Felix’s breathing stuttered, then steadied. He opened his eyes and, in a small voice, tried to soothe her. “Ms. Clara, you just had surgery. Don’t be angry. I’m fine. This is my fault—please don’t hit me again.” He looked at me with a timid, pleading expression. “If you really killed me, it would ruin Ms. Clara’s reputation.”
Clara’s expression shifted; the calculation returned. She clenched her jaw. “ Ethan, I’ve indulged you. It’s time you learned a lesson.” She called the police.
The officers arrived quickly. Felix still leaned in Clara’s arms, pale and breathless. “We received a report of a public assault,” one officer said. “Who is the suspect?”
Clara straightened, righteous fury painted on her face, and pointed at me. “Officer, it’s him. He attacked my friend in public. Arrest him.”
Spectators nodded. “He neglected his wife during a miscarriage and then made a scene—assaulted an innocent man.” “Arrest him now, or I’ll punch him myself.” Their voices closed in like a verdict.