The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 1272

He himself was under house arrest, confined to this small space, awaiting legal judgment.

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this!” Vincent roared, violently slamming the newspaper onto the floor with a dull thud.

His eyes were bloodshot, swirling with a storm of rage and despair.

His hands clenched into tight fists, his nails digging so deep into his palms that they drew blood.

How could he accept it?

He had been just one step from success, only to be utterly ruined at the final moment.

***

Elsewhere, at an elementary school in the city center, the final bell rang.

Children poured out of the classrooms like a flock of chattering birds, rushing toward the playground.

Only one small figure remained behind, sitting alone in a corner of the classroom.

He kept his head down, his fingers unconsciously picking at the hem of his shirt. It was Raffy.

Ever since the news of Harold’s arrest had spread, everything at school had changed.

The friends who used to play with him now avoided him, whispering behind his back. Their words were like needles piercing his heart.

“His dad’s a criminal, a traitor!”

“Stay away from him. He’s probably a bad kid, too!”

“My teacher said that the children of people like that can’t be any good!”

Raffy heard every single word.

He clutched his shirt, his eyes turning red, but he fought back the tears.

He wanted to argue, to shout, *My dad isn’t Harold!*

But when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. Besides, Alexander wasn’t his dad, either.

He lowered his gaze and bit his lip hard.

The bell for the next class rang, and the children scattered, leaving the classroom quiet again.

Raffy remained crouched in the corner, sobbing softly.

The sight of his small, lonely back was heartbreaking, but it did nothing to dispel the chill that had settled over him.

He didn’t know what he had done wrong or why everyone was treating him this way.

All he knew was that Daddy Chapman hadn't come home in a long time, and the atmosphere at home was suffocating.

He had no idea that the bitter feud of the adults had already swept him up, making him the most innocent victim in their war.

Raffy stayed crouched on the floor, with nowhere to go.

Just then, his homeroom teacher appeared and asked him to come to her office.

The teacher looked at him with a hint of pity, but her words were firm.

“With your family’s situation, the school cannot allow you to continue attending.”