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"It's just a shame you were so stubborn, refusing to admit what happened back then."
"I had no choice but to keep your well-behaved son in a safe place."
Chloe, who had been putting on a tough act all along, finally learned fear.
She crawled out of her wheelchair, forced her sick body to kneel before me, and said through tears, "I was wrong, I truly was wrong!"
"Lily, I'm sorry! I'm willing to admit all my crimes—please, let my son go!"
Heh, Chloe was such a fool—she didn't even realize the fingers were fake.
The charred fingers were adult bones I'd obtained from a crematorium.
I suspected the police would soon test them and find that the bone age didn't match her son's at all.
But Chloe, emotionally shattered, didn't wait for the police's analysis—she already believed the bones were her son's.
I coldly stared at Chloe, "If you had confessed willingly two days ago, I might have considered sparing you."
"But you insisted on going down this dark path—now you'll have to pay a heavier price."
Chloe shed all her pride, kneeling on the ground, she said humbly, "I'll do anything you ask—just please, don't hurt my son anymore."
I gave two conditions.
First, Chloe must visit my parents' grave and kowtow a thousand times.
Second, after kowtowing, she must confess her crimes in front of the grave.
With her defenses completely broken, Chloe no longer had the will to resist.
She agreed numbly and was helped into a police car along with her wheelchair.
In handcuffs, I was escorted to Greenridge Memorial Cemetery.
A light rain fell, the air chilly and damp.
Chloe, just out of surgery and exhausted from days of torment, was pale and trembling.
Two officers lifted her wheelchair out of the car, and someone held an umbrella over her.
Chloe struggled to support herself with her arms, crawling out of her wheelchair and weakly kneeling before the grave, tears streaming as she kowtowed again and again.
I looked at my parents' tombstone, tears welling in my eyes.
Three years ago, our entire family knelt outside Chloe's door, kowtowing and begging for mercy, but she couldn't even be bothered to look at us.
I wondered if she regretted it now.
One officer couldn't bear to watch, frowning as he said, "Lily, Chloe is a patient—she's already extremely weak."
"Making her kowtow a thousand times in the rain—don't you think that's too cruel?"
I sneered, "Back when our entire family knelt outside Chloe's door, why did no one speak up for us?"
A crowd of reporters, media, and so-called ‘neutral observers' urged me to be merciful and spare the ‘pitiful' Chloe.
I ignored all their suggestions.
If Chloe didn't complete a thousand kowtows, she would never see her son again.
The sound of her head hitting the ground was deeply satisfying to me.
Several times, Chloe collapsed from exhaustion, only to be helped up and forced to continue.
Countless media and cameras surrounded us, recording everything.
Bystanders who had heard the news crowded the cemetery, packing the area.
The live chat once again shifted dramatically.
Those who had supported me and those who supported Chloe were initially split fifty-fifty, but now almost everyone sided with Chloe.
The officers seemly wanted me to understand the weight of my actions, so they handed me a tablet to let me see the live comments.
["Lily enjoys torturing people—she's a psychopath!"]
["She didn't spare a three-year-old—she should be the one kneeling!"]
["Lily exposed the criminals just for revenge—only idiots would sympathize with her!"]
["Even if Chloe is guilty, she doesn't deserve such twisted punishment…"]
The comments were harsh, but I remained unmoved.
I hoped they would still curse so fiercely after hearing Chloe confess her crimes.
