Chapter 5
David's question was like a surgeon's knife, slicing right through Richard's final mask.
The air turned to ice.
Richard jerked his head around, glaring at his son, eyes wide with disbelief.
Maybe he'd expected David to question him, to get angry, to despise him.
But he never imagined his own son would straight-up accuse him of causing her harm.
"W-What are you trying to say?" Richard's voice was shrill with agitation. "I'm your father. Do you really think your own dad could do something like that?"
"I only trust evidence and logic," David said, his face blank, his tone steady. "You happened to show up here, and your motives are unclear.
"Your explanation doesn't add up at all. And right after you came to see her, her condition suddenly got worse. So, logically, you're the most suspicious one here."
That was my son, calm, logical, and ruthless.
For him, family always came second to facts and the law.
It looked like I really did pick the sharpest knife.
"Y-You damn fool." Richard was shaking with rage, his hand trembling as he pointed at David.
David said, calmly pushing up his glasses, "Dad, I'm warning you. If this really has something to do with you, you'd better come clean now. If I find out later, you know the consequences."
After that, he didn't look at Richard. He turned straight to me. "Mom, let's go home."
He grabbed my arm, then called out to Emily, "Emily, help Mom."
Not once did he give Richard another glance.
Being completely ignored and let down like that crushed a father's dignity more than any insult or beating ever could.
Richard stood there, frozen in place, watching us leave, like a withered tree hit by a bolt from the blue.
I could sense it. The monument in his heart called Father was beginning to crumble.
When we got home, the atmosphere was so suffocating that it felt like we could barely breathe.
Emily poured me a cup of water, worry written all over her face. She looked like she wanted to say something, but kept quiet.
I gave her hand a reassuring pat, letting her know I was fine.
David sat on the couch, silent, his fingers tapping out a steady rhythm on his knee.
It was something he always did when he was deep in thought.
I knew his mind was working overtime, reconstructing and analyzing every fragment of today's events.
After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Mom, I need you to be honest with me."
His eyes were razor-sharp, like he was trying to cut straight into my soul. "Who is Linda, really?"
I lowered my head, picked up the cup, and blew on it.
I made sure my hand stayed steady.
I forced myself to look mournful, but kept everything bottled up inside.
"David, please, don't ask," I said, my voice quivering. "It's all in the past now."
"Just because it's in the past doesn't mean it can't still hurt," David pressed. "Mom, I know you better than anyone. You've always cared about your reputation, and you hate getting dragged into other people's messes.
"If it wasn't something major, you'd never go to the hospital to take care of a woman you barely know."
"Your dad begged me," I said, looking up, my eyes filling with tears. "We've been married for fifty years, after all."
"Married?" David let out a cold laugh. "If he still saw you as his wife, he wouldn't have let you suffer like this."
He stood up and started pacing back and forth in the living room. "Mom, you don't need to tell me anything. I'll look into it myself.
"I'll find out what kind of relationship Dad really had with that woman.
"And I'll get to the bottom of how she got sick. I don't care who he is. If he broke the law, I'll be the first to make sure he pays for it."
David's words hit hard, every syllable echoing with resolve.
Each one was like a bullet, fired straight at the man who wasn't home yet.
Just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock came from outside.
Richard was back.
He walked in, looking utterly defeated, avoiding David's gaze on the couch.
He was like a kid who'd been caught doing something wrong, slowly taking off his shoes, head down, trying to slip quietly back to his room.
"Stop right there," David said, his voice quiet but carrying an authority that brooked no argument.
Richard froze in his tracks.
"From today on, you're sleeping in the study," David said, his gaze locked on Richard, every word deliberate. "Until I get to the bottom of this, you're not allowed to share a room with Mom."
This wasn't a discussion. It was a verdict and a sentence.
Richard jerked his head up, his face shifting from pale to flushed and back again.
Being treated like a criminal by his son right here in his own house was such a disgrace.
His lips parted, as if he wanted to protest, to defend his authority as the man of the house.
But when he met David's icy stare, all the words caught in his throat.
He was afraid.
He was afraid that David might really turn him in to the one place he knew all too well, the prosecutor's office.
In the end, he didn't say a word. With his head hung low in shame, he grabbed his pillow and shuffled off to the study.
The door slammed shut with a heavy thud.
That sound felt like a signal. This family was officially broken.
I stared at that closed door, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over me.
This was only the beginning.
Richard's son was the knife cutting into his dignity.
And he still had a daughter.
She was his real weak spot.
I picked up my phone and found Luna Grant's number.
I shot David a look, and he immediately understood. His gaze grew more conflicted.
He knew I was about to use the second knife.
I hit the dial button, and the call connected almost instantly.
"Mom? Is David home yet? How's Dad's retirement going? You guys didn't get into another fight, did you?" Luna's bright, lively voice came through the phone.
Luna was the youngest deputy director of cardiothoracic surgery at Burwadon Hospital, the daughter Richard had always cherished, holding her close and protecting her like she was the most precious thing in his life.
She was kind, pure-hearted, and absolutely hated anything unfair or evil.
To her, her father, important and respected, was nothing short of perfect, her hero, the man she admired more than anyone else in the world.
I took a slow breath, making my voice sound weary, like I was holding back tears. "Luna, everything's okay here at home.
"Your dad is worn out lately, so don't worry about him."
The more I tried to reassure her, the more Luna sensed something was wrong on the other end.
"Mom, are you crying? What happened? Did Dad get into another fight with you? Put him on the phone," Luna pressed.
The study door was flung open.
Richard burst out, panic written all over his face.
He heard it all.
He knew his worst nightmare was about to come true.
"Don't you dare, Helen. I forbid you to tell Luna," he shouted, sounding like a wild animal with its back against the wall.
I didn't look at him. Instead, I clung to the phone, squeezing out a shaky sob with everything I had left. "Luna, please, come home. I can't take it anymore."