"Maya..." His voice was weak, barely audible over the crowd's noise. Lucia, her arm still supporting him, looked at me with bitter scorn.
"If I had been a moment later," she spat out, her tone sharp, "he might've been burned alive. If he'd died, would you have been satisfied then?"
"Hmph! I think she's been plotting to kill my son all along!" Evelyn shrieked, her face contorted with rage. Her wild eyes darted between me and the crowd as though searching for allies. "Who knows what kind of woman she really is? That fire—maybe she set it herself!"
Harvey blinked weakly, his lips curving into a faint, bitter smile. "Maya... I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "I couldn't get the accounting records. This whole thing is just an accident. I don't blame you. You don't need to feel guilty."
Evelyn's head whipped around. "After everything that's happened, you're still defending her?" she screeched. Her voice cracked with disbelief. "Worried she'll feel guilty? Let me tell you—she won't! She doesn't care. She refused to help you, do you understand? She stood there and watched! She said she was afraid of getting hurt! Do you think a woman like that would ever feel guilty?"