The document claimed my mother-in-law had bent down to tie her shoelaces on purpose—framing it as an attempted scam. It even went on to say that because Dylan was feeling unwell, he failed to notice the road and accidentally hit her.
It was a blatant reversal of right and wrong.
Clutching the flimsy paper, I asked hoarsely, "Abigail... did you even watch the surveillance footage at the police station?"
She leaned back in her chair, sipping her drink carelessly, though her voice rose with irritation.
"Watch what? You want me to watch your mom scam someone? An old woman like her trying to extort a young boy? Julian, if you're not ashamed, I am!"
"She wasn't scamming anyone!" I slammed the document back at her. "She raised you for thirty years. You know better than anyone what kind of person she was. Don't you dare insult her like this!"
People at nearby tables began glancing over, curious about the argument.
Maybe her coldness had numbed me, because even my grief seemed to fade under her words.
"Raised me?" she sneered. "She was your mom, Julian. Are you confused?"