Chapter97 The Letter of Forgiveness
At the hospital, in the VIP ward.
Arabella's complexion had improved after several days of recuperation.
Miranda was sitting by the bed, peeling an apple for her, when the ward door was gently knocked.
She looked up and saw Harrison enter, carrying a fruit basket and a bouquet of flowers.
Miranda paused her apple peeling, a subtle frown crossing her face.
“What are you doing here?”
Her tone was not warm; in fact, it was distant.
While he had taken her mother to the hospital that day, she had already sent Lisa with a gift to express her thanks.
Beyond that, she wanted no further contact with the man.
Harrison set the items down, a gentle smile on his face, and looked at Arabella on the bed: “I came to see your mother.”
Arabella didn't particularly like Harrison either, but since he had come with a pleasant demeanor, she nodded politely: “That’s thoughtful of you.”
Harrison exchanged a few pleasantries, then his gaze shifted to Miranda.
He looked at her slightly drawn face, a complicated emotion flashing in his eyes.
“Miranda, can we talk outside for a moment? There's something I need to discuss with you.”
Miranda handed the peeled apple to her mother, wiped her hands, and said coolly, “Whatever it is, say it here. My mother is not an outsider.”
Harrison looked troubled, glancing hesitantly at Arabella before finally seeming to make up his mind.
“It’s about Ariana.”
The air in the ward immediately thickened at the mention of that name.
Miranda’s face completely turned to ice. She stood up, tucked the blanket around her mother, grabbed her jacket, and walked toward the door first.
“Let’s talk outside.”
She didn't want her mother to hear that woman's name and get upset.
The two went downstairs to a café near the hospital.
As soon as they were seated, Miranda didn't even order coffee, getting straight to the point: “Speak. What about Ariana?”
Harrison laced his hands together on the table, looking anxious.
“Miranda, Ariana has been detained for three days now. She hasn't been eating or sleeping well inside; she's lost weight and is constantly crying.”
Miranda leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a sneer playing on her lips: “It’s a detention center, not a five-star hotel. Since she dared to break the law, she should be prepared to face the consequences.”
Miranda wasn't surprised to hear that Ariana was detained; after all, there was no way she would let the person behind the attack go free.
Since Ariana chose to slander her with rumors, she should bear the corresponding consequences.
“How can that be considered a crime?” Harrison argued desperately. “It was just a few comments online. It didn't cause you any actual physical harm. And Ariana said she had no idea; she claims those marketing accounts made it up. The police must have made a mistake.”
Miranda looked at the man in front of her and felt only absurdity.
“Harrison, you’re an educated man. How have you lost all basic sense of right and wrong?”
Her voice was sharp and clear.
“The police rely on evidence. IP addresses, transaction records, chat screenshots—the entire chain of evidence points to Ariana. And you're here telling me the police made a mistake?”
Harrison was momentarily speechless, but he wouldn't give up.
He took a deep breath, pulled a prepared document from his briefcase, and pushed it across the table to Miranda.
“I know you're still angry. But Miranda, let’s be forgiving. Ariana is still your sister, after all. If she gets a criminal record, her entire future will be ruined.”
“This is a letter of forgiveness.”
Harrison looked into Miranda's eyes, his tone carrying a sense of entitled pleading.
“Just sign this, stating that you won't pursue the matter, and Ariana can be released on bail, and this whole thing can be swept under the rug.”
Miranda lowered her gaze and scanned the document.
The dense clauses essentially required her to admit that everything was a misunderstanding, an internal family conflict, and that she willingly dropped all charges against Ariana.
Once she signed it, Ariana would walk free, ready to continue flaunting her privilege in front of Miranda.
Miranda suddenly laughed.
The laugh was bright and beautiful, yet cold as ice.
She extended a single finger, placed it on the letter of forgiveness, and slowly, deliberately pushed it back toward Harrison.
“Harrison, is your brain fried?”
Miranda lifted her eyes, her clear, almond-shaped eyes filled with mockery and sharp contempt.
“When she was fabricating slander against me, did she ever consider ruining me? Now that she’s been caught, she’s scared, and you want me to just let it go?”
“I'm telling you, absolutely not.”
Miranda stood up, looking down at the ashen-faced Harrison, stating every word clearly.
“Not only will I refuse to sign this letter, but I’m instructing my lawyer to file a lawsuit and request the maximum sentence.”
“You—!” Harrison jumped up. “Miranda, when did you become so vicious? That’s your sister!”
“Vicious?”
Miranda let out a cold laugh, her eyes like knives.
“Compared to what you people have done to me, I’m not even a fraction as bad.”
“And,” she leaned in, lowering her voice, creating a palpable pressure.
“Instead of begging me, you should go back and investigate what your supposedly pure and flawless sister Ariana has been up to with your money.”
With that, Miranda didn't give him another look and walked out of the café.
Harrison stood alone, clutching the rejected letter of forgiveness, his face alternating between red and white, utterly humiliated.
Outside the window, Celeste sat in a parked black sedan.
Wearing sunglasses, she watched Miranda and Harrison "arguing" at the window. Though she couldn't hear what they were saying, their gestures and expressions showed high emotion.
She took out her phone and snapped several pictures of them.
The angles were deliberately chosen.
They made it look like Harrison was desperately trying to keep Miranda, and she, despite being angry, was still deeply entangled with him.
Celeste looked at the photos on her screen, a satisfied smirk on her lips.
“What a great show.”
She lightly tapped her screen, sending the pictures to that familiar number.
She added a short text:
【Cousin, I saw your wife. She seems to be arguing with someone. Want to come over?】
Swiping past the photos one by one.
Clifton pressed the lock button, and the screen instantly went black, cutting off the unread message notification.
He didn't reply.
Outside the car window, Celeste looked at the cold “Read” on her phone screen, a triumphant curve to her smile.
No reply was the best reply.
It meant her cousin already had doubts planted in his mind.