4

Malisa's POV

Eric stared at me with eyes full of anger that pretended to be sincere, like an actor who almost believed too much in the role he was playing. There was something sharp in his gaze, like a flash of fire that was trying to be hidden behind a forced smile. His eyes were scornful.

I could feel the tension pent up in his demeanor, an inner battle that he was trying to hide behind a mask of fake anger. Every movement of his body was tense, as if he was on the verge of exploding, but trying to hold himself back.

On the other hand, Serena's homeroom teacher tried to maintain a calm face, but I could see a faint uncertainty emerging. Her lips were tightly closed, her eyes focused on the crowd, trying to control the increasingly unruly situation. But her fingers that held the microphone were shaking slightly.

The subtle movement, though small, showed that she was not as strong as she tried to appear. There was panic slowly creeping beneath the surface of her calm, like an invisible wave in a calm ocean. With each passing second, the burden she had to carry grew heavier.

I approached the small body lying in front of the hall, the "lifeless" Serena. Gently, I touched her cold hand, creating the perfect scene for the camera to focus on us.

“I’m here, Serena,” I whispered softly, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up my voice.

The crowd fell silent, except for the sound of breathing and the sound of the camera. Eric stepped closer, raising his voice in dramatic anger.

“Stop pretending, Malisa! This is all your fault! Just admit that you caused this!”

I stood up slowly, turning my back to Serena. My smile was faint, but it was enough to make Eric and the homeroom teacher look even more uneasy. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and I could feel the discomfort filling the air.

Serena, who was behind me, looked unsure of what to do. Meanwhile, Eric kept glancing at me, as if looking for a clue as to what was going to happen next. The homeroom teacher, with a serious face, tried to keep the situation under control, but the tension between us was growing.

I knew that the decision I made would affect everyone in the room. Even though I tried to stay calm, my mind was spinning rapidly, thinking about my next move. In this moment, I had to be able to show confidence and courage, even though feelings of doubt still haunted me.

“I do have something to confess,” I said, looking directly into the camera.

The crowd moved forward in unison, like an unstoppable wave, closing in to make sure not a word was missed. Expectant and suspicious faces filled the room, like an audience hungry for answers in a heated drama.

With each step they took they brought more pressure, the air growing denser with whispers and piercing stares. The energy of the crowd was almost tangible, pressing, as if forcing me to speak even though I had no intention of saying anything.

Eric stepped closer, his movements calculated. The expression on his face was so confident, a mixture of patience and expectation, as if he was absolutely certain I would give him the confession he was waiting for.

The way he looked at me, with that piercing, searching gaze, was a challenge, as if the courage to remain silent would only prolong the fight. But I stood my ground, letting it all play out, knowing that any small movement would further inflame a situation that was already spiraling out of control.

“I am here to reveal the truth,” I continued, my voice calm, even as the atmosphere around me grew increasingly heated. “The truth about what happened to Serena and who was truly responsible for this tragedy.”

I turned around, facing Eric and the homeroom teacher.

“Eric, you said I was a cruel and vicious mother. You said I hit Serena. You even showed me the ‘evidence’ of bruises on your own body to back up that story,” I said in a low voice.

I took a step closer. Eric looked uneasy, but he tried to keep his expression filled with hatred.

“But I have to ask you, Eric… How is it possible that Serena, our daughter, walked out of the house this morning with no injuries, only to be covered in bruises and cuts that were weeks old within hours? Do you have an answer to that?”

I moved closer again, this time looking her in the eye. Her smile faded, replaced by a wary expression. Serena’s homeroom teacher looked down, avoiding my gaze.

Eric tried to laugh a little, nervously.

“That… that’s just bullshit. You want to distract from the fact that you—”

“I have proof,” I interrupted, loud enough to silence the crowd again. I pulled out my phone and played the recording. On the recording, a man was talking into the phone in a hurried voice.

“Make sure all the bruises look convincing. And don’t forget, Serena has to tell me that her mother did this. Otherwise, it’s all for nothing.”

The voice was clear—too clear to deny. It was Eric’s voice. The crowd froze. Eric's face paled. Reporters began whispering among themselves, cameras focused directly on his face.

“Wait! It wasn’t me!” he shouted in panic. “The tape was faked! It’s all lies!”

“Of course it is. Like the lie about me hurting Serena, or the lie about you being a perfect father. You’re a good liar, Eric. But now, the truth is coming out,” I said coldly.

I turned my gaze to the homeroom teacher, who was sweating and looked like she wanted to run from the scene.

“And you,” I said softly, but with enough force to make her stiffen. “I want to know how much money you got to play this game.”

She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but no sound came out. There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity, before the crowd erupted into a roar. Voices mingled, filled with confusion and uncertainty.

Questioning eyes began to focus on Eric and the homeroom teacher, who looked confused, as if they didn’t know what to say. They just stood there, unable to come up with an explanation that would ease the growing anxiety.

The crowd began to move, spreading out and filling every corner of the room with an increasingly uncontrollable energy. Some people began to glance, trying to find answers in the faces of Eric and the homeroom teacher, but both remained silent, only able to look at each other with obvious anxiety. Their faces paled, while the people around them began to glance at each other suspiciously, as if there was something hidden.

I stepped back a little, away from the center of attention, but I couldn't ignore the chaos that was happening around me. Everything that's happening now seems to be flowing so fast, like an unstoppable current. No one could control what was happening, and the more people involved, the harder it was to return things to normal.

The truth would do the rest.