The man leading the spectacle knelt on the ground in mourning clothes, sobbing. Both his eyes were swollen and raw from crying.
"Your whole family is scum! You did this to my father, and now you think you can just deny it?"
Employees packed the sidewalk, rubbernecking, their judgmental stares sweeping over me again and again.
I'd been with this company since graduating college. My talent had carried me to a director-level position at a young age, which had earned me no small amount of jealousy.
Now that someone had handed them ammunition against me, they weren't about to let the opportunity pass.
"If you hit someone, own up to it. What kind of person flees the scene?"
"Look at her, playing innocent. If you didn't know better, you'd actually think we had the wrong person."
"Wrong person? The victim's family tracked her down at her workplace. Who would use their own father's life to frame somebody?"
Michael Young fed off the crowd's support, his spine straightening with every word of encouragement.
He bared his teeth and lunged toward me.
"My father is eighty-three years old! At his age, he has to suffer like this, and you people won't lift a finger? You're trying to dodge responsibility!"