Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Final Night
The apartment was dark, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp. Margret moved slowly, deliberately, every step calculated. Her body protested, every joint aching, her chest burning with pain that no medicine could fully relieve. But fear was sharper than the illness now—it kept her alert, precise.
Lucia sat quietly on the edge of the bed, watching her mother. She didn't ask questions. She didn't speak. She had learned, after years of running, that silence often saved lives.
Margret placed the small camcorder on the table. It was old and battered, but reliable. She had packed it months ago, anticipating a day when the truth needed a voice stronger than her own frail one.
"This…" Margret began, her voice trembling yet steady, "…is the story of what he really is. David. Your father, my husband. The man who believes he can erase lives with power, money, and fear."
Lucia's hands gripped the edge of the bed. "Mama…" she whispered.
Margret held up a hand. "Let me finish. This is for you, Lucia. For your life, for your future. For every lie he's ever told, every crime he's hidden. You need this. You will see. You will know. And someday, others will too."
She pressed record. The little red light blinked steadily, like a heartbeat counting down the hours.
"I've tried to protect you," Margret continued, speaking directly to the camera. "I've run, hidden, lied, and sacrificed everything just to keep you alive. But he's relentless. He will come for us. And I fear… I may not survive tonight."
Her eyes glistened, but her voice remained firm. "David isn't just a cheater or a liar. He is capable of murder. He took men out to build his empire. He silenced witnesses. He hid corruption behind smiles and speeches. But no matter how high he climbs, the truth exists. And it will follow him."
Lucia watched her mother's face, pale and lined with pain, yet radiant in her courage. She could feel the weight of every secret Margret had carried all these years—the years of running, hiding, surviving.
"He will try to take you from me, Lucia," Margret whispered, her voice breaking for a moment. "But you must remember: his power ends where your courage begins. When I'm gone… you have to be strong. You have to use this video. You have to show the world the man he really is."
Tears streamed down Lucia's face, but she remained silent. Her mother's determination gave her strength even as fear clawed at her chest.
Margret placed her hand on her heart. "I'm not asking for forgiveness, only remembrance. Remember me… and fight with truth."
She paused, taking a shaky breath. Her fingers fumbled as she ended the recording, pressing "stop" with a trembling hand. The red light faded.
Lucia moved closer and hugged her mother tightly. "Mama… we can still run. We can—"
Margret shook her head. "No. We have run long enough. The running hasn't protected us. Tonight… tonight I face him. But the truth—this video—will survive me."
Outside, the faint sound of tires on wet asphalt drew closer. Margret's eyes hardened. This was the moment she had been preparing for. Not just survival. Not just escape. But the endgame.
She glanced at her daughter one last time. "Whatever happens," she whispered, "remember who we are. Remember the truth. And never, ever let fear silence you."
Lucia nodded, tears falling freely now. She knew her mother's words were more than advice—they were a final gift, a legacy of courage she would carry forever.
The doorbell rang. Margret straightened, gripping the small bag under her arm. She would face him. She would not beg. She would not plead.
The camera, tucked into her bag, would ensure that when she was gone, David's empire of lies would be exposed.
The final night had begun.