Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
The storm broke on a Tuesday. A black SUV crept up the winding mountain path, its headlights cutting through the thick, swirling mist. Amalia watched from the shadows of the attic, her breath held tight. She recognized the driver: it was one of the men she had seen in the background of a family photograph, a henchman for the shell company.
He stepped out, and following him was Beatrix. Her aunt looked older, her face pinched with a mixture of annoyance and malice. "She has to be here," Beatrix spat, her voice carrying easily in the thin, cold air. "Find the box and bring the girl."
Amalia didn't wait. She had anticipated this. She had rigged the ruin to be a trap. As they entered the house, she triggered the first tripwire—a heavy iron beam she had balanced above the door. It crashed down, blocking the exit and sealing them inside.
She then emerged from the shadows of the attic, not with a weapon, but with the box. She placed it on the crooked table and opened it, letting the photographs spill out.
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"You didn't erase them," Amalia said, her voice echoing in the small, cramped room. "You just gave them back their history."
Beatrix turned, her eyes widening in genuine terror. She saw the deed in Amalia's hand. At that exact moment, the sound of sirens echoed up the mountain. Amalia had sent the coordinates to the journalist, who had coordinated with the authorities. The "ruin" was about to become the site of a high-profile arrest.
