Nathaniel’s face froze slightly.
Frey looked at him and said, “I know she saved your life, but you can’t do this.”
“But... I have to!” he insisted.
“Three years ago, she framed me and killed my child,” Frey said loudly, emphasizing the words "my child," causing Nathaniel’s face to darken further.
Frey laughed softly, “Nathaniel, I’ve ruined her reputation this time! If you feel sorry for her, don’t bother me again.”
Nathaniel took a deep breath, his expression turning irritable. “I’ll handle it. Now, let Hudson and Taylor find the people who operated on you in prison.”
“They all died shortly after operating on you,” he added.
Frey’s hands clenched on her knees, and she sneered, “It’s quite a coincidence that they all died, isn’t it?”
Nathaniel looked at her seriously. “I’ll find out the truth. Abigail has tried to kill you more than once, but we can’t conclude she killed our child without evidence. I need proof!”
With a crash, Frey suddenly stood up, overturning the table. Dishes fell to the floor, and soup splashed everywhere. Her eyes turned red as she stared at Nathaniel, who remained calm.
“Evidence?” she spat. “Nathaniel, you want evidence?”
She raised her left hand in front of him. “When she framed me, why didn’t you ask for evidence? Why?”
“You convicted me based on her words and Koen’s false testimony!” she continued.
“Do you think Abigail's hand is flesh and mine is made of stone? It didn't break or hurt when she hit it with a golf club, right?”
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