But the chair came down anyway, splintering with a deafening crack. The blow landed hard, and blood poured from my mouth.
"Dad, stop hitting my husband!" Chelsea cried, her eyes swollen and raw from hours of weeping.
"This bastard is not your husband!" Douglas’s voice was chilling, devoid of any warmth.
He approached me quickly, bent down, and grabbed my collar, his cold stare locking with mine. It was a look that made my skin crawl, as if I were gazing into the darkness of an abyss.
"Do you know why I’m hitting you?"
I stayed silent, trembling from the excruciating pain.
"It’s not because you want to end the engagement with my daughter. It’s not because you want to leave her. It’s because... you’re not even human!"
He paused, letting his words sink in, before continuing. "On the night of the engagement, when Chelsea was assaulted, I was told you were in the men’s restroom. The hotel janitor saw you there."
In other words, I was most likely a witness. I had probably seen the man who assaulted her.
“What… what did you say? Anthony saw it happen?”
Miriam could no longer hold herself back. She rushed toward her husband.
"Yes. He must have seen him," Douglas confirmed firmly.
Then, he turned back to me, his face dark and heavy, as he asked, "Why did you tell the police you didn’t see the criminal?"
Right there, Miriam violently grabbed my hair, her face contorted with rage.
“It must’ve been someone you know,” she hissed. "Someone powerful, and someone you don’t dare cross! So you kept quiet, afraid of revenge!”
Douglas’s voice grew colder as he demanded, "Isn’t that right?"
I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even speak.
But despite the agony, I forced myself to answer, "I... I didn’t see the criminal!"
"You’re lying!" Douglas’s gaze turned frigid, his eyes burning into mine. "The janitor said she saw you come out of the restroom. And she saw another man walking in the opposite direction. You definitely saw the criminal! So why didn’t you say anything?”
As Douglas finished speaking, Zeke abruptly charged over, grabbing my collar and pulling me to my feet. Without asking a single question, he began pounding my face with his fists.
I felt myself growing lightheaded, on the verge of losing consciousness, but he didn’t stop until he yelled, "You asshole, tell me! Who was that son of a bitch?”
When I stayed silent, Zeke’s anger flared even more. "You won’t speak, huh? I’ll kill you!"