Becoming Famous After Stabbing My Father

On my 18th birthday, I stabbed my father. My father adamantly insisted that he had simply tripped, so I was never charged with a crime. Everyone called me an ungrateful pig. Only one reporter was willing to interview me. "Your father adamantly shielded you from blame. How can you be so heartless?" I smiled faintly. "Live with me for one month. If you can endure that, I'll show you the truth." Chapter 1 Amber Cambry followed me to the residential complex holding a bag of apples. "Are you sure bringing just a bag of apples won't look too shabby?" Without looking back, I replied, "I told you, you didn't need to bring anything at all." "Walt, you're home? Oh, and this is..." Derrick Wilshere's hands were covered in fish scales. He hastily wiped them on his apron. Amber didn't mind in the least. She eagerly grasped his hand. "Hello, Mr. Wilshere! I'm Walt's classmate!" The hidden camera captured my father's flustered expression. My case had drawn widespread local attention, so Amber decided to livestream the whole thing. The live-stream chat scrolled frantically. [His hands are cracked from the cold. He's scaling fish in the freezing northern winter without any gloves on. This breaks my heart.] [He reminds me of my own father.] [Walt Wilshere just stabbed him 18 times! 18 times! And now he's already scaling fish to earn tuition money for his son. How could Walt Wilshere be so heartless?] A wad of crumpled banknotes was pulled out from the apron pocket, and my father smoothed them out with great effort. "Walt, I made some money selling fish today. It's not much, but I hope you don't mind. We can't afford expensive meals, but we can buy a few drinks with this... Oh, no!" The banknotes fluttered through the air, and the coins rolled on the floor. Amber scrambled to pick them up. "Walt, what are you doing? This is Mr. Wilshere's hard-earned money!" I merely stared at the hurt in my father's eyes, let out a cold chuckle, and walked straight into my room without looking back. Outside the door came the sound of Amber helping my father gather the loose change and clean up. Moments later, she walked into my room. "I don't know what happened between you two, but no matter what, he's still your father. You hurt his feelings just now. The least you can do is pretend to care!" I raised my head. "You just got here. Why don't you observe a little longer?" She hesitated for a moment, touched the pinhole camera hidden near her collar, and remained silent. A knock came from the door. "Walt, I cut some fruit for you and your classmate..." "Get lost!" I hurled my schoolbag violently at the door, and the sound of shattering porcelain echoed from outside. My father seemed to choke back a sob. "I'm sorry..." "Hey! You—!" Amber couldn't stand it anymore and opened the door. When she came back in after cleaning up, her eyes were teary. "I gave Mr. Wilshere those apples, and he cut them into little rabbit shapes to cheer you up." She showed me fragments of the shattered apple. Tears fell from her eyes. I turned my head away. "Disgusting." "Walt, you—!" Furious, she sat down on a stool. "Fine! I'll stay right here to see how you could possibly be in the right!" As soon as she sat down, she noticed a broken photo frame in the wastebasket. "Is this... a picture of you and Mr. Wilshere?" She picked it up carefully, flipping through the photos one by one. "You two used to be so close. Look at how you hugged him here. And look, you even wrote here: 'I will love Daddy forever'." I cast her a cold, indifferent glance. "Haven't you noticed that these were all taken when I was a kid?" Amber froze. She flipped the photos back and forth. "Come to think of it... where is your mother? When I was helping Mr. Wilshere clean up just now, I noticed there weren't any photos of a woman in his room. There were only photos of you two. Is your mother..." Chapter 2 "She's not dead," I answered flatly. Amber let out a sigh of relief, but quickly sighed again. "Earlier, I saw him holding a picture of you when you were little and wiping away tears in secret. He said that once you grew up, you didn't want to acknowledge him as your father anymore." "Walt..." A timid voice came from outside the door. "Dinner's ready. You and Amber should come out to eat. I bought beef today..." "Get lost!" I slammed the door shut with force. I tore open an old loaf of bread from my schoolbag and took a harsh bite. Amber stood up. "Mr. Wilshere, he's in a bad mood, so don't take it to heart..." My father looked past her shoulder at me. His eyes grew even redder. He nodded, turned around, and walked away, showing Amber his unsteady, desolate back. The live-stream comments went crazy. [Walt, if you don't want such a wonderful father, give him to me! My dad left