My fists clenched, fury boiling.
He could insult me—but why humiliate my family?
He slammed the table, stood, and leaned down until his face was inches from mine.
“I said your whole family is cruel. Your father deserved to be hit by that car!”
Slap!
I struck him across the face with everything I had.
Daniel’s head snapped to the side. After a pause, he raised his hand and seized my hair.
“Emily Carter, did I ever give you any respect?”
He was about to hit me.
Aaron ran out of the room on his little bare feet.
“Daddy, don’t hit Mommy!”
Daniel’s hand froze in mid-air. He glanced at our child, clenched his teeth, and shoved me to the floor.
“Emily Carter, you’ll regret this.”
The door slammed shut with a violent bang.
I clutched Aaron, my teeth trembling, and silently retorted.
Daniel, you’re the one who will regret this!
The video of Daniel’s father’s car accident went viral.
When his aunt came to me with the clip, her whole body shook with rage.
“Damn it! My brother died so tragically, and they’re still trying to smear him like this. Are they even human?”
I poured her a glass of water.
When I took her phone, I realized the videos online had been altered.
Unlike the version I saw at the police station, the trending clip was blurry, cut at an angle that hid him tying his shoelaces, slowed down for effect, and overlaid with captions framing him as staging a scam before a hit-and-run.
If I hadn’t seen the real surveillance, I might have believed it too.
No wonder the comments were full of venom against him. People wrote that it wasn’t just age that made him bitter—that he’d lived as a con artist and died as one.
They claimed his actions proved he was a repeat offender.
Others sneered that he must have blackmailed his children before his death—that it was the perfect ending for a “crooked old man.”
I should have been heartbroken.
But knowing Daniel twisted the truth only because the victim wasn’t his own father left me numb instead.
His aunt slapped her thigh in fury and shouted at me.
“Emily, call Daniel and make him send a lawyer’s letter. Sue those bastards right now!”
I didn’t tell her that the “bastards” she cursed were likely her nephew himself.
Before I could put the phone down, the police called.
“Mrs. Carter, I’m following up—have you decided whether to prosecute your father-in-law’s case? You said you’d discuss it with your husband. Do you have a decision?”