Chapter 8: Watch Me Slap Faces

"A fine piece of work, Carlos Yale. I never thought you'd be the kind of ingrate who bites the hand that fed him!" A glint flashed in Arya Zimmerman's eyes. She jabbed a finger at Carlos's face and laid into him. "Sure, you donated your marrow and saved my life. But in the year since you married into the Zimmerman family, how did I treat you?" "I kept wiring you money to spend. I took you shopping for designer brands. I gave you my whole heart. I even transferred you a huge sum so you could buy your parents a house. And how did you repay me this year?" "You drank, gambled, and hired escorts. Every few days you stuck your hand out for more cash. You even blew the house money I gave you for your parents. Sometimes you got drunk and hit me." "I'm human, not a saint. I can't keep forgiving and forgiving. You disappointed me, so I filed for divorce. But you felt no remorse and came to smear our pharmacy's business like this. Are you even human?" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she wiped at her face, wearing the look of a woman crushed by grievance. She turned to the onlookers. "Tell me, shouldn't I divorce a man like this? For him to come after my family like this-doesn't that make him an animal?" "Animal! That's exactly what he is!" "This guy's not even human. Miss Zimmerman showed him gratitude and treated him well, but he didn't cherish it. Serves him right to be divorced. And now he comes to cause a scene in front of their shop? He's worse than a dog!" "A man like that deserves to be kicked to the curb!" The crowd turned on Carlos all at once. Seeing this, Wilson Zimmerman's heart leaped with glee. His daughter's emotional card was perfectly played. People were made of flesh. Stoke public outrage like this, and you could smother that son of a bitch's attempt to expose the pharmacy for selling counterfeits. He wiped at his eyes and pitched his voice hoarse. "My daughter's had such a hard life. Ever since this heartless animal married into our family a year ago, I often heard her crying. Sometimes I saw her covered in bruises. I told her to divorce him over and over, but she said out of gratitude for his marrow, she'd keep tolerating him." "And what did her tolerance get her? He only escalated. He threatened to kill himself all the time to force money out of her. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and refused to give him a cent, and that's why he tried to kill himself a few days ago." "Luckily my daughter rushed him to the hospital in time and saved his sorry life. To avoid him trying again and dragging her into legal trouble, she filed for divorce. But this animal…" He worked himself up until he was crying for real. The crowd, however, boiled with rage. "An animal like that deserves to die!" "Miss Zimmerman should've let him die instead of bringing him to the hospital!" "He's a tumor on society!" Knuckles clenched, crack, crack, as some people felt the urge to beat Carlos to death. "As far as acting goes, I'll hand it to you two," Carlos said, unable to listen any longer. He addressed the crowd. "So I'm the scumbag in your heads, right? You're dying to stick up for this father-daughter duo? If so, cool your anger for a minute and watch how I slap them in the face." He turned to Arya. "You said you kept wiring me money. Over the past year, how much did you send?" "I don't remember." "A ballpark." "At least three to five million." "Okay. Three to five million, huh." Carlos pulled a few folded sheets from his pocket and held them up. "I have two bank cards under my name. Here's a bank-issued proof and the full statements for both cards up to the day before yesterday. Take a look." "Let me see." Someone took the statements from him and started reading. Arya and Wilson's faces dropped. They knew perfectly well whether they had ever sent Carlos a dime. They just hadn't expected him to show up prepared, with statements printed beforehand. "These statements are awfully thin." "Yeah. One card has almost no activity. The other has some, but the largest single transaction is only about $300. And the total in and out for the whole year doesn't even hit $2,000." "So where's that huge 'house money' transfer?" Everyone who read the statements looked stunned. Arya and Wilson traded looks, their lie laid bare. Heat crawled up their faces. "Miss Zimmerman, didn't you say you kept wiring him money and even sent a huge transfer for a house? Why don't I see any of that in the statements?" someone demanded. "I… I gave him… cash," Arya said, sounding like she didn't believe