Chapter 2

The news of the accident broke at 8:40 p.m.

I sat in the 24-hour self-service area of the Government Services Center. I had just printed a receipt for a criminal-record check when my phone started vibrating nonstop.

My class group chat, family group chat, and exam-prep group all forwarded the same video.

The footage was shaky. In the video, there were rain, streetlights, and a crosswalk.

A white SUV sped through the frame. Someone had zoomed in on the license plate several times.

It was my plate.

The headlines were as vicious as blood.

[Future Government Official Kills Elderly Pedestrian and Flees?]

[Fatal Hit-and-Run Days Before Background Check—Still Wants to Join the Anti-Corruption Bureau?]

[How Does Someone Like This Deserve a Government Job?]

I stared at the screen as tightness spread through my chest.

The comments were right. Someone had died.

Whether or not that SUV was actually mine, an innocent person had already been dragged into this trap.

Vanessa called soon after. Her voice was rushed and trembling, almost as though she cried.

“Reid, where are you?”

“At the Government Services Center.”

“Did you see the video online?”

“Yes.”

She sounded relieved for a moment, or maybe even more nervous.

“Don’t panic. I’ll go with you to the traffic police station and help explain what happened. As long as you didn’t do it intentionally and you cooperate with the investigation, there’s still a chance to sort this out.”

I asked coldly, “Why are you assuming I hit someone?”

She fell silent.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that if you panicked and didn’t realize what happened at the time…”

“My car has been parked in my apartment garage since this afternoon.”

“The car in the video has your license plate.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Which means someone cloned my plate.”

There was a pause. She let out a soft sigh. “Reid, you studied law. You should know the public isn’t going to look into all those details. What matters most right now is how you handle this.”

How I handle this.

She had not even seen the evidence, and she already taught me how to behave like someone who needed to apologize.

I replied, “I’ll go to the traffic police station, but I don’t need you to come with me.”

I hung up and took a cab straight to the accident investigation division.

Before I went inside, I emailed copies of every piece of evidence to myself and uploaded them to two separate cloud drives. I organized everything chronologically.

There were the property-management surveillance footage, the wheel-lock installation record, the notarized evidence-sealing receipt, the hash value from the judicial evidence-preservation platform, my subway transit records, my check-in record at the Government Services Center, the receipt confirming my request to preserve the vehicle’s T-Box data from the 4S dealership, and the incident report number from the emergency call at the subway station where I had helped the elderly man.

When the traffic officer came to speak with me, his expression was grave.

“Reid Xander?”

“Yes.”

“A vehicle registered under your name and license plate has been implicated in a hit-and-run. We need you to account for your whereabouts around 7:20 tonight.”

I did not get angry or plead my case. I handed over the evidence, one document at a time.

“My car never left the apartment complex. My car keys and spare key were notarized and sealed before the accident happened. After six, I was at the subway station, the emergency scene, and the Government Services Center. There are independent records confirming all of it.”

As the officer went through the documents, his brow slowly furrowed. It was then that Vanessa appeared.

The moment she walked through the door, her eyes were red. She came straight to my side and reached for my hand.

“Reid, don’t try to handle this all by yourself. I know you’re under a lot of pressure. Your background check is coming up, and when people get anxious, they make mistakes.”

The officer looked up at her and asked, “And you are?”

“His fiancée.” Vanessa looked at me with concern and tenderness.

“I know he isn’t a bad person, but if there’s something he’s not telling us, I hope he’ll be honest about it.”

The words were vicious. She never directly accused me of being guilty.

Yet with those few words, she quietly slipped the words “confess and cooperate” around my neck like a noose.

I pulled my hand away. “Vanessa, I’ll say it again. I wasn’t driving, and I didn’t hit anyone.”

She gave me a bitter smile. “I’m just worried about you.”

My phone lit up. My younger half-brother, Jason Xander, had just posted on social media.

[Some people love to talk about rules until something happens. Then suddenly, all they care about is protecting their own future. What a shame for that old man.]

Attached was a photo of a white candle.

He never mentioned my name. Yet everyone we knew knew exactly who he talked about.

Half an hour later, a disciplinary officer from the government agency handling my recruitment called me.

“Reid, given the current public attention surrounding your involvement in a serious traffic accident, tomorrow’s background-check interview has been postponed. Please cooperate with the investigation and wait for further notice.”

I gripped my phone tighter and tighter.

Years of studying for this, first place on the written exam, first place in the interview, and medical clearance passed.

I was only one step away. Now someone laid a human life across the road to my future.