“Do you remember Marcus Green?” I asked.
My mother froze in place. Austin let his fork slip from his hand. Sheila’s smile disappeared.
“The man who lost his life on the main road,” I continued. “The man I spent two years in prison protecting.”
“Summer,” my father warned. “Don’t spoil this dinner.”
“This dinner was already ruined the moment you entered this apartment pretending nothing happened,” I replied.
Abigail burst into tears.
“Sweetheart, please…”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I said. “Not after throwing forty dollars at me. Not after clearing out my room and transferring the house into someone else’s name just to push me away.”
Austin slammed his palm against the table.
“That’s enough! You agreed to take the blame for me!” he shouted.
“Because you manipulated me,” I answered.
Then I turned toward Sheila.
“And you hid the dashcam memory card inside the flowerpot in the yard,” I added.
