Chapter 3

Caleb's eyes darted erratically around the room. His lips parted and closed as he stammered, "I-I…"

"Second question," I coldly interrupted. "After you graduated high school, why did I make you stay in Arielwood for college?"

It shouldn't be a tough question. We lived in Arielwood, the capital city, with excellent local resources. 90% of the neighborhood kids chose to stay local for college.

I remembered the day the acceptance letter arrived and how the neighbors had praised Caleb for being thoughtful, having chosen a local college just to take care of me.

But was that really the truth?

In high school, Caleb had decent grades with his teachers and me keeping close watch. The moment he entered college, though, he completely let loose.

Failing classes became the norm, to the point where he faced expulsion for personal reasons.

I had swallowed my pride and reached out to a classmate I hadn't spoken to in 30 years. Through his connections, I found a distant middleman who eventually introduced me to the dean of Caleb's college, Chuck Conrad.

After years of paying for Celia's medical bills, I had no money saved and zero resources to offer in exchange. All I could do was bring him baskets of fresh farm eggs, volunteer to clean his yard, and wash his car.

With experience from years of caring for Celia, I even took on the task of caring for Chuck's bedridden, incontinent elderly mother by giving her physical therapy massages for five hours every single day.

Whenever I was with Chuck, I would constantly talk about Caleb and about how kind and responsible he was. I would go on and on about how he helped with chores and cared for his comatose mother, using those stories as an excuse for his failing grades.

Moved by Caleb's "devotion", Chuck finally softened.

From then on, I cared for his bedridden mother with greater dedication and asked for nothing in return. Chuck was a kind man who paid me a generous wage that was enough to cover Celia's expensive medical bills.

That was also how Chuck noticed Caleb, who was later invited to join research projects and offered a position at a government research institute.

It was the kind of stable, prestigious, and high-paying job everyone dreamed of. I thought that our lives were finally getting better after so many years of hardship.

But Caleb clearly turned down every job offer from Chuck with a simple reason—I was overly controlling and wouldn't allow it.

To make matters worse, I was abruptly fired and lost most of my income for casually mentioning to Chuck that he should feed his mother fewer potatoes since they were hard to digest.

Looking at the deep frown on Caleb's face now, I was genuinely curious as to how he would answer.

"You made me stay in Arielwood because of your control issues. You wanted to chain me closer to your side," he said, smiling bitterly. His reddened eyes drew a wave of sympathy from the crowd.

He, a six-foot-three man, buried his face in his jacket and sobbed until his shoulders shook nonstop. Even strands of his hair projected vulnerability.

Sniffling, he said in a hoarse voice, "I'm grown up now, Dad. I have my own thoughts.

"For the first 20 years of my life, I always did what you told me, but I'm an adult now. I have my family and child, so you can't keep me tied to you forever…"

He stared at me and said word by word in a slow, clear voice, "I'm not your accessory, Dad. I'm a whole human being myself."

"Well said!" someone in the crowd exclaimed under their breath, immediately sparking a quiet wave of agreement throughout the courtroom.

The looks directed at me shifted from skepticism to anger and disgust. The entire room was filled with silent support for Caleb, and the collective pressure of their stares weighed heavily on my shoulders.

My gaze swept across Caleb and did not even linger for a second.

"True. You aren't wrong about that."

Before he could brighten up in delight, I continued, "But you're just half right."

Now, not just Caleb, but everyone in the courtroom seemed puzzled by my response.

"I didn't make you stay in Arielwood for college because I wanted to keep you close. I did it because I needed to keep you away from Emery."

With that, I looked at a corner of the jury box. The entire courtroom followed my gaze and pivoted in unison.

The chaotic whisper came to an abrupt halt, and only a dead, suffocating silence remained.

Emery Weaver wasn't an unfamiliar name. She was a regular target of Arielwood's anti-prostitution crackdowns and a woman who had spent more than a decade working as a prostitute in Floral Street.