99 Crimes, Countless Blessings — and None of Them Were Mine Chapter 02
The bloody words had not yet faded from the record when the world began to twist.
When my vision cleared, I was twelve years old.
The Judge held an acceptance letter, reading it over and over.
“Westbridge Academy. Full scholarship.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth lifted, as if he could finally breathe for me.
“Maybe things finally got better for you after this.”
I looked at the letter, and my nose burned.
Because I knew.
They would take this from me too.
Mom and Dad were giving an interview in the foundation’s event hall.
A banner behind them read: EVERY CHILD DESERVES AN EDUCATION.
Ruby stood in front of the cameras and said education could change a life.
Applause thundered beyond the curtain.
Backstage, Dad dragged the Judge aside and snatched the acceptance letter from his hand.
“When you go onstage, you’ll say you’re giving up your place at Westbridge voluntarily.”
“Ruby’s up for the statewide Youth Humanitarian Award. She needs the right scholarship story.”
The Judge gripped the other end of the letter.
“I earned this.”
Mom frowned.
“You give up the scholarship. Then Ruby sponsors a low-income student in your place.”
“That way, everyone remembers how generous she is.”
I floated to the Judge’s side, my throat tight.
“Say yes. Otherwise, they’ll tear it up.”
He turned sharply. Black mist churned in his eyes.
“Is there no justice anywhere in this world?”
“You earned this. Why does she get to take it?”
My fingers slowly curled into my palms.
“You can’t win against them.”
Dad looked at Adrian.
“Then make sure she can never use that admission.”
Adrian understood at once.
He came down the steps and slipped an envelope into the Judge’s backpack.
The Judge reached to throw it away, but the backstage door burst open.
Teachers, reporters, and scholarship families flooded in.
Adrian grabbed the backpack first and ripped it open.
Cash scattered across the floor.
“A thief!”
“She stole tuition money from a child who has nothing!”
The mother of the scholarship recipient dropped to her knees and clutched the Judge’s pants.
“We can barely survive as it is. Why would you steal the money that was supposed to keep my daughter in school?”
“I didn’t!”
The Judge pointed at Adrian.
“He put it in my bag!”
Dad stepped between them.
“The Sinclair family gives away tens of millions every year. Why would any of us steal a few thousand dollars?”
Mom wiped away tears.
“She’s been jealous of other children since she was little.”
The more the Judge protested, the more disgusted everyone became.
The headmaster tore the acceptance letter from his hand.
“Grades don’t matter without character.”
The paper tore with a sharp rip.
The letter fell in pieces.
The Judge reached for them, but every scrap slipped through his fingers.
I crouched nearby, my chest tightening until it hurt to breathe.
At twelve, I had picked those pieces out of the trash and spent the entire night taping them back together.
The next morning, Mom saw them and only frowned.
“Why did you bring garbage back into the house?”
Then she swept the pieces into the trash again.
Dad bowed deeply to the cameras.
“Charity begins at home—and so does accountability.”
“Even when the wrongdoer is our own daughter, we will never shield her from the consequences.”
The room erupted in applause.
Mom pressed a microphone to the Judge’s mouth.
“Tell everyone you stole the money.”
He locked his jaw and refused to speak.
Dad turned and took a dusty gray cat from a housekeeper.
It was the same stray that had survived when I was five.
He picked up the gray cat and held it firmly in his arms.
The cat struggled desperately.
My entire soul recoiled. My nails bit into my palms.
“Say it.”
“That cat had been with me for seven years.”
“I couldn’t let it die because of me.”
The Judge looked at me, darkness boiling behind his eyes.
After a long silence, he forced the words out.
“I stole the scholarship money.”
“I don’t deserve to go to school.”
The applause grew louder.
The record of sins opened overhead.
[Age twelve: Stole scholarship funds. Admission permanently revoked.]
On the other side, golden light poured into Ruby’s record of good deeds.
[Exposed a crime and helped one hundred children stay in school.]
The Judge stared at the two entries as black mist leaked from the corners of his eyes.
“What happened after that?”
“You could’ve gone somewhere else, couldn’t you?”
I looked at the crest on Ruby’s blazer and slowly shook my head.
“They turned my scandal into a public-service campaign about the dangers of theft—funded by our own foundation.”
“Every school in the county knew my face.”
The camera flashes went dark.
When the light returned, the microphone in the Judge’s hand had become a pair of cold steel handcuffs.
