Chapter 8: The Last Confrontation
Raul was released on bail four days after his arrest.
His attorney had managed the continuance.
The charge was formal — financial fraud, multiple counts — but he was home, in a house that no longer belonged to him, waiting for a trial date.
Gregor told me I didn't have to go.
"I know," I said.
"There is nothing he can give you that you don't already have."
"I know that too."
He looked at me for a moment.
"Then why?"
"Because I need him to hear it from me," I said.
"Not from a lawyer.
Not from a document.
From me."
Gregor drove me himself.
He waited outside.
Helena answered the door.
She looked older than she had four days ago — or maybe I was just seeing her differently, now that I wasn't afraid.
She stared at me for a long moment.
"He's in the sitting room," she said.
And then, quietly, so quietly I almost missed it: "I won't stop you."
Raul was in his chair by the window.
The room looked the same.
The same furniture, the same curtains, the same photograph of Victor as a child on the side table.
Everything the same, except the man in the chair looked diminished.
Like something had been removed from him and the shape of him hadn't adjusted yet.
He looked up when I came in.
"Lena."
"Raul."
I sat down across from him.
I didn't wait for him to speak.
"I'm not here to negotiate," I said.
"I'm not here to offer you anything.
I'm here because I want you to understand what you did.
Not to your business partners.
Not to the families who lost their homes.
To me.
To your grandchild."
He said nothing.
"I was six months pregnant on that floor," I said.
"Your son hjt me with your cane.
Your wife cheered.
Your daughter filmed it.
And you sat at that table and you laughed."
"Lena—"
"I'm not finished."
He closed his mouth.
"You knew about the agreement," I said.
"You knew the condition.
You agreed to it in writing.
And you let it happen anyway.
Which means one of two things.
Either you forgot, which I don't believe.
Or you decided the consequences weren't real until they arrived at your door."
Raul looked at his hands.
"The business was failing.
I was under pressure you can't—"
"Don't," I said.
He stopped.
"I don't want your explanation.
I want you to sit there and hear me.
That's all." I leaned forward slightly.
"Your granddaughter is going to be born in three months.
She will never know this house as a place of fear.
She will never know your name as something to be afraid of.
Whatever happens in that courtroom, whatever your lawyer manages to negotiate — she will grow up knowing that her mother did not stay silent.
That is what I came to tell you."
Raul looked up.
His eyes were wet.
I didn't know if it was genuine or performance, and I found that I didn't need to know.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I know," I said.
"It's not enough.
But I know."
I stood up.
He reached out one hand — not grabbing, just extending.
An old man's gesture.
Uncertain.
"Is there anything—" he started.
"No," I said.
"There isn't."
I walked to the door.
Helena was in the hallway.
She had been listening.
She didn't pretend otherwise.
"The house," she said.
"Will you sell it?"
"I haven't decided."
She nodded.
Then, after a pause: "Aleksy was a good man.
He talked about you.
Before he passed." She looked at the wall.
"He said you reminded him of his daughter.
He lost her young."
I hadn't known that.
Gregor had never mentioned it.
"I didn't know he had a daughter," I said.
"He didn't talk about it often." Helena looked at me.
"He chose you on purpose, Lena.
Not as a transaction.
He chose you."
I stood in the hallway for a moment.
Then I walked to the front door and opened it.
Gregor was leaning against the car, looking at nothing in particular.
He straightened when he saw me.
"Done?" he said.
"Done," I said.
He opened the passenger door.
I got in.
He walked around to the driver's side, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb without asking anything else.
We drove for several minutes in silence.
"He said he was sorry," I said.
"Did it help?"
I thought about it honestly.
"A little," I said.
"Not because it changes anything.
But because he meant it."
Gregor nodded.
"Helena told me something," I said.
"About Aleksy.
About why he chose me."
Gregor kept his eyes on the road.
"He told me the same thing, when he changed the agreement.
He said she would have been about your age."
I looked out the window.
The city moved past — ordinary streets, ordinary morning, people going about things that had nothing to do with any of this.
"What was her name?" I said.
"Mara," Gregor said.
I said nothing.
Just held the name quietly for a moment.
May you like
Then I put my hand on my stomach.
She moved.