before I was even born...] [I wish I could punch someone through the screen...] Amber lay down on my makeshift floor bed, deep in troubled thoughts. I watched her constantly twist and rub her pendant against her chest. "Did I do something wrong...?" I knew what she meant. She thought she shouldn't have listened to me and come here to secretly film a pitiful father. I turned over and ignored her. Before long, however, she shook me awake with a firm grip. "Wake up! Mr. Wilshere is sick!" My father's cheeks were flushed, and his forehead was burning hot. Yet, out of habit, he still wiped his grease-stained hands on his apron and smiled at me. "Walt, I specifically went all the way to Closer Street to buy some excellent ribs for you. Look, BBQ ribs. These were your favorite when you were little, weren't they?" Amber was stunned. "Closer Street is 12 miles away. Mr. Wilshere, did you walk all the way there in ten-degree weather?" My father smiled apologetically. "Walt wouldn't eat his dinner..." Amber lowered her head and wiped away a tear. "Here, Walt, have a taste. I've washed my hands clean, so it's not dirty." "Mr. Wilshere, how could you ever be dirty?" Amber snatched the rib, nearly shoving the rib directly into my mouth. "Come on, try it. It's Mr. Wilshere's heartfelt gesture." I didn't move an inch. I just stared at my father. He looked at me with an expression full of eager anticipation. Amber also waited expectantly for my reaction. Every single viewer was waiting for my attitude to thaw. Not a single person noticed the flash of mockery in my father's eyes, a mockery that only I could read. I smiled at Amber. "You see? He's always so good at acting." After lightly dropping those words, I turned around and walked back into my room. Behind me came Amber's panicking voice. "Mr. Wilshere! Mr. Wilshere, what's wrong?! Walt! Get over here right now! Mr. Wilshere passed out!" Amber took care of my father's hospitalization procedures entirely on her own. The live-stream comments were already cursing me into oblivion. Not only that, my personal information was also doxxed. My photos were turned into funeral portraits, stamped with bright red characters bearing my name and plastered across the streets and alleys. When Amber returned three days later, her eyes were teary. "You truly have not an ounce of conscience. I really want to take you to a hospital to check if you're missing some kind of human-specific genetic sequence." "Like I said, observe for a month," I stared at her. "Don't jump to conclusions before the 30th day." She violently threw my coat onto the floor. She refused to spare me another look. Finally, on the 10th day, she noticed something was amiss. "Walt, I've noticed that Mr. Wilshere goes out every single night." Chapter 3 Amber and I tailed my father all the way to an affluent neighborhood. Before the gate of the most magnificent and luxurious mansion there, my father pulled out an access card, swiped it, and walked inside. We couldn't follow him any further. The live-stream chat scrolled wildly. [This is the most expensive area in the city. A single square meter can go for seven figures! How does Mr. Wilshere have an access card to a place like that?!] [Look how smooth and familiar his movements are! It doesn't feel like it's his first time here!] Amber grew eager to step forward, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Stop. There's no point." When we returned to that rundown apartment and opened the door, a dark silhouette stood right before us. Red, bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at me. "Walt!" Amber instantly pulled me behind her to shield me. The lights flickered on, and my father was smiling as usual. "You're back? Don't go out in the middle of the night. But of course... you're all grown up now, so I shouldn't meddle too much in your affairs..." The chat exploded. [Holy crap, watching this stream in the middle of the night almost scared me to death!] [A pair of glowing red eyes suddenly appeared at midnight. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!] Amber was dumbfounded. We should have gotten home first, so how was my father already waiting inside for us? Amber pulled me into my room. "Wait!" My father called out. I slowly turned around. He handed me a stack of hundred-dollar bills with both hands, the corners of his eyes crinkling with happy smiles. "I made some money!" I froze. The live-stream chat was filled with question marks. [Wait, that huge mansion earlier... was Mr. Wilshere working there as a cleaner?!] Because I didn't take the money, my father shoved it into my hands. "I know you look down on me for selling fish, and I'm embarrassing you in front of your friends... so I found a job cleaning houses for rich people." Recalling the past, he lowered