They Framed My Daughter, So I Burned Them Down

4: 4

That night, the school posted an announcement.

“Our university takes the widely circulated online incident very seriously and has formed an investigation team. During the investigation, the graduate-school recommendation process and all honors evaluations for the student surnamed Henson are suspended.”

Less than ten minutes after it went up, someone turned Lucretia's photo into a meme.

The caption read “Grandma, I'll buy your life with fake money.”

I switched off my phone.

The doorbell rang.

Outside, Patrick stood in the hallway with two other men, a bag of dead shrimp swinging from his hand.

He smiled up at the camera above the door.

“Lucretia, come out and apologize.”

“You don't, and tomorrow I'll make sure the whole building knows you're a scammer.”

By the time Theodore Henson got back, Patrick was kicking at our door.

“Bang! ”

“Bang! ”

Every kick landed like it was hitting Lucretia straight in the chest.

She was curled into the corner of the couch, both hands over her ears.

I'd already called the police, but Theodore couldn't wait.

He shoved through the hallway door and rushed over.

“What do you think you're doing!”

Patrick spun and threw a punch.

Theodore flinched back, and it still caught the corner of his mouth.

Blood came at once.

Cold went through me.

The scene from my last life dropped over this one.

Theodore at the foot of the stairs, and the doctor saying:

“The family should prepare for long-term care.”

I ran out and grabbed Theodore.

“Don't fight him!”

Patrick only laughed.

“Oh, the man of the house is home?”

He threw the bag of dead shrimp on the ground, and the reeking water ran to our doorstep.

“Your daughter passed fake money to con my mother, your wife called my mother a fraud.”

“Quite the family you've got.”

The moment the police arrived, Patrick changed his face.

“Officers, I just want some accountability. My mother's in the hospital, and this whole family keeps hiding from us.”

Neighbors leaned out into the hallway.

“Isn't that the one from online?”

“She lives in our building?”

Lucretia stood just inside the door, her face white as paper.

Early the next morning, Madeline posted a new video.

The old woman lay in a hospital bed, an oxygen tube in her nose.

On camera, she spoke weakly.

“I'm not after money.”

“I just want to teach today's young people a lesson.”

“It's fine to be educated, but you can't lose your conscience as a person.”

Under the video, Patrick posted the hospital's billing slip.

The headline was brutal.

《Female College Student Cons Elderly Woman With Counterfeit Bills, Family Refuses to Apologize, Old Woman Hospitalized From the Stress》

At ten in the morning, Julie called.

“Mrs. Henson, Lucretia has to record an apology video before eight tonight.”

I asked.

“Apologize for what?”

Julie was quiet for a few seconds.

“Admit that she handled it improperly and caused harm to the old woman.”

I laughed.

“Ms. Sullivan, do you understand that once she records it, she can never clear her name again?”

Julie lowered her voice.

“This is the college's decision. If there's no video before eight tonight, the school will formally revoke her status as a recommendation candidate.”

Lucretia sat across from me.

She heard it, and the chopsticks slipped from her hand.

I hung up.

She kept her head down.

“Mom, should I not have gone to the market?”

“It's not your fault.”

“But Dad got beaten, the school doesn't want me, and the whole internet is cursing me.”

“They're the ones who are wrong.”

She lifted her head, and the tears finally fell.

“Why is everyone wrong, and I'm the one being punished?”

That afternoon, someone posted our apartment number online.

The harassment calls came one after another.

“Is the counterfeit girl home?”

“Why isn't the scammer dead yet?”

“Send your dad out for another beating.”

Lucretia got a text from an unknown number.

“You feel wronged? Then go die and show everyone.”

She stared at that line and didn't move for a long time.

I reached for her phone.

She suddenly stood up.

“Mom, I want to sleep for a while.”

Something in me went tight.

“I'll stay with you.”

She shook her head.

“I'll leave the door open.”

She went into the room, and the door really was left ajar.

I sat in the living room, not letting my eyes leave that gap for a second.

But then Theodore called me from the kitchen.

“Edith, something's wrong with the gas.”

I turned away for less than half a minute.

When I looked back, the room was empty.

The window was open. On the desk sat that hundred-dollar bill.

A sheet of paper was pinned under it.

“Mom, I really didn't pass fake money.”

“But they all say the only way I count as truly wronged is if I die.”

My mind went blank with a roar.

“Lucy!”

I ran out the door. The elevator was stopped on the twenty-first floor.

The rooftop door was half open, wind howling in through it.

Lucretia stood at the edge of the roof.

Down below, a crowd of streamers held up their gear.

Someone shouted through a bullhorn.

“Counterfeit girl, come out and apologize!”

“Stop playing dead!”

“You feel wronged? Then jump!”

Lucretia turned to look at me, her eyes red enough to shatter.

“Mom.”

She smiled, just a little.

“They said if I jump, they'll believe me.”

And with that, she let go of the railing.