Chapter 3: The Fractured Narrative
Miller’s heart stopped. He looked up from the tablet, his gaze locking onto Sarah across the lawn. The paramedics were working on Lily, but Sarah was standing now, waiting for the applause of the crowd, waiting to play the role of the grieving mother.
Miller walked over, his heavy boots crunching on the wet gravel. He didn't approach the grandmother. He approached Sarah.
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"The footage is very clear, Sarah," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and professional shock.
Sarah’s face didn't crumble. It changed. The tears stopped, the trembling hands went still, and a slow, chilling smile spread across her lips. "Did you see who was standing behind me?" she asked, her voice dropping into a register that made Miller’s skin crawl. "I didn't do it because I wanted her gone. I did it because I needed someone to blame. And everyone loves to hate a grandmother like Martha."
