âCrowell, speak up!â implored Zoey.
Crowellâs head was bowed, his fists tight, his arm muscles strained with tension. He had nearly escaped accountability.
The police, steadfast in their role, pressed, âMr. Hewitt, are you ready to cooperate with our inquiry?â
âCrowell, explain yourself to the police!â Zoey demanded.
Only then did Crowell lift his gaze, feigning innocence. âI didnât do it! Sheâs falsely accusing me!â
Dulce emerged from behind Michael, her voice firm. âI stake my life on the truth of my words.â
Fiona, having arrived at the hospital in haste, witnessed the confrontation. She didnât trust Dulce, but she trusted Michael.
âCrowell!â Her appearance was disheveled, her hair in disarray, and her eyes bloodshot with visible strain. She trembled from head to toe, pent-up fury evident in her voice. âI will kill you!â
Her words were sharp, each one punctuated with intense force, her mouth bitter as if tasting blood.
Pushing through the crowd, Fiona tried to reach Crowell, but bystanders restrained her.
Crowell made a break for it, but the police had sealed all escape routes.
âLet me at him! Ah! Let me through!â
Struggling in vain, Fiona watched helplessly as the police led Crowell away. Her emotionsâa mix of anger, helplessness, and sorrowâwere constrained by the law and social norms.
âReturn my son to me! Return my son!â
Her cries resonated through the hospital, a mournful echo akin to a funeral bell tolling repeatedly.
Michael thought ruefullyâif Lacey were still alive, she would have never allowed her sister to suffer like this.
Overcome with guilt and regret, he couldnât hold back. He struck the wall with a forceful punch.
Dulce gasped, noticing his hand. Fionaâs body tensed. Overwhelmed by her emotions, she collapsed in a faint.
Everyone rushed to her side, quickly administering first aid.
As Fiona regained consciousness, she caught Dulce in a heated exchange with Crowellâs parents.
âHave you no sense of right and wrong? Crowell has confessed to his crime. Are you really asking for a letter of forgiveness?â
Dulce was confronting not just one couple, but two, though she didnât recognize the latter pair, who also sought Fionaâs forgiveness.
Exhausted, Fiona felt too drained to deal with these peripheral figures. Thoughts of her son constricted her heart, making living feel more burdensome than dying.
Dulceâs voice escalated, firm and resolute. âLeave this place! Go away! Do not bother us anymore! Fiona will not write any letter of forgiveness. Michael has consulted with an attorney. We intend to see those responsible receive their due punishment!â
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