his head and sighed, his eyes growing teary. "This is my first paycheck, and I immediately cashed it out. You can finally stand tall in front of your friends... If anything makes you unhappy from now on, just tell me. Don't resort to violence. Look, I can make money too." The chat instantly felt bad for him. [No wonder his eyes are red, it turns out he was crying...] [Look what you did, Walt! Even a dog doesn't despise a poor family! He only got that much money after cleaning a mansion that big. Are you trying to drive your father to an early grave?!] [So basically, Walt resented his family for being poor, so he stabbed his father?] [Oh god, I can't take this anymore. My hands are shaking.] "Stop lying!" I hurled the money right at his face, my chest heaving violently. "You're so good at acting, Derrick Wilshere! Can't you speak the truth for once?!" My father froze, looking blankly at the banknotes raining down all around us. Amber couldn't hold back anymore. "Walt, Mr. Wilshere just recovered from a severe injury! Don't treat him like that!" "No, it's my fault..." My father lowered his head, his six-foot-tall figure seeming to shrink smaller. "It's my fault for failing to give Walt a good life, leaving him underfed and poorly clothed... I've also let his mother down..." He looked at me with reddened eyes. "Walt, if you think this isn't enough, I saw an ad by a medical institution recruiting human drug testers..." "Mr. Wilshere!" Amber frowned. "Stop talking nonsense!" My father closed his mouth and covered one eye with his hand as sighs escaped him. I went to my room without looking back. In the living room, Amber consoled my father the entire night. I couldn't help opening a tiny gap in the door to peek outside. The moment I did, my father's gaze locked directly onto mine. Chapter 4 That familiar mockery, readable only by me, flashed briefly across his face and vanished. That night, Amber scolded me. "I talked with Mr. Wilshere all night. He's a pitiful single father. You shouldn't treat him like that!" The chat was flooded with a sea of [ungrateful son]. I didn't retort. I stood up. "Do you really want me to obey everything he says?" She nodded. "Fine." I walked into the kitchen, took out the BBQ ribs my father prepared, and ate a piece. Shortly after, red hives began breaking out all over my arms. I clutched my throat, unable to utter a single word. "Walt!" I pointed frantically at my windpipe. It was swelling up; no air could get through. When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital ward. Amber stared at the lab results in utter disbelief. "Celery? You're allergic to celery, and there was celery mixed into the ribs?" "I don't even like BBQ ribs in the first place." Amber froze. "But didn't Mr. Wilshere say you've loved them since you were a kid..." Seeing that I remained silent, she paused. "And the celery... maybe Mr. Wilshere accidentally put it in by mistake?" I let out a bitter laugh. Choked for words, she turned around and walked out the door. I was struck by sudden chest pain and shortness of breath. I quickly looked up. Noticing the fluid dripping from the IV bag, I frantically pressed the call button. No sound came out. A dark silhouette flashed past the window. I pressed the button several more times with all my might. The call panel shattered completely. As breathing grew difficult once more, I tumbled off the bed, completely drained of strength. "Walt!" The door was kicked open. Amber's voice was laced with frantic panic. It turned out that cyanide had been injected into my IV drip. It took three days and three nights of emergency resuscitation to pull me back from the brink of death. My father knelt by my hospital bed, weeping so hard his eyes were swollen like walnuts. The doctor patted my shoulder. "Your father knelt beside your bed praying for three days straight." I forced myself up with great effort. Bam! A heavy fist smashed straight into my father's face. We were pulled apart with great difficulty. My father's grief-stricken excuses echoed down the entire hospital hallway. I covered my ears, refusing to listen. "You suspect Mr. Wilshere poisoned you?" Amber found it incredulous. "It wasn't him," I said coldly. "But he is inextricably linked to it." After Amber finished smoking a cigarette, she looked completely worn out. "Fine. I'll trust you one last time." Because she had spent her days secretly filming a pitiful father, she was now being swarmed and attacked by countless internet trolls. This month-long filming process had nearly broken her spirit. I took my father to court once more. Amber acted as my witness, testifying that she had indeed seen someone lurking outside my hospital room while she was smoking. All the evidence pointed toward my father. Yet, with reddened eyes, he