"That one isn't mine!" I said through clenched teeth. "I sank mine in the pond!"
"What?" Phil's eyes went wide. "Sis, what are you talking about? Did the shock fry your brain?"
"I'm not crazy! I wheeled my e-bike up to the hillside pond at six this morning, strapped rocks to it, and sank it. The one that exploded is not mine."
The crowd went silent for a heartbeat—then erupted louder than before.
"The girl's lost her mind. Listen to this nonsense!"
"Sank it in the pond? She's just trying to weasel out of this!"
"Call the cops! Have them arrest her!"
Dad charged forward and slapped me across the face. "You ungrateful wretch! You still have the nerve to lie? Two people are dead!"
I cupped my cheek. Blood seeped from the corner of my mouth.
The slap hurt exactly as much as it had in my last life.
Back then, I thought he was genuinely furious, genuinely devastated.
I found out later it was all an act—designed to make the performance more convincing, to deepen my guilt, to make me willingly slave away for the family without complaint.
But this time, the explosion was real.
If they truly orchestrated all of this, then what about the two lives lost? And what about the Maybach still burning at the scene?
The police arrived quickly and cordoned off the area.
I was led aside to give a statement. My head was swimming, everything around me muffled and distant.
"Name?"
"Doreen James."
"Is the e-bike yours?"
"No." I lifted my head, eyes steady. "My e-bike is at the bottom of the hillside pond. I sank it there myself this morning. The one that exploded looks a lot like mine, but it isn't."
The officer frowned. "Ms. James, eyewitnesses at the scene have confirmed the e-bike was yours. What's more, we recovered fragments of your license plate from the blast site."
"That's impossible!" I shot to my feet. "My plate number is A88888. My brother registered it for me—said it was a lucky number. What plate did you find?"
The officer glanced down at his notes. "A88888."
The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I collapsed back into the chair.
It couldn't be. My e-bike was in the pond. How could my plate end up at the explosion?
Had someone fished my bike out?
But when? I'd sunk it at six in the morning. The explosion happened at three in the afternoon. Who could have hauled a bike out of water that deep in barely nine hours, then wheeled it to the village entrance, plugged it in to charge, and detonated it?
And why?
"I need to go to the pond." I grabbed the officer's arm. "Come with me to the hillside pond. My e-bike is down there—drag the bottom, and you'll find it!"
The two officers exchanged a look. Maybe it was the desperation in my face, but they finally nodded.
By the time we reached the hillside pond, villagers had already crowded the bank, craning their necks for a better view.
Two officers stripped off their jackets and waded into the freezing water.
I stood on the bank, waiting, hands clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms.
All they had to do was pull up that e-bike, and my name would be cleared.
The one that blew up was a fake—a plant. Someone had set me up.
"Got something!" One of the officers broke the surface, holding an object above the water.
My heart lurched into my throat.
It was a shard of red plastic—unmistakably from an e-bike shell.
"Is there more down there? The whole bike?" I called out.
The officer dove again. Minutes crawled by. When he surfaced, he shook his head.
"Nothing else down there. Just this piece and some rocks."
"That's impossible!" The scream tore out of me. "I sank the entire bike! I strapped four heavy rocks to it—how can it just be gone?"
