“Maris! Your son blew up the sewer, set the fields on fire, and destroyed the road. While the rest of us were out there trying to save the crops, you hid in here without lifting a finger. Do you have any conscience at all?”
The villagers shouted over one another:
“You’d better pay for the losses!”
“My field was ruined!”
“Mine too!”
“You owe us all compensation!”
My sister planted her hands on her hips, chin raised high.
“It’s just a few measly plots of land! Fine—I’ll pay! My husband is a billionaire, you think we care about pocket change?”
My mother chimed in proudly, “Exactly! My daughter is about to marry rich. Soon, you’ll all be lining up to curry favor with us!”
The villagers exchanged looks, some scoffing, some sneering.
The village chief crossed his arms. “A billionaire husband, huh? Let’s see him. Call him out here.”
And as if summoned by fate, Adrian appeared at the door.
My sister’s face lit up like fireworks. “He’s here! My husband’s here!”
But Adrian stepped aside, revealing two uniformed police officers behind him.
The room went dead silent.
“Who is Maris?” one of the officers asked. “You’ll need to come with us.”
