“Mom, if you’re reading this… look under the bed. Then you’ll understand everything.”
My breath caught. Beneath the bed, a shoebox. Inside, items that shouldn’t have been there: a man’s belt, a cracked watch—Mark’s—and a silver flash drive. On it, a video of Chloe. Pale, scared, trembling:
“Mom… it wasn’t an accident. He’s dangerous. Go to the police.”
Mark stepped into the room, calm but menacing. My grief transformed into razor-sharp clarity. Chloe hadn’t just left a note; she had left a directive. A plan to ensure I’d see the truth.
I gripped my phone, emergency line dialed, ready to honor her memory. Chloe’s final act had given me the courage to fight—for justice, and for anyone else he might harm.
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