Marcus’s finger paused for an instant. His heart pounded as if it might leap out of his chest. He was afraid. He knew that once he pressed the button, his life would take a completely different turn. But the truth was a force that could not be denied.
Marcus lowered his finger. The video began to play.
The 4K footage was sharp enough to show every strand of hair. The camera captured the entire hallway.
On the screen, David appeared holding a damp cloth, ready to dust the small table in the corner of the hallway. Then Vivian entered. She wore her magnificent emerald-green gown, but there was nothing graceful about her stride. The expression on her face in the video was openly aggressive and vicious.
She snatched the cloth from the old man’s hand and threw it to the floor. Then she pulled a stack of papers from her purse, thrust them against David’s chest, and began hurling insults at him. The camera’s high-quality microphone captured every sharp, venomous word, which rang clearly from the phone’s speaker:
“You penniless old fool! Who do you think you are, standing in my way? This house and all of Marcus’s shares will belong to me sooner or later! Sign this, then pack your things and go quietly to a nursing home—or I’ll make your own son throw you out onto the street!”
On the recording, David firmly turned away and pushed the documents aside.
Then the most horrifying moment unfolded before the four of them:
Vivian stepped back and looked toward the window, as if she had heard a car horn in the distance. A cruel glint flashed in her eyes. She grabbed the ceramic vase from the shelf, splashed the vase water over herself, then viciously swung its edge straight into David’s face! The blow was so hard that the old man stumbled into the corner of the wall, clutching his face in pain.
She still wasn’t done. She threw the vase to the floor, raked her own shoulder with her nails, tearing the seam of her expensive evening gown, then dropped to the floor and began wailing—at the exact moment the mansion’s front door flew open and Marcus rushed in!
The video ended with Marcus charging forward in a rage and choking his poor old father.
The phone screen slowly went dark.
Absolute silence engulfed the room. It was a frightening silence, heavy as a thousand tons of stone pressing down on everyone’s chest.
Vivian raised her trembling hands and clamped them over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with horror. Her knees gave way; without the wall behind her, she might have collapsed onto the cold floor. Every excuse, every crocodile tear, every cunning scenario she had so carefully staged had been laid bare by the stark light of the truth.
ACT IX: THE CONSEQUENCES AND A BELATED AWAKENING
The phone slowly slipped from Marcus’s hand and hit the wooden floor with a dry clack.
Marcus stood rooted to the spot. His face, red with anger moments earlier, turned deathly pale, then twisted with unbearable pain, shame, and regret. Every muscle in his body tightened.
He looked down at his own hands—the hands that had just been gripping the collar of the old father who had sacrificed his entire life for him. What had he done? What kind of monster had he become? He had believed a cruel swindler and nearly killed the father he loved most with his own hands.
“Dad...”
Marcus turned toward David, his voice trembling so badly he could barely speak. His powerful legs buckled. The successful, swaggering man who commanded respect in public sank to his knees before his old father, his shoulders shaking with soul-crushing anguish.
“Dad... I’m sorry... I was wrong... I was blind... What have I done?”
Marcus’s belated tears of remorse fell onto David’s worn leather shoes. He reached out to touch the hem of his father’s coat, then drew his hand back, feeling too filthy and guilty to touch him.
David looked down at his son kneeling before him. The wound on his face was still bleeding, but his eyes held only compassion mixed with an endlessly deep sadness. He did not scold him, strike back, or utter a word of reproach. His silence now was more bitter than a thousand curses.
Maya walked coldly toward Vivian, who was now curled up and trembling like a rat cornered against a wall.
“Assault, slander, extortion, and interference with property rights,” Maya said in a firm voice as she took out her phone and dialed a familiar number. “This entire video has been automatically backed up to my law office’s server. The police will be here in ten minutes. You can save those acting tears to explain yourself to a jury.”
“Marcus... save me... please forgive me just this once...” Vivian crawled toward him, desperately trying to grab his trouser leg.
Marcus slowly stood up and turned to look at Vivian. There was no love or infatuation left in his eyes—only utter disgust. He yanked his leg away and coldly brushed her hand off.
“Get out. Don’t ever let me see your face again.”
The sound of police sirens began to echo in the distance, tearing through the stillness of the night around the hillside mansions. Red and blue lights flickered through the glass windows, signaling the end of a despicable act and the beginning of a fitting sentence for bottomless greed.
In the magnificent but cold room, David let out a long, sorrowful sigh. He gently patted Maya on the shoulder, then slowly made his way toward his room. Justice had been served and the truth exposed by the unseen eye on the ceiling, but the wounds in this family’s heart would likely take many years to heal.