Beatrice greeted us with a smile.
She knew exactly who I was.
“You survived,” she said.
“I did.”
She laughed.
“You think arresting Lucas ends this?”
“No.”
I placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Gertrude.
Then another.
It showed Beatrice.
Same mother.
Same father.
Same family records.
“You’re Gertrude’s sister.”
Her smile disappeared.
Before she could move, tactical officers stormed through the doors.
The club was surrounded.
Her escape routes were blocked.
Within minutes, the entire offshore operation collapsed.
Authorities froze the accounts.
Properties were seized.
Fake passports were recovered.
Victims who had disappeared for years were finally identified.
