Part 8: The Reveal
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Patricia blinked, confused by his tone. "Darling... what are you talking about?"
Emiliano didn't look at her. He looked up at the top of the stairs. "Daniela. Martina. Come down here."
The girls slowly descended the stairs, their eyes darting nervously toward Patricia. When they reached the bottom, Emiliano knelt in front of them. For the first time all morning, the coldness left his eyes. He pulled both of his daughters into a tight, desperate embrace.
"I am so sorry," he whispered into their hair, his voice breaking. "I am so, so sorry I didn't see it. I promise you, you will never have to be afraid in this house again."
He stood up, turning his back on Patricia, and signaled to his head of security.
The security chief stepped forward holding an iPad. He tapped the screen and mirrored the display onto the massive smart TV mounted in the adjacent formal living room.
The video began to play.
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The high-definition footage filled the screen, the audio crystal clear. “When your father isn't around, you'll do what I say the first time!” “I'm executing the plan today... I'll plant them in her locker...” “He’s so blind with guilt... he believes whatever I tell him.”
As Patricia’s own venomous voice echoed off the marble walls of the foyer, the color entirely drained from her face. She stumbled backward as if she had been physically struck.
