Arnold frowned. "But she is. You should show more care for her. If something happens, you will regret it."
My father sneered, "What can happen to her? She's just so petty. A few days ago, we had a fight because of the house transfer. She's so money-minded and selfish. I bet she's cursing and swearing like a shrew outside. Who would dare to mess with her?"
As I listened to my father's words, my heart ached.
So, this is what he thinks of me.
The house is the only hope left by my mother, which carries all the memories of our family of three in the past.
How can I bear to give it away?
If Dad wants it, he can take it. But why did he give it to Chelsea?
Thinking about it, I laughed at myself and wondered what expression he would have when he found out that the corpse in front of him was me.
He'd probably feel relieved.
Or he'd feel that even though I was punished like this, he still hated my guts.
Arnold wanted to say something else, but my father walked forward coldly and said, "Focus on the case. Don't mind that damn girl."
After they worked for a few hours, my body was almost dissected, and the preliminary analysis was out.