Chapter Thirty-Nine: A Mother's Last Gift
The air in the apartment was thick with tension. Every sound—every distant honk, every whispered breeze through the cracked window—felt amplified, like a countdown to the inevitable. Margret sat on the edge of the bed, her body trembling from pain and exhaustion, but her eyes were sharp, clear, and unyielding.
Lucia knelt beside her, heart pounding, knowing instinctively that tonight would change everything. She had grown strong through years of running, hiding, and surviving—but nothing had prepared her for this moment.
Margret reached into her bag and pulled out the small camcorder, still warm from the last recording. Her hands shook as she handed it to her daughter. "Take it," she whispered, her voice firm despite the quiver in her chest.
Lucia accepted it, her fingers brushing her mother's. The weight of the device felt heavier than its size—it carried years of secrets, courage, and the final truth about the man they had both feared.
"This," Margret said, pressing a hand over her daughter's shoulder, "is everything. Every lie he's told, every crime he's hidden, every life he's destroyed to reach power. It's all here."
Lucia's eyes welled with tears. "Mama… what do I do with it?"
Margret's gaze locked with hers. "You wait. You protect it. And when the time comes—you post it. You expose him. The world needs to know. Not just for me… for you, for every person he's silenced."
Lucia nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I… I can do that."
Margret smiled faintly, a smile full of love and resolve. "I know you can. But you must remember—this is dangerous. Never let anyone see where you live. Never trust anyone fully. The people who think they're friends may be watching. And never, ever show weakness. They will exploit it."
Lucia gripped her mother's hand tightly. "I understand."
Margret's voice softened for the first time that night. "Lucia… I have lived my life protecting you. I may not see the sun rise tomorrow, but you—my child—you will carry our truth. You will carry the strength I could no longer carry."
Tears streamed down Lucia's face as she pressed her forehead to her mother's. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Margret whispered, though her voice trembled. "Not completely. This video… it's my last gift. It's my hand guiding you even when I'm gone."
She took a deep breath, holding her daughter close, feeling the steady rise and fall of Lucia's chest. "Promise me," she said firmly, "promise me you'll use it wisely. Justice is not about revenge—it's about truth."
"I promise, Mama," Lucia replied, choking on her words.
Margret's eyes softened as she let go, straightening with difficulty. She pointed toward the door. "Now… you stay hidden. I will face him. But you… you survive. You live. And when the time comes—you show the world who he really is."
Lucia nodded again, clutching the camcorder as if it were a lifeline, and retreated to the far corner of the room, pressing herself against the wall, silent, waiting.
Outside, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, deliberate and unrelenting. Margret inhaled deeply, steadied herself, and whispered under her breath:
"This is for you, my daughter. Carry our truth. Carry our strength. And never let him win."
The door opened. The hunt had ended. The reckoning had begun.