PART 13 — THE FINAL SECRET ON THE DEATHBED
The words stuck in my throat as Lucas entered the kitchen. He saw immediately from my face that something was wrong. His smile vanished and his eyes narrowed with concern.
"Mom, what happened? Is something wrong with Dad at the hospital?" he asked quickly as he walked to the table.
I shook my head tremblingly and placed the letter and the photo on the table. Lucas looked at them, grabbed the paper, and read the lines. I watched the color drain from his face and his jaw tighten firmly.
"Who sent this?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice.
"I don't know," I answered with tears in my eyes. "There was no sender. But Lucas... what does this mean? What kind of secret has your father been keeping from us?"
Lucas was silent for a moment. He looked at the old photo of me in the park. Then he raised his head and looked deep into my eyes.
"We're going to the hospital," he said resolutely. "Right now. If he kept something from us, I want to hear it now. Before it's too late."
An hour later we stood at the foot of the hospital bed in the quiet room on the fourth floor. Willem lay with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath the white sheets. A clip was attached to his finger, emitting a beeping sound in a steady rhythm.
"Dad," Lucas said with a voice that echoed through the empty room.
Willem slowly opened his eyes. It took effort for him to focus, but when he saw us, a weak, sad smile appeared on his face.
"You... you're here," he whispered.
Lucas placed the letter and the photo on the blanket in front of his father. Willem stared at them, and in fractions of a second I saw something change in his eyes. All color faded from his already pale face. He began to breathe heavily; the monitor beeped faster.
"What does this mean, Father?" Lucas asked, his voice sounding harsher than he probably intended. "Who sent this? And what secret is behind it? Was it really just about money back then?"
Willem tried to sit up, but Lucas held him back. With trembling hands, the old man clutched the edge of the blanket. He looked at me, and his eyes filled with thick tears.
"Clara..." he brought out as his breath hitched. "I'm sorry... I had to do it to protect you from the only person who could truly destroy us... The same person who sent this letter now."
I felt my heart almost stop. "Who, Willem? Who on earth do you mean?!" Willem raised a trembling hand and pointed with a finger to the bedside table next to his bed, on which a small, old key lay. "In the... in the safe at home... in the second drawer all the way at the back... lies the proof," he whispered with his last strength. "In it is the name... of the one who has been hunting us for thirty years. And believe me... you know this person better than you think."
The monitor next to the bed suddenly began to emit a continuous, piercing tone. The line on the screen became straight.
