Chapter 2054 - 845: Power Must Be Held in Check!

Victor looked at Sinopiquiar on the screen.

The person hung their head, motionless.

Bramo stood beside him.

"Mr. Victor, the verdict is expected tomorrow."

Victor nodded.

"After the verdict, let that woman see him once."

Bramo was slightly stunned.

"See him again?"

Victor looked at him.

"Let that woman tell him in person that she forgives him."

Bramo was taken aback.

"Mr. Victor, how could she possibly forgive—"

"She won't." Victor interrupted him, "But she can say it."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"Sinopiquiar needs to hear those words. Whether or not they're true."

He paused.

"That child needs it too."

February 24, 1998, morning, courtroom.

The verdict was delivered.

The judge stood up and the courtroom rose.

"Defendant Sinopiquiar, guilty of intentional homicide, crimes against humanity, abuse of power, and sixteen other charges. According to Mexican criminal law, sentenced—"

He paused.

"To death. Execution immediately."

The courtroom erupted in applause.

The woman sitting in the front row did not clap.

She just looked at Sinopiquiar.

Sinopiquiar stood there, his legs so weak he could hardly stand.

As he was dragged away by the bailiff, he passed by the woman.

She stood up, looking at him.

"Sinopiquiar."

He stopped.

She took a step closer.

"I forgive you."

Sinopiquiar froze.

He looked into her eyes, trying to find something—sarcasm? Anger? Hatred?

There was nothing.

Only calm.

"I forgive you," she repeated.

Then she turned and left.

Sinopiquiar stood there, tears streaming down.

He didn't know what to say.

He only knew that finally, in his life, he could now die.

February 25, 1998, early morning, Northern Prison.

Sinopiquiar was executed.

By injection.

The process was swift, less than ten minutes.

Before he died, he said one last sentence:

"Diego, I'm sorry."

No one heard.

But that woman, in her own room, suddenly woke up.

She didn't know why she awoke.

Just felt that something had ended.

February 25, 1998, morning, National Palace.

Bramo placed the execution report on Victor's desk.

Victor glanced at it without speaking.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the parade on Paseo de la Reforma had dispersed.

Only a few people remained, standing there, holding signs.

The words on the signs had changed:

"Thank you, Victor."

Victor looked at those signs, silent for a long time.

Then he spoke, his voice very soft:

"Tell Diego's aunt, the Mexican Government will cover her entire living expenses. Whether she wants to live in Mexico or go back to Ecuador, it's up to her."

Bramo nodded.

"Also," Victor said, "erect a real monument at that street corner in Guayaquil. Not some temporary small sign, a real monument. With all the victims' names engraved."

He paused.

"Put that child's name at the top."

Bramo nodded.

Victor turned around.

"Bramo."

"Yes."

"Do you know what I was thinking today?"

Bramo shook his head.

Victor looked at him.

"I was thinking, if thirty years ago someone told me I would become like this today, would I have believed it?"

Bramo said nothing.

Victor laughed.

The smile was very faint.

"No. Back then I was just someone who wanted to live."

He returned to his desk and sat down.

"But as time went by, I became like this."

He looked out the window.

"Maybe this is fate."