he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance - Chapter 126: Chapter 126
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Although my father had paid for Tiffany's tuition fees while she studied abroad, her extravagant,
hedonistic lifestyle overseas—filled with endless indulgences—was undeniably funded by real money.
Even if Jackson, the driver, scrimped and saved every penny he earned and gave it all to Tiffany, it would still be far from enough.
"I... I think I might know..."
A girl timidly raised her hand, her voice trembling as she spoke softly.
"When I was studying abroad, I saw several older men visiting Tiffany's apartment on different occasions. She was probably earning money by... doing that kind of business."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Everyone knew exactly what she meant by "that kind of business."
At that moment, Tiffany's carefully curated facade completely crumbled.
"You..."
When I heard this, I felt both shocked and appalled.
I could barely contain my anger toward her actions—an overwhelming sense of disappointment surged within me.
"You... Jackson worked tirelessly to put you through school, hoping you'd make something of yourself. How could you do this to him?"
Tiffany, however, seemed resigned to her downfall and no longer cared to deny it. She shouted back, her voice filled with defiance:
"What right do you have to lecture me? You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth! You've always had whatever you wanted and will never know what it's like to be poor!
Why is it that others get to live in luxurious apartments and carry designer handbags, while I'm stuck scrimping and saving?"
She continued, her voice growing more venomous,
"The reason I ended up like this is all because of that useless father of mine! If he had just made more money, would I have had to sell my body? I never want to see him again—not ever!"
I didn't know what to say.
At that moment, the manager came rushing over, his face pale with panic, and whispered something into my ear.
Hearing his words, my face darkened. I turned to Tiffany and said, "You... won't ever get the chance to see Jackson again."
Tiffany's head snapped up, her pupils constricting.
"Because they brought him to the hospital too late, they missed the critical window for treatment. Jackson... has already passed away."
Thud!
Tiffany's legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor.
After a brief silence, she suddenly wailed, her cries echoing through the hall.
Watching her in this state, I let out a long sigh, my heart a complicated mix of emotions.
The man who had devoted his entire life to supporting his daughter had ultimately been destroyed by her actions.
It was an unspeakably cruel irony.
"These people... they all bear some responsibility. Turn them over to the authorities," I said, sweeping my gaze over the crowd.
If just one of them had retained a shred of decency and called 911 in time, the outcome could have been entirely different.
None of them should escape accountability!
"Please! We're innocent!"
"Tiffany and Mike wouldn't let us call for help. We're begging you—have mercy on us!"
"We're sorry! We'll never do anything like this again!"
Upon hearing that they'd be handed over to the police, everyone in the room dropped to their knees and kowtowed, pleading for forgiveness.
I was unmoved, completely indifferent.
If apologies were enough to solve everything, what would be the point of the law?
Soon, the police arrived and took Mike and the others into custody.
After a period of investigation and evidence collection, the police charged them with indirect intentional homicide.
As the principal offender, Mike was sentenced to ten years in prison.
The others, as accomplices, were given sentences ranging from three to five years.
Tiffany, however, was not sentenced.
hedonistic lifestyle overseas—filled with endless indulgences—was undeniably funded by real money.
Even if Jackson, the driver, scrimped and saved every penny he earned and gave it all to Tiffany, it would still be far from enough.
"I... I think I might know..."
A girl timidly raised her hand, her voice trembling as she spoke softly.
"When I was studying abroad, I saw several older men visiting Tiffany's apartment on different occasions. She was probably earning money by... doing that kind of business."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Everyone knew exactly what she meant by "that kind of business."
At that moment, Tiffany's carefully curated facade completely crumbled.
"You..."
When I heard this, I felt both shocked and appalled.
I could barely contain my anger toward her actions—an overwhelming sense of disappointment surged within me.
"You... Jackson worked tirelessly to put you through school, hoping you'd make something of yourself. How could you do this to him?"
Tiffany, however, seemed resigned to her downfall and no longer cared to deny it. She shouted back, her voice filled with defiance:
"What right do you have to lecture me? You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth! You've always had whatever you wanted and will never know what it's like to be poor!
Why is it that others get to live in luxurious apartments and carry designer handbags, while I'm stuck scrimping and saving?"
She continued, her voice growing more venomous,
"The reason I ended up like this is all because of that useless father of mine! If he had just made more money, would I have had to sell my body? I never want to see him again—not ever!"
I didn't know what to say.
At that moment, the manager came rushing over, his face pale with panic, and whispered something into my ear.
Hearing his words, my face darkened. I turned to Tiffany and said, "You... won't ever get the chance to see Jackson again."
Tiffany's head snapped up, her pupils constricting.
"Because they brought him to the hospital too late, they missed the critical window for treatment. Jackson... has already passed away."
Thud!
Tiffany's legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor.
After a brief silence, she suddenly wailed, her cries echoing through the hall.
Watching her in this state, I let out a long sigh, my heart a complicated mix of emotions.
The man who had devoted his entire life to supporting his daughter had ultimately been destroyed by her actions.
It was an unspeakably cruel irony.
"These people... they all bear some responsibility. Turn them over to the authorities," I said, sweeping my gaze over the crowd.
If just one of them had retained a shred of decency and called 911 in time, the outcome could have been entirely different.
None of them should escape accountability!
"Please! We're innocent!"
"Tiffany and Mike wouldn't let us call for help. We're begging you—have mercy on us!"
"We're sorry! We'll never do anything like this again!"
Upon hearing that they'd be handed over to the police, everyone in the room dropped to their knees and kowtowed, pleading for forgiveness.
I was unmoved, completely indifferent.
If apologies were enough to solve everything, what would be the point of the law?
Soon, the police arrived and took Mike and the others into custody.
After a period of investigation and evidence collection, the police charged them with indirect intentional homicide.
As the principal offender, Mike was sentenced to ten years in prison.
The others, as accomplices, were given sentences ranging from three to five years.
Tiffany, however, was not sentenced.
End of he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance Chapter 126. Continue reading Chapter 127 or return to he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance book page.