Chapter 4

Nathan fractured two fingers while fleeing the hospital.

But when the security footage was reviewed again the next day, my father had not moved at all.

Daniel personally accompanied him to examine the body.

My father lay quietly inside the refrigerated drawer, his skin grayish-white, lividity clearly visible, and his right hand stiffly resting at his side.

"People can hallucinate when they’re under extreme stress," Daniel said gently.

"Mr. Parker, you have been under too much pressure lately. You should get some rest."

Nathan demanded to examine my father’s hand.

There was nothing beneath his fingernails.

But five distinct black-and-purple fingerprints were clearly visible around his own wrist.

He brought the photographs to show me.

"You knew the body would move."

"I didn’t."

"Stop pretending!"

Nathan slammed his chair against the floor with a loud crash. “Mercy, what happened to your father? Why did you pull out the tube? What did you whisper in his ear?”

I looked at his hand, which was wrapped in layers of gauze.

"I asked him whether he would save me or my uncle first if we fell into the water."

"What do you mean?"

"When I was seven, my uncle and I fell into a reservoir. My father could only save one of us."

"He saved me."

"My uncle died."

Nathan froze. "But you just said your uncle drowned when your father was seven."

"Did I?"

"You clearly said..."

He suddenly stopped.

The only sound in the interview room was the faint buzz of electricity in the fluorescent lights.

I leaned closer to the glass and asked softly, "Mr. Parker, can you be certain that every word you heard yesterday was real?"

His face gradually paled.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

I leaned back into my chair. "See you at the trial."

On the day of the first hearing, the crowd outside the courthouse was so dense that no one could get through.

Some people held up framed portraits of my father, while others carried banners demanding, “She Killed Her Father, She Must Pay With Her Life!”

The moment my prison van stopped, countless rotten eggs smashed against the windows.

My mother sat in the front row of the public gallery.

In just over ten days, her hair had turned completely white.

Daniel sat beside her, wearing my father’s firefighter medal on his chest. My mother said it was not Daniel’s fault that my father had failed to survive, and the medal belonged with someone who truly saved lives.

The prosecutor played the livestream recording.

My father opened his eyes and called me Marshy.

I leaned over and asked him a question.

His expression changed abruptly.

I pulled out the tube.

My mother saw the scene again and clutched her chest as she sobbed, nearly fainting.

The judge asked, "Mercy Ryan, do you plead guilty?"

"I do."

"Did you deliberately remove your father’s breathing equipment because you were unwilling to bear the cost of his future treatment and intended to obtain the insurance payout?"

"Yes."

The curses from the gallery nearly brought down the roof.

Nathan suddenly stood up.

"Your Honor, I request permission to play the complete recording from after Gordon Ryan was revived!"

Daniel sighed. "Mr. Parker, the livestream recording was complete enough. Playing it repeatedly will only cause the family more pain."

"No. One sentence is missing."

Nathan looked at me. "Gordon Ryan said nineteen sentences after waking up, but the original footage provided by the hospital contains only eighteen."

The courtroom fell silent.

The smile faded slightly from Daniel’s face.

"Which sentence is missing?" the judge asked.

Nathan played the audio recording.

Amid the noise of the hospital room, my father’s hoarse voice rang out:

"Dr. Shaw, have I woken up before?"