pulled out certificate after certificate. He showed proof of the blood he had donated for me, the times he had kneeled down to beg his wealthy employers for medical loans, and the hours he had spent kneeling beside my hospital bed praying for divine intervention. "If I really wanted to kill you, why would I keep sacrificing myself for you?" On his arms were densely packed needle marks, traces of him drawing blood for my transfusions. Doctors stepped forward to testify as well, confirming that the volume of blood my father had donated far exceeded safe medical limits. Amber fell silent. She looked at me and nodded, acknowledging that what my father said was true. In the end, I lost the lawsuit again. Only this time, my father counter-sued me, filing for a restraining order against me. Netizens signed joint petitions in support of him. Having watched Amber's live-streams, they had already formed a firm judgment about what kind of person my father was. Seeing him sacrifice everything for me time and again only to receive a heartless response in return, they grew to utterly despise me. Chapter 5 Before the reporters' cameras, my father looked at me with swollen eyes. "I'm sorry, Walt, I can't do this any more... I love you, but I also want to stay alive to keep you company for a little longer." The moment Amber returned, she smashed the pinhole camera to pieces. "I shouldn't have listened to you! For 30 days, I tormented an innocent father! I'm done! Take care of yourself!" "It's not 30 days yet," I reminded her. Without answering, she packed her bag and turned to leave. "Farewell," I said goodbye. Her footsteps paused, and she turned back. "What did you say?" I smiled. "Thank you for keeping me company, but barring any accidents, I'm about to die." She paused, spat out a cold "liar", and slammed the door shut behind her. On the night of the 30th day, I lay quietly in bed. Suddenly, the window was pulled open with a violent yank. Amber climbed in through the window and grabbed me firmly by the shoulders. "There's something wrong with your father! The live-streams are all fake! Come with me!" She gave me a tug, but I didn't budge. "Why aren't you moving? Let's go!" Panic crept into her voice. The blanket was yanked back. Amber's eyes widened in horror. "Your legs..." Looking at my fractured legs, her breathing turned ragged. "Who did this...?" "Never mind that. I'm still under a restraining order, everything's too late... Huh? Amber!" She managed to help me get out of my home. Once we were inside her car, she tossed a recording device into my lap. "There was one detail we overlooked the entire time." She pointed to the footage we recorded after following my father to the mansion. When we were leaving, Amber had stubbornly kept recording for a few extra seconds out of lingering suspicion. It was precisely those few seconds that captured my father standing behind the door. Clinging to his side was a woman dressed in an exquisite high-fashion gown. The two of them leaned against each other and looked out toward the camera. The apron my father wore year-round was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, exuding the undeniable air of a high-class elite. If one hadn't paused the video to inspect it closely, it would have been impossible to recognize him as the fishmonger father. The image lasted only a few seconds and was easily overlooked. But when magnified, you could clearly read my father's lips saying, "They've found out..." "I suspect he has been acting ever since we returned from that mansion." Amber stepped harder on the accelerator. I let out a soft chuckle. "No, he's been acting since the day I was born." Amber's eyes widened in surprise. "What else do you know?" I smiled. "Didn't you say you're already facing heavy cyberbullying just for filming my father? Aren't you worried you might completely ruin your career if you keep filming?" "I am a journalist. The truth is something I must uphold." I offered a bitter smile. "I'm guessing... you're not actually your father's biological son?" "I am!" My eyes reddened as I stared fixedly ahead. "It is precisely because I am his biological son that he treats me this way." "Is it because... your mother once wronged him? Is that why he transfers his hatred to you?" I shook my head. "Look at the woman leaning in his arms in that video. Does it look like he resents my mother?" "You're his biological son, your parents are deeply in love, and your family possesses immense wealth. Yet, he lives with you in a rundown apartment while posing as a single father. Is that what you're trying to say?" I leaned back against the car seat. "The truth is, I—" Bang! A black car suddenly surged out of a narrow alley and crashed heavily into the side of Amber's vehicle. "Amber!!" I screamed.