Upon hearing my words, Jaylan's face became a clouded mystery. He stared at me, frozen, but his hands clenched involuntarily. It was clear that a struggle was taking place within him.
"Just imagine, Jaylan. If my kid was in his clutches, wouldn't he do the same? Isn't it terrifying?"
"He wouldn't."
I laughed sardonically, "But he killed his child. If he could bring himself to do that, what wouldn't he dare do? Poor Evan, just gone like that. If he had been given a chance to grow up, he might have been a real credit. But Jerome ruined it. Can you close your eyes? Do you dare sleep? Aren't you afraid of retribution?”
In my rage, I said whatever came to mind, releasing all the pent-up words from my heart. I felt a sense of relief wash over me.
For the sake of Evan, I subjected Jaylan to a mental interrogation.
But wasn't this also a test for me?
I had to admit, I was not free from blame in the development of these events.
I sat back down on the couch, drained, "Ask Jerome, Jaylan. When he pushed Evan into the storm drain without hesitation, did he ever consider that Evan could have been his child?"
Jaylan stepped back, "No, it couldn't have been him."
At his words, I burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly gasping for breath.
This was the most ridiculous thing I'd heard. After the laughter subsided, I leaned back, weakly, and murmured, "Go ask Jerome, Jaylan."
Jaylan stood in front of me as if he was utterly clueless about what had happened. He stayed like this for a while until the sharp ring of his phone startled him. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and his face stiffened. He sneakily glanced at me but didn't answer the call, hanging up instead.
I feigned ignorance and closed my eyes.
Jaylan hesitated, then sat next to me. I realized then that this call was significant.
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