to or discuss our issues with her employer, Amay Properties.
Our personal conversations had been human. They were not about contracts or disputes. They were about everyday things: her life, her vacations, her dog; my dog; our vacations, small, ordinary moments shared between people that had come to know and like one another, while at the same time, navigating a difficult situation. At the time, I believed she genuinely cared and was uncomfortable with how we were being treated. Perhaps I misread her, or perhaps I misread the situation.
Either way, the emotional impact was real.
Betrayal is difficult to process at the best of times. It becomes even harder when you have spent decades working with people, counselling, listening, observing body language, reading tone, and relying on intuition. Betrayal presents a fork in the road for us all. We either close ourselves off entirely, or we continue to believe that goodness exists within humanity and that trust, cautiously given, still has a place.
In this instance, I chose the latter, and it felt, painfully, like the wrong choice.
Reflection
As I step back and reflect on the year that has just passed, I realise that 2025 taught me new vocabulary, not because the words were new, but because they became normalised. Words like misdirection, misinformation, problematic, and inappropriate became common currency.
To me, 2025 became the year where truth was everywhere, yet meaning was constantly contested. Where accountability was replaced by performance. Where distraction became a strategy.
When truth exists but attention is diverted, misdirection and misinformation have already succeeded, and so, for me, 2025 was not a failure of intelligence, but a warning about attention, courage, and the cost of looking away.
I wrote an article reflecting on this shift, which can be read here:
Chapter 5 will follow as 2026 unfolds.