Even Irvin, who just moments ago insisted that all I needed to do was apologize, couldn’t hold his stance anymore.
He looked at me, his expression colder than before. “Emilia, this is your last chance. If you still refuse to admit what you did, then go to prison.”
If I continued to deny everything, he would have no choice but to let me face the consequences.
He couldn’t keep letting Julianne suffer. She had been only 19–soyoung, with her whole life ahead of her–when Phillip assaulted her. Her youth, her future, everything was destroyed.
She had been carrying that burden for years, and Irvin couldn’t let her endure it any longer. He couldn’t let her, the victim, continue to be mocked, ridiculed, and accused of being a gold digger who had slept with an older man for money.
No matter how much he loved me, he couldn’t let Julianne suffer like that.
If I knew what he was thinking at that moment, I would’ve felt nothing but disgust.
This so–called “love” he claimed to have for me–was this what it looked like?
Declaring that he cared deeply for me while condemning me without ever once explaining what I’d done wrong? Punishing me to compensate for his precious Julianne? And then, somehow, feeling like he was the one being wronged in all of this?
If unconditional favoritism could be called suffering, I’d gladly take some of that suffering myself.
Ignoring his self–righteousness, I kept my voice steady and said, “Hand the video over to the police.”
I couldn’t remember this supposed incident, but I knew myself at 19. No matter how much I disliked Julianne, I would never stoop so low as to drug her and set her up to be harmed.
If I were capable of that, I wouldn’t have let her walk all over me for all these years.
Irvin’s face twisted with anger, and he staggered slightly as if my words had physically hit him.
“Emilia,” he said, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you think I’d never send you to prison? Do you really think I’d let you get away with this?”
He thought I was banking on his supposed love for me, using it as a shield to defy him.
I wanted to laugh in his face.
If he truly believed he loved me, he needed to take a good look in the mirror. This wasn’t love–it was control wrapped in self-
delusion.
“Please,” I wanted to tell him, “use that love on Julianne instead.”
Irvin, enraged by what he saw as my arrogance, decided I needed to be taught a lesson. A real one.
So, while I had been the one to call the police, I ended up being the one escorted away in handcuffs.
As I was being taken out, Julianne played her part perfectly. She clung to Mom and Dad and Irvin, her voice soft and full of
concern.
As the officers took me away, Julianne put on a show of being sweet and concerned, gently urging Mom, Dad, and Irvin to calm down. But beneath that facade, she shot me a venomous glare.
Her eyes seemed to say, “Emilia, you’re not coming out of this alive.”
Honestly? I was scared.
But I knew one thing—if I apologized publicly, I’d be admitting guilt. And once I did that, there would be no way to clear my
name.
1/2
Chapter 94
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