Chapter 3

"Have you seen the video, Cameron?" Kieran exclaimed. "It went viral! All the netizens are talking about you!"

His voice was colored with a mixture of excitement and curiosity when he continued, "But… Everyone has a terrible opinion of you now. Your father's image is too perfect… You have to give me an explanation, or I won't be able to continue."

"An explanation?" I asked calmly as if I was just talking about the weather.

"That's right! An explanation! Or just give me a reason that will help me understand why you're doing this."

Kieran paused for a moment before continuing in a hushed voice, "Everyone thinks that you're a lunatic—a demon who tortures his own father. They're going to utterly destroy your reputation if you don't say something."

I remained silent and listened to Kieran's anxious breathing. I knew that he needed a reason to convince himself to continue doing what I asked of him.

"Mr. Wilcox," I said. "Do you believe what you see? Or do you believe me?"

It was an unfair question.

Kieran hadn't even known me for 48 hours. On top of that, the evidence in the video seemed so conclusive and so touching to the point that it made one shed tears.

The silence on the other end of the line stretched on.

I didn't urge Kieran to answer and just quietly waited.

"I… I only believe in the truth," he finally answered in a dry voice, showing his final determination as a reporter.

"Very good," I said slowly. "Go to the recycling center in Westhill tomorrow and keep filming him."

…

Kieran sent an encrypted livestream link to me the next day at 3:00 pm.

I tapped on the link.

The footage was a little unstable, making it clear that Kieran was filming in secret.

The camera was aimed at the recycling center.

Dad crouched in the middle of a small mountain of discarded cardboard and plastic bottles. He moved skillfully as he used a small knife to cut the ropes that were tying the cardboard and bottles together, separating and flattening them.

His movements were swift, and the expression on his face suggested that he felt a sense of accomplishment for his hard work.

Comments flooded the livestream.

"Oh, my god. Mr. Locke really has it rough."

"He's the epitome of a great father. He's still collecting trash for his ungrateful son's sake."

"People like Cameron should just die!"

My face was devoid of emotion as I scrolled through the comments.

…

Dad finally finished sorting through the trash two hours later. He dragged a few heavy, woven bags toward the weighing scale.

The supervisor of the recycling center shot a disdainful look at him before spitting out, "37 dollars and 50 cents."

Dad carefully accepted the wrinkled bills and meticulously smoothed them out. He then slipped them into his pocket, treating them as if they were precious treasures.

Just then, a refined, young woman, who was carrying a backpack and wearing a pair of black-framed glasses, appeared. When she spotted Dad, her eyes lit up for a split second before dimming again. She fixed an embarrassed expression on her face before speaking slowly.

"Sir… I…"

"What's wrong, miss?" Dad asked gently. "Did you run into trouble?"

The young woman introduced herself as Quinn Jonas, a poor university student. She explained that her family was struggling financially. On top of that, her mother was severely ill. Although she had managed to get into a prestigious school, she didn't have enough money to even pay for a ticket to go home.

Her acting was terrible, and her eyes kept darting around guiltily. Her spotless sneakers completely contradicted the "poor student" image that she was trying to paint herself as.

Dad didn't hesitate for even a second upon hearing her words. His hands trembled as he pulled out the money that he had just gotten from his inner pocket. The bills and coins were still warm from his body heat. He also pulled out what little money he had left and pressed it into Quinn's hands.

"Take this, miss. I hope you don't mind that I don't have much money to begin with."

Tears welled up in Quinn's eyes out of "gratitude". She thanked him profusely.

Chaos erupted in the livestream. The screen was covered in a wall of praise.