Chapter 3

I dragged the suitcase out from under the bed and began packing my clothes once the footage had been exported.

Doreen walked into the room after knocking on the door.

She had practically watched me grow up, so her face was filled with sadness when she saw me packing to leave. "There's definitely been a misunderstanding, Hugh. I'm certain that you didn't do it. You should just wait for Monica to get back and explain everything to her—"

I suddenly cut in with a question of my own before she could finish. "Do you believe I'm innocent, Doreen?"

Doreen, without any hesitation, nodded her head vigorously.

I smiled, quickly wiping away a tear as I looked down. I took out a doll I had treasured for years once I finished packing. Monica had given it to me when I was 12 years old, back when she first brought me home, and it had sat at the head of my bed ever since, keeping me company for a decade.

I handed it to Doreen and said with a smile, "I remember your granddaughter really liked this, Doreen. I'm all grown up now, so if you don't mind, please give it to her to play with."

Doreen accepted it somewhat hesitantly. "I remember Monica sewing this herself. She spent half a month on it, getting quite a few blood blisters on her fingers from all the needle pricks."

I murmured in acknowledgement, showing no discernible reaction.

I made it to the hotel with my suitcase more than half an hour later, and Monica called right away, her voice trembling with built-up rage. "Why haven't you come to the hospital after causing such a huge mess, Hugh?"

I was still feeling dizzy from her push earlier. I couldn't even find the energy to speak properly as I merely murmured, "I didn't do it…"

"Who else could it have been if it wasn't you? Get to the hospital this instant and apologize to Michael!" Monica bellowed before abruptly hanging up.

I considered it for a moment before I picked up the flash drive containing the footage and went to the hospital. I had just reached the hallway when I spotted Monica waiting outside the hospital ward.

She looked at me with a chilling expression, her face devoid of warmth. "Doreen told me you've moved out. Where did you move to?"

I caught myself for a moment, not expecting her first question to be about that. I extended my hand toward her instead of replying to her question, showing her the flash drive I had been clutching the entire way. "I wasn't the one who pushed him. I can show—"

Monica swatted the flash drive away before I could even finish my sentence. "What kind of lies are you trying to spread about Michael? Why are you being so petty when Michael is only staying for a single night?"

She looked indescribably disappointed as she asked, "How did you end up like this?"

She then went back to the question she had asked before. "Where did you move to?"

I paused as I reached down to pick up the flash drive. I then stated coldly, "It's none of your business."

In that instant, a deathly silence suddenly gripped the surroundings.

I felt that something was off, so I turned around to look.

Monica had already stepped right up to me, her bright red fingernails digging hard into my arm. Her eyes filled with rage, while the veins on her forehead were practically popping. "Did that wretched lover of yours tell you to move away?"

I was completely baffled. I was just about to ask who exactly this lover was when a figure suddenly flashed across my mind.

I realized she was talking about Cora Livingston, a childhood friend with whom I had grown up in the same town. I had saved her from drowning in the reservoir when we were young, and even when I left the town, we still kept in touch.

Monica had mocked our relationship on more than one occasion.

I remembered one summer when Cora had traveled all the way to Astoria alone just to bring me fruit from our hometown. She happened to encounter Monica coming home, but Monica said nothing then.

Monica, however, turned around and threw all the fruit into the dog bowl while I was sleeping and even grabbed me by the hair, warning me to keep my distance and behave myself.

I calmly pushed her away after listening to her intolerable insults. "It has nothing to do with you."

Monica's eyes turned bloodshot with rage. She then nodded repeatedly before she placed her hand on my groin.

"Is it really none of my business? Who was the one holding onto me and wouldn't let go? Who was crying and begging me not to ignore them? Who exactly was the one taking off my clothes and crawling into my bed in the middle of the night?"

Upon hearing her string of accusations, I finally understood how utterly shameless I was in my past life. I merely chuckled softly, without getting defensive like she thought I would, and without throwing a humiliating tantrum.