Terrified, I immediately called Jason Miller, begging him to ask the Miller family’s lawyer to help me. He came—but instead of helping, he accused me of being mentally ill and claimed I couldn’t remember the accident. As my husband, he even signed the confession papers on my behalf.
Because of the so-called “mental illness,” I wasn’t detained immediately, but I was forbidden from leaving New York City.
I couldn’t believe that the man I had been married to for five years would frame me for a crime. Choking back tears, I ran after him and asked why he was doing this.
He shook off my hand, still smiling, though his words were as cold as ice.
“What else could I do? You went against Chloe first, insisting on suing the person who hurt her. I’m just giving you a taste of what it feels like to be falsely accused.”
“You can’t handle this? Then how do you think Chloe felt when she was dragged through a lawsuit?”
Seeing me broken and lost, Jason sighed heavily.
“Rachel Evans, I’ve told you before—Chloe is my only sister, my family. Hurting her means crossing my bottom line.”