Home Entertainment Game Technology Advertisement Part 2: For eight years, my parents made me leave the house every time my brother brought his fiance over; Mom said, “She comes from a good family, don’t embarrass us”; Dad added, “Just disappear for the weekend”; I did; then one weekend, I never came back; it took them four years to find out where I went.

I stiffened.

“Yes.”

“Any reason to believe your parents caused it?”

“No.”

That answer mattered.

My parents had exploited my medical emergency.

They had not created it.

I had suffered a rare adverse reaction to a medication prescribed after a viral illness.

My heart rhythm destabilized.

I collapsed at school.

For several hours, doctors weren't sure I would survive.

Then I did.

My parents did not poison me.

Did not try to kill me.

The crime started after I lived.

That distinction kept the story grounded in what actually happened.

Detective Alvarez asked:

“Do you know why they chose that moment?”

“No.”

She did not tell me.

Not yet.

Investigators were still looking.

Three weeks later, they executed warrants.

At my parents' house.

Neil Pruitt's funeral home.

And Mitch's office.

I was at Ruth's farm when it happened.

Of course.

Ruth poured coffee.

“You nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

I looked at her.