2#02

2

My mother's face flushed crimson with rage. Just as she was about to speak in my defense, Patricia interrupted her with a harsh tone.

"Sheila may appear innocent, but she's actually a ruthless killer!"

"Want to know how we discovered your daughter started the fire? It's all thanks to your upstanding son-in-law. He's been canvassing the neighborhood these past few days, searching for her!"

Upon hearing this, my anger surged. Denver was behind this again!

He believed the falsehoods of his childhood love and accused me of arson. He even claimed my parents were concealing me, causing my father to be hospitalized. Now, he was sullying our name throughout the community.

This man was utterly merciless!

Due to Denver's actions, my parents could no longer bear living in the neighborhood. My father decided it was time to move.

"Our daughter didn't kill anyone," he stated resolutely. "We'll retreat to the countryside for now. When the truth emerges, we'll come back."

As they gathered their possessions and approached the neighborhood exit, they encountered Denver.

My mother, in desperation, stepped forward and implored, "Denver, could you please..."

Before she could complete her sentence, Denver seized them.

"You're attempting to escape?!" he barked.

His loud accusation caught the neighbors' attention, who swiftly assembled around them.

"Isn't that Zandro? What's happening?"

"His daughter committed arson and hurt people. Now he and his wife are hiding her!"

My parents, who had always been generous to others, were now being publicly denounced. Tears flowed down their cheeks.

"Our daughter didn't harm anyone..." they wept.

Denver raised his voice for all to hear. "They're sheltering a fugitive and trying to run. If anyone spots Sheila, inform the police immediately!"

The crowd pointed and murmured cruel comments.

"I always suspected these two weren't good people."

"Concealing a murderer—we should avoid their family from now on."

My father grasped Denver's arm, his voice trembling as he attempted to explain, "We're not fleeing! People have been insulting us, and my heart can't handle it. We just wanted to stay in the countryside temporarily."

His face, etched with wrinkles, was full of hope, as if he still believed Denver might trust him.

But Denver's expression remained stern and unforgiving. "Don't try to deceive me. I'm taking you to the police station. Sheila nearly killed Micah, and I won't let this go unpunished!"

He pushed my parents into the car so forcefully that my mother's head collided with the doorframe. Her forehead swelled instantly, and she lost consciousness.

Denver, however, showed no concern. Instead, his expression turned cold and accusatory. "Stop feigning pity! Don't think you can fool me with this act!"

Even as my father pleaded with him to go to the hospital, Denver drove directly toward the police station.

I had thought he simply distrusted me, but I hadn't expected him to be this cruel toward the elders who had loved and cared for him.

Rage and anguish overwhelmed me as I lashed out, striking Denver's face with all my might.

"Denver, you heartless monster! How could I have ever loved you?"

But my ghostly hands passed right through him, unable to inflict any harm.

Before we reached the police station, a throng of reporters surrounded the car, blocking the road.

I recalled the phone cameras in the neighborhood earlier—someone must have uploaded the footage online.

The reporters bombarded Denver with questions as soon as they saw him.

"Dr. Watkins, is it true your wife is the arsonist? Will you protect her?"

Denver replied with righteous indignation, "I'm a law-abiding citizen. I would never shield a criminal!" He pointed at my parents and continued, "These two are her parents. They've been concealing Sheila and were attempting to escape, but I caught them."

The reporters turned their attention to my parents, thrusting microphones in their faces.

"Where are you hiding the murderer?"

"Several children were injured in the fire. How can you still protect her? Don't you feel any remorse?"

The constant camera flashes hurt my parents' eyes. My mother struggled to defend me.

"Our daughter didn't start the fire. We..."

But before she could finish, the reporters interrupted her with a barrage of accusatory questions, each more cutting than the last.

"Did you know about Sheila's arson plans beforehand?"

"Were you involved in helping her flee after the crime?"