They Called Me the Family Outcast, I Sent Them to Trial Chapter 03
Author: Redleaves
My father noticed that I was trembling all over and took me straight to his study.
I told him everything: how Viola had pretended to be the Chairman’s daughter and convinced everyone to cancel their registration appointments.
He immediately had someone pull her file.
Viola was not the Chairman’s daughter.
Her father, Tony Romano, was just a records clerk in the Commission’s archives department.
He had access to the Commission building and a department vehicle, but he had no authority to change the evacuation list.
My father was so furious that he called Security on the spot.
“I’ll have them brought in right now.”
“Not yet. Send out one final registration notice first.”
I placed my hand over his.
The Commission had already made the rules perfectly clear.
Viola could lie to people, but she couldn’t cancel a single appointment for them.
They knew there was an official registration process, yet they chose to skip it.
My father was silent for a moment. Then he ordered Security to keep an eye on Tony and his daughter and sent another notice to every member.
The evacuation list will be sealed at eight o’clock tomorrow night. Anyone who fails to register in person will be deemed to have voluntarily forfeited the Family’s protection.
The message couldn’t have been clearer.
I went to the neutral church, verified my identity, and had my fingerprints taken.
Ten minutes later, the system confirmed my registration.
My father finally relaxed when he saw the confirmation on my phone screen.
“You’re my daughter, but during an emergency evacuation, everyone has to follow the same rules.”
Don Luca Bellini forwarded the notice to every group chat and required each member to confirm that they’d read it.
But in the group chats he wasn’t part of, everyone mocked the warning.
“Those poor suckers are still waiting in line.”
“Viola’s already got us covered. Who’s still going to that church?”
Matteo even tagged me in the chat.
“Go line up now, and you might still snag a seat at the back of the convoy.”
Then Viola posted a selfie.
She stood outside the Commission building with a family visitor badge her father had arranged hanging around her neck.
“I’m handling your paperwork right now. Just sit tight.”
Before long, someone posted party photos in the chat.
They had projected the final notice onto the wall as a joke, popped champagne, and raised their glasses to celebrate their supposed spots on the priority convoy.
Matteo sat beside Viola, deleting every registration reminder himself.
I left the group chat.
Ten hours remained before the list was sealed.
