The medical staff pushed Howard and Selena into the emergency treatment room, while I sat on the bench outside. In my arms was Dolce, sleeping. But it was a fitful sleep. She kept holding onto my sleeve. The security guards and I gave a simple statement. The neighbors, too, testified on their own. Mrs. Xanders sat down beside me and sighed, “Philip, we always thought that your wife had a hard time raising Dolce alone, and we’ve only just learned about how pitiful a life Dolce had.”I stared at Dolce’s face and felt as if my heart had been stung by needles. Just then, a middle-aged woman rushed over. It was Zanda Zimmer, Howard’s mother. In the past, she often said that I was like a son to her. Whenever Howard asked me for money, a car, or a house, she would say, “Philip, you grew up together. Howard doesn’t have any siblings. You need to help him.”I truly did treat Howard as my brother.When Zanda arrived in front of me, the first thing she did was not to ask me what had ha
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