Chapter 8
“Are you saying you subjectively intended to kill him?“||
I quickly react: “How could 17 At his age, unable to find a suitable donor, he’d die soon anyway. Why would I need to do anything extra?–
“He was scared to death by the second explosion. I want to ask–why did you set off a second explosion?”
Well…
I explain: “I didn’t expect a second explosion either. Maybe my homemade bomb wasn’t stable enough…”
Officer Williams continued: “About Harrison Carter–we confirmed at the hospital that his heart came from your mother. What exactly happened before?“||
I lower my eyes, my thoughts returning to years ago.
I had just finished high school when my mother died in a car accident.
She had signed organ donation papers, and her heart was transplanted to a respected professor.
To stay close to my mother, I secretly looked up the recipient’s information and applied to his university, successfully becoming his graduate student.
Harrison Carter was very good to me at first.
Until I signed an organ donation agreement.]
From then on, Harrison Carter pushed all the dangerous experiments onto me. If not for luck, I’d probably be dead.]
Later I had several car accidents, big and small, and finally realized something was wrong
He even had his own son get drunk and take me street racing.
Unfortunately, when the passenger side was about to hit a truck, a small car crashed into us from the side, sending our car straight into an artificial lake []
The small car contained my husband Lucas Hayes–I was pregnant with our daughter then.
I was unharmed, but the professor’s son stayed forever in that artificial lake.
Later I returned to my hometown with my daughter. To better care for her, I became an ordinary preschool teacher.
I thought when Lucas returned, our family of three could finally be happy together.
But that old bastard Harrison Carter still wouldn’t give up–he actually bribed the principal to kidnap my daughter!
Speaking of this. I can’t help asking “Who was that child you found? Is she okay?“]
Officer Williams explains: “We checked her identity. She’s from a neighboring town, but her family’s poor so she doesn’t attend preschool. That day she snuck in to play with your daughter.”
“Harrison Carter’s people kidnapped them both, but threw her in the hidden room between the two bathrooms.“]
“But thankfully she was there–it led us to discover that room. The child survived by drinking water dripping from pipes and eating moss.”
I feel a wave of relief.]
If we hadn’t discovered the room between the bathrooms, I couldn’t have confirmed the child was moved to the school bus.
After all, the room only has two doors, both classrooms have surveillance. To take away a living child, you’d need tools.[]
If it had been any later, once police stopped focusing on the school and the bus took kids home, my daughter would have been taken away too.
Now I only have one remaining question.]
But I can only ask one person about that.
Soon my verdict came–much lighter than I’d expected.]
According to Officer Williams, because I had turned on livestreaming in the passage, everyone knew Harrison Carter wasn’t a good person.
Sentencing also considers public opinion, and many netizens supported me.]
I
They said I only scared a scumbag to death–not exactly heinous
But I did endanger public safety with explosives, so prison was deserved.]]
In prison, what I looked forward to most was when my husband brought our daughter to visit.[]
My daughter showed me family portraits she drew.[]
My husband said he sponsored that little girl’s education, and she and our daughter became good friends at their new preschool
As for the principal, she was also sentenced for assisting Harrison Carter
And I wasn’t idle in prison either.
I finally had time to study and research.
Soon I earned sentence reduction for inventing a new type of explosive
I was ricased in less than three years and even got a new government job
When I walked out the prison gates, many people came
My husband and my daughter ran into my arms.
n justice.”
Officer Williams smiled: “No more crimes now. You should trust in
I nodded firmly: “Never again.”
On the way home, I asked my husband: “I’ve thought it over–there’s only one possibility for him to survive after I shot. Why was there no bullet in the gun?”
He hugged me: “To scare people. How could I really let you kill someone?”
I understood his meaning.
Warmth filled my palm as my husband squeezed my hand, smiling gently: “Don’t overthink it. We’re starting a new life now.”
