Chapter 3

Three days later, the lock on the spare bedroom door was twisted open roughly.

Sharon stormed in, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me up from the floor by force.

"Stop playing dead! Get out here!"

She dragged me all the way to the living room and threw me beside the coffee table like a piece of trash.

The glaring lights made me shut my eyes instinctively. When I opened them again, I realized the living room was full of people.

Besides Mom and Dad, my uncle and aunt were there, and even my grandmother, who usually lived out in the country, had been brought over.

It looked exactly like a family trial.

Evan sat beside Mom with thick bandages wrapped around his right hand. His eyes were red and swollen, and he looked like a frightened rabbit.

Dad’s face was cold as he slammed a document onto the coffee table.

It was a Consent Form for Involuntary Psychiatric Commitment.

"The doctor said Evan’s wound wasn’t an ordinary burn at all. It was a serious infection from an unknown cause!"

Dad pointed at my nose and roared in furious heartbreak.

"It must have been some kind of pesticide or poison you brought back from the countryside!

"I’m your father. I can’t just stand by and watch you turn into a murderer!

“Sign this, and we’ll send you to a psychiatric hospital for inpatient treatment this afternoon!"

My throat was dry as I stared hard at the consent form, feeling as if the whole thing was beyond absurd.

Mom rushed over with red eyes and jabbed her finger hard against my forehead.

"Do you think I want to send you away? I carried you for nine months. This hurts me too!

"But how could you be this cruel? Evan even knelt on the floor and begged us not to call the police because he was afraid it would ruin your future!

“He thought of you at every turn, and you still tried to destroy him!

"Go to the hospital and get that twisted jealousy of yours treated properly. We’re doing this to save you!"

The relatives around us immediately began chiming in.

My aunt rolled her eyes. "Blood doesn’t guarantee anything. A child raised in a place like that was bound to grow up rotten."

My uncle shook his head. "Send him away quickly. Keeping him at home is like keeping a ticking time bomb. Today he could pour chemicals on someone, and tomorrow he could poison the food."

I knelt on the cold floor, listening as these "family members" passed judgment on me.

Not a single person asked me whether I had actually done it.

"I didn’t poison him." I took a deep breath, my voice hoarse. "He poured it on himself."

The moment I finished speaking, Sharon kicked me in the shoulder and sent me crashing to the floor.

"You’re still lying when you’re at death’s door! Is Evan insane enough to burn his own hand?"

Just as she raised her hand to slap me again, a soft thud suddenly came from the kitchen.

It was the sound of a mop falling over.

Wendy Wallace, the part-time housekeeper who had always cleaned for the family, stepped out from around the kitchen corner with a pale face.

She twisted her apron nervously, her voice trembling.

"Mr. Lowe, I really can’t stand by and watch this anymore. I was mopping outside that day, and I saw everything clearly through the crack in the door... Evan deliberately turned his hand and poured that bowl of hot chowder all over himself..."

The entire living room fell dead silent.

Everyone froze.

Evan’s face instantly turned pale, but he immediately threw himself into Mom’s arms and burst into heartbreaking sobs.

"Mrs. Wallace! Why would you slander me like this?

"I know Edwin gave you a few of my old designer clothes last month, but you can’t help him frame me just because you wanted a few hand-me-downs!"

Mom snapped back to her senses and charged at Wendy like a lioness gone mad.

"You shameless old hag!"

She grabbed Wendy by the hair and slapped her hard across the face.

"The Lowe family paid you to work here, and you dared to take bribes from this disgraceful son of mine and help him frame Evan!"

Wendy staggered from the blow and waved her hands again and again. "I didn’t! Everything I said was true! How can you be so unreasonable?"

Sharon’s eyes blazed with fury. She strode over and kicked over the floor scrubber beside her.

The machine crashed heavily onto Wendy’s calf. She screamed, lost her balance, and slammed her forehead hard against the corner of the entryway shoe cabinet.

Blood instantly ran down Wendy’s forehead, smearing over half her face.

"Shut up, you backstabbing bitch!" Sharon roared.

Dad stood at the side and waved a hand in disgust.

"Sharon, throw this woman out. Call the cleaning agency right now. A thief and a liar like her should never work in this industry again!"

Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward.

They ignored Wendy’s cries and struggles and dragged her out the front door like a sack of trash.