You Faked Your Deaths to Punish Me?! That’s Illegal, Family! novel Chapter 76

Chapter 3

Once the cops calmed me down, they finally brought in my daughter’s class president and his parents.

His name was Jake Miller.

Round glasses. Quiet, bookish look.

The kind of kid teachers call “well-behaved.”

Not the kind you’d think could bully a girl into her grave.

The second I saw him, I wanted to lunge across the room and slap his smug face.

The officers had to hold me back.

Jake’s parents flanked him like he was some kind of precious angel.

Their eyes burned with disgust-at me.

Finally, his mom broke the silence.

She crouched down in front of me, her tone cool and dismissive, sliding a debit card out of her wallet.

“This card has a hundred and fifty grand on it.”

“You should understand something-if you drag this into court, you’ll end up with nothing.”

“At best, this is just kids roughhousing. Don’t make it bigger than it needs to be.”

Kids roughhousing?

I spat in her face.

My spit dripped down her cheek, and for the first time her mask cracked.

She grabbed my shoulder hard enough to bruise.

“You’ve got no manners! No wonder my son said kids from broken homes are rotten.”

“He was right-he was doing the world a favor!”

I snapped.

We were brawling before I even realized it.

The cops scrambled to pull us apart.

All the while, Jake and his father just stood there, watching me like I was some circus act.

As they left, Jake’s mom turned back, her voice like ice.

“You’d better quit while you’re ahead.”

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But I didn’t quit.

I filed the lawsuit anyway.

On the day of the trial, the sky broke open.

Sheets of rain hammered the courthouse steps.

The Millers showed up with the best attorney money could buy.

Jake was only twelve.

And with his parents flashing their checkbook, the judge let him walk free.

Not guilty.

I stood in the rain, verdict paper in hand, unable to tell if the wetness on my face was rain or tears.

And then-Jake himself appeared behind me.

He shoved me hard.

I slipped on the slick marble steps, tumbling down several.

The verdict paper flew from my hand, splashing into a puddle, ink bleeding.

Jake stuck out his tongue at me.

“Serves you right, bitch!”

Then he bolted back to his parents, laughing.

My ankle throbbed where it twisted on the steps.

But my eyes never left his retreating figure.

Cold. Sharp. Deadly.

It didn’t matter that he was twelve.

Age was never going to protect him.

People say “God will judge the wicked.”

But I couldn’t wait for God.

I would do it myself.

Because what no one knew-was that my greatest skill… was disguise.

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