Chapter 225

Brian's POV

"Ill handle it."

I heard myself say these words. Strange, my heartbeat wasn't racing. Even though I was facing this man I once called "Dad," even though his gaze cut like knives. I didn't feel the fear I used to feel.

Philip's jaw was clenched tight, a vein pulsing at his temple. "Brian..." he practically forced my name through gritted teeth, "what did you tell Sarah about our child?"

When he said "our child," I couldn't help but inwardly sneer.How ridiculous that this man considered the baby in Sarah's womb more important than me, his son who already existed. I didn't answer immediately,instead turning to Grandma.

"Grandma, you can go back to your room now."

I could feel Grandma's worry wrapping around me like a blanket. Her gaze lingered on my face for a moment before shifting to Philip, her eyes seemingly warning him not to lay a hand on me.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice filled with unease.

I nodded. A small voice inside told me: she had already done enough for me; she should be protected and kept away from this storm.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

When Grandma stood up, her chair made a slight creaking sound. She walked to the door, then paused and said to Philip: "He looks terrifying!"

"I know." I heard myself say, "there's an old saying: 'Even tigers don'teat their cubs.' He wouldn't dare hurt me."

Did I really believe that? Not exactly. I knew Philip too well, knew how easily this man was ruled by his emotions. Even so, I wanted Grandma to leave this room, to be away from whatever was about to happen.

"Grandma, if you don't go back to your room now, I'll be upset!"

She finally left, though she looked back at me with every step. Only when I heard the bedroom door close did I turn my full attention back to Philip.

SLAP!

The pain came unexpectedly fast and much stronger than I had imagined.His palm landed heavily on my face, throwing my entire body off balance.I fell to the floor like a leaf. My right ear rang, and my vision blurred for a few seconds. My cheek burned as if licked by flames.

"How could you be so vicious?"

His roar exploded beside my ear. I slowly got up from the floor,tasting blood on my tongue-I must have bitten it. Although I had anticipated his anger, I had underestimated the strength and fury of an adult.

"What exactly did I do?"

I asked this question not because I didn't know the answer, but because I wanted to hear him say it himself. I wanted to see how he would justify his violent behavior.

"You convinced a pregnant woman to get an abortion!"

Philip's eyes were wide, as if I were the most terrifying monster he had

ever seen. Did he really believe I could do such a thing? A five-year-old child persuading an adult woman to make such a significant decision?

"If I'm not mistaken, that pregnant woman must be Sarah Johnson,right?"

My voice was calmer than I expected. That calmness wasn't because I didn't care, but because I had long understood wwhat kind of person Sarah was.She was the type who would unhesitatingly push others into the fire, then pretend to be the victim.

"Are you admitting it?" Philip demanded.

I didn't answer his question. My cheek still hurt, but the pain actually made me more clear-headed. I stared into his eyes, thinking: Do you really think I'm stupid enough to admit to something I didn't do?

"If you want to talk about vicious people, I think those words should be used to describe Sarah."

My words were like a small knife, piercing Philip's pride.His expression changed briefly before quickly returning to one of burning anger.

"When she targeted my mother, weren't her methods even more cruel?"

As I said this, I felt a wave of genuine pain wash over me. It wasn't from the injury on my face, but from a deeper wound-a memory I had tried to forget but couldn't.

"Setting a trap on the stairs wasn't enough; she had to destroy people mentally as well. She made me call my mom over..."

My voice trembled slightly, not pretending, but from genuine emotions churning inside. Whenever I thought of that day, of how I was used to hurt the person I loved most, I felt an indescribable shame and pain.

"I became an accomplice in killing the baby in Mom's womb."

This truth I had never told anyone, but it had haunted me like a ghost.Looking into Philip's eyes, I knew it was time to ask the question that had troubled me countless nights.

"It was after that incident that Mom gave up on me, wasn't it?"

Philip's gaze flickered momentarily, as if he suddenly realized he might have missed something important. But he quickly returned to that stubborn anger.

"You're heartless. You did all this yourself, and now you're blaming Sarah!"

I almost laughed out loud. Was he really naive enough to believe that I-a five-year-old child-could plan all this on my own? Every time I thought he couldn't get any more foolish, he surprised me.

"Please tell me," I tried to make my voice sound calm and rational, "I'm just a five-year-old child. How could I possibly come up with such a malicious plan?"

Philip's expression began to waver. Good, now it was time to give him more truth.

"Sarah was the one who poured oil on the stairs. That oil can was so heavy,how could I possibly move it?"

I looked into his eyes, unveiling the facts step by step.

"The security cameras were also covered. Could someone my height climb up to cover the cameras?"

Philip's face changed repeatedly, from anger to confusion, then to a hint of

unease.He was starting to think, albeit months too late, but better late than never.

"You couldn't have done all this yourself," he finally admitted,but immediately hardened again, "but couldn't you have hired someone?"

I almost rolled my eyes. This accusation was so absurd it wasn't even worth the effort to refute. I simply asked: "Has Sarah's child been saved?"

Philip didn't answer, but his silence told me everything. I touched my cheek; the burning pain reminded me that everything I had just experienced wasn't a dream. My ears were still ringing, making all sounds seem muffled.

"You've already hit me. Are you satisfied now? You can leave."

I saw Philip's expression soften slightly. He clearly hadn't expected me to be so calm. I knew my calmness would make him more uncomfortable than anger, and this gaveme a strange satisfaction deep down.

"Fine, I'm leaving," he finally said, turning toward the door.

Watching his back, I suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

"I've prepared a gift for you," I called out, my voice carrying a hint of challenge I hadn't even realized was there, "I hope you'll like it wvhen you receive it."

Philip stopped and looked back at me, a trace of wariness in his eyes:"You don't need to send me anything. I'm no longer your father."

I just smiled. A smnile from a five-year-old child, but I knew it was enough to make him uneasy. Hefinally left, his footsteps gradually fading down the hallway.

I stood there, my heart finally beginning to race. Not from fear, but from a strange sense of relief.

I picked up my phone, my fingers sliding across the screen to find the emergency number. When I pressed dial. I didn't feel afraid; instead.I felt an odd calmness. The call connected, and a professional female voice answered.

"911, what's your emergency?"