Chapter 3

After what seemed like forever, a doctor in a white coat finally came out.

He pulled down his mask, his voice thick with emotion. "Are you the family? We did everything we could, but the injuries were too serious. There was too much bleeding in his brain. We couldn't save him."

"No way…" My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the floor. The world went dark around me, and a ringing buzzed in my ears.

The doctor's voice sounded distant like it wasn't even real.

I rushed into the operating room and saw a small figure quietly lying there. Cyril wasn't breathing anymore. I gently ran my fingers over his face, and the coldness of his skin shattered me inside.

I held Cyril's body tight, my cries coming from the very depths of me.

Out of nowhere, Roxanne popped into my head.

Anger surged inside me, hot and fierce. I rushed down the hall, heading straight for the emergency room on the first floor.

"Doctor! Nurse! Where are the two young women who were brought in from the motorcycle accident earlier?" I grabbed a nurse passing by, my voice strained and frantic. "The ones with my son!"

I searched through each room. It wasn't until I got to the last one that I saw them—those white lace flats splattered with blood.

I burst through the door and found Trevor crouched on the floor, tying a bandage around Roxanne's wounds. The second they spotted me, they froze.

"Roxanne Walker!" I rushed over, yanking her by the hair and dragging her off the bed. "You killer! Come on, we're going to the cops!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Roxanne screamed and thrashed around. "Are you crazy? Let go of me!"

"Let go? Cyril's dead because of you, and you want me to let go?" I yelled, holding on even tighter.

"Whitney! Whitney, please, calm down!" Maeve rushed over, trying to pull me off.

People began to gather around us, but all I could hear was the roar of my own anger. I couldn't hear anything else. I didn't care about the looks or the gossip. All I wanted was to see this killer pay for what she did.

"Whitney Sorrel! Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Trevor jumped up, shoving me to the ground.

A sharp pain shot through my stomach, and when I looked down, I saw blood soaking through my clothes. The place where he'd grabbed me was on fire with pain.

Trevor kept pulling me away from Roxanne, his eyes cold as ice. "Whitney! What the hell are you talking about?"

I pointed at Roxanne and barked, "Our son's gone! Cyril's gone!"

Trevor stepped in front of Roxanne and grabbed my arm. "Roxy said Cyril's fine! How long are you going to keep this act up? I know you've never liked Maeve, but why make it tough on Roxy?"

I stumbled back, yanking my arm away, and pointed at Roxanne's white shoes. "Make it tough on her? Open your eyes! Look at her shoes. They're covered in Cyril's blood! It was her who was speeding and killed Cyril! And—"

Trevor immediately jumped in between me and Roxanne. He emphasized every word. "You're out of your mind!"

I grabbed Trevor and yanked him toward the operating room. The second he saw Cyril's lifeless body, he almost collapsed.

I pointed at the dead body. "This is fine? You think I'm just putting on a show? Listen up, Trevor—you're going to regret this!"

Just then, two officers walked in, notebooks in hand.

One of them spoke up, "We just took statements from Roxanne Walker and Liana Johnson. They're both freshmen and went out to celebrate getting into the university.

"At first, Cyril Walker was still in surgery after the accident, so we handled it like a regular traffic incident. But now that he's passed away, we're reopening the case."

The officer paused, then turned to face me with a serious look. "Ms. Whitney Sorrel, their statements claim you ran a red light. Is that true?"

"No! No way! I didn't run any red light! They were speeding and hit Cyril!" I shook my head wildly, tears streaming down my face, my voice raspy.

"That's enough!" Trevor interrupted, his voice sharp with irritation. He turned to the officers, his tone unnervingly steady.

"My wife's been really struggling since we lost our son." He paused for a beat before adding, "As a family member of the deceased, can I write a forgiveness letter?"

His words sent a chill down my spine.

"What?" I stared at him, eyes wide like I'd just been hit with a jolt. My mind went blank.

The officers seemed just as shocked.

One of them paused before asking, "Yeah, that's possible. So, you're saying you want to forgive the people responsible?"

Trevor nodded, his voice flat. "Yes, I forgive them."