herself. "Ha. Just now it was wire transfers, and now it's cash? Doesn't even match. How's that cheek feel?" Carlos said, smug. "You-" Arya tried to argue, but nothing came. She had talked too big. There was no graceful way down now. She hadn't given Carlos a single cent. Carlos faced the crowd. "Arya and I were college classmates. I won't deny I pursued her shamelessly. Everyone has the right to pursue someone. And I knew where the line was. I didn't disrupt her life." "A year ago, Arya was diagnosed with leukemia. Her blood type was rare and they couldn't find a match. When I visited her, she was breaking down. I held onto a sliver of hope and went to test whether my marrow was a match." "By a stroke of luck, it was a perfect match. I shared the good news with her. She was ecstatic-and scared I'd refuse to donate. She knew I liked her, so she asked me to go register our marriage." "For the few days after we got the paperwork, her family treated me well. But once the transplant was done, they stopped treating me like a person. They wouldn't even let me sit at the table." "Why? Because I came from a poor family." "Bullshit! You're talking bullshit! We've always treated you well!" Arya shouted, trying to cut him off. Carlos ignored her and went on. "I could understand it, I really could. The Zimmerman family had assets in the tens of millions, and my family still lived in the slum. For the sake of this unfortunate marriage, I swallowed every slight. I cooked and washed dishes. I mopped floors and wiped windows. When the pharmacy had shipments, I was on an e-bike before dawn, unloading crates. For a whole year, I was up before dawn and down after midnight." "Not for anything else. Just to be part of that family. But I was dead wrong. All that effort, and what I got in return was a bottle of sleeping pills to kill myself." His gaze turned cold. He stabbed a finger at Arya and Wilson. "Four days ago, Arya's rich ex-who dumped her when she married me to stay alive-wanted to get back together. She asked me for a divorce. I refused. She unloaded a string of insults and hit me. And that old bastard Wilson, after humiliating me every which way, tossed me a bottle of sleeping pills and told me to go die. I couldn't take it and swallowed them." "Bullshit!" Wilson exploded. He turned to the crowd-now numbering in the thousands. "He's slandering me! Don't believe him! I practice medicine and save lives. How could I do something so heartless?" Both sides made their case, and the crowd didn't know who to believe. "He isn't slandering him." A new voice rang out. An old man with a slight hunch pushed through the crowd and stepped to Carlos's side. "Isn't that Kayden Zerba from Treasure Hall?" People recognized him at once. "Kayden, you…" Wilson stared, stunned. Was this guy really about to testify against him in front of all these people? Sure enough, Kayden cupped his hands to the crowd. "Every word Carlos said is true. He is nothing like what Miss Zimmerman claimed-drinking, gambling, whoring. He was diligent, tireless, often at the pharmacy by three or four in the morning to help unload. And I can prove the sleeping pills for his suicide were indeed supplied by Shopkeeper Wilson Zimmerman, because he was the one who told me to go buy that bottle." "What?" The crowd reeled, then erupted. "So that's how black Wilson's heart really is!" "Is this something a human being would do?" "Absolutely inhuman! The Zimmerman father and daughter are worse than beasts!" "I've seen the ugly face of Treasure Hall's owner. I'm never buying herbs there again!" With the truth out, anger swept the onlookers. "Kayden… y-you…" Wilson jabbed a finger at him, nearly faint with rage. He had never imagined the man he trusted most would betray him. He didn't know that yesterday, Carlos had arranged for Hugo Looske to buy Kayden off. "Got them-the antler and cordyceps are here." Just then, Aziel Warth ran out from Treasure Hall, squeezing through the crowd with two bags of medicinal herbs. "Perfect." Carlos took the bags, then raised his voice at the onlookers. "Reporters, where are you?" "Here!" "TV station cameramen?" "Here!" A few reporters and photographers lugging their big "bazooka" lenses pushed their way in. With the team assembled, Carlos said, "We've just ripped the mask off this father-daughter pair. Next, I'll expose Wilson Zimmerman's heartless tricks. Remember to blur my face when it airs." "No problem!" Seeing this lineup, Wilson looked like he was attending his own funeral. It was over. Completely over. That bastard was about to destroy him.