I lunged toward Principal Newman like someone grasping at a lifeline. "Principal Newman, call 911! A child's been hit, and he's still alive!"

Principal Newman's gaze fell on the child lying on the ground, his expression shifting. "Don't panic. Let me take a look."

He turned and said something to a teacher, who nodded and hurried off.

I pressed urgently. "Did you call 911?"

Principal Newman didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Owen. "Are you the child's father?"

Owen shook his head and pointed at me. "He's the father. I'm his friend. I hit the kid by accident."

Principal Newman nodded, then turned to me. "Don't panic yet. I've already sent for our school nurse. Let's have him assess the situation first."

I froze. "The school nurse? You're not calling an ambulance?"

"Even if we call one, we'll have to wait. It's better to have the nurse check on him first. Don't worry, our nurse is very experienced."

Something felt wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Within minutes, a middle-aged man in a white coat came running over with a medical kit.

"Principal Newman, what's going on?"

Principal Newman gestured toward the child on the ground. "Car accident. See what you can do."

"See what you can do?" Why did that sound so wrong?

The man knelt down, lifted the child's eyelids, and felt for a pulse at his neck. The whole process took less than 30 seconds.

Then he stood up and brushed the dust off his hands. "He's gone. His pupils are dilated. Just find somewhere to bury him."

Something snapped inside me.

"What did you just say?"

I rushed forward and grabbed his coat. "You barely looked at him, and you're already calling it? Did you even examine him properly?"

The man stumbled backward, irritation flooding his face. "Am I the medical professional here or are you? I said he's gone, so he's gone. What else is there to see?"

"That's bullshit!" My vision went red. "He was alive! I heard him say it hurts just now!"

"That was a nerve reflex. The body's last response."

He pulled free from my grip and straightened his coat. "If you don't believe me, check for yourself. See if he's moving now."

I dropped to the child's side, my hand shaking as I touched his face. It was cold. He really wasn't moving anymore.

Tears flooded my eyes. It wasn't my son, but this was a life.

I shot to my feet, eyes burning as I turned to Principal Newman. "I'm calling the police! This is a matter of life and death!"

His face hardened instantly. "Have you lost your mind? If this gets out, our kindergarten's reputation will be destroyed. Who would send their children here after that?"

I stared in shock. "This is a human life!"

"The child is already dead!" Principal Newman's voice rose sharply. "What good will calling the police do now? Will it bring him back?"

Owen sidled up to me and grabbed my arm. "Quinn, the principal's right. Don't do anything rash. Your son's already gone. Making this public won't help anyone."

I shook him off violently. "Shut up!"

Owen stumbled but didn't get angry. His tone grew even softer. "Quinn, I know you're heartbroken, but you need to think about the bigger picture. We'll handle the child's funeral properly. We'll pay for everything. We won't shortchange him."

Principal Newman nodded, his tone gentler now. "Here's what we'll do. The school will contribute 50 thousand dollars, and your friend will contribute another 50 thousand—100 thousand dollars in total. Take it, and we can put this behind us."

I looked at them as if I was staring at monsters. "That's a life. You think you can settle this with 100 thousand dollars?"

Owen sighed, a trace of impatience creeping into his voice. "Quinn, stop being so stubborn. I apologized, and I'm willing to pay. What more do you want? To see me behind bars?"

Principal Newman nodded. "Exactly. The dead can't come back. You need to move forward. 100 thousand dollars is quite generous. People of your station aren't worth that much money."

What did he just say?

Blood rushed to my head.

"You'd better wait right there. I'm calling the police now."

I reached for my phone, then remembered Owen had taken it from me. "Give me back my phone!"

Owen instinctively stepped back, hiding the phone behind him. "No way. You can't call the police!"

"Give it to me!"

I lunged at him. Owen yelped and dodged backward.

Principal Newman shouted from the side, "Stop him! Someone stop him!"

Two teachers rushed forward and grabbed my arms from both sides. I struggled with everything I had, but I couldn't break free.

Something cold flickered in Owen's eyes. "Quinn, don't blame me for this. I'm doing this for your own good. Once you calm down, you'll realize that 100 thousand dollars is better than making this a bigger mess."

"You killed someone, and now you're stopping me from calling the police. That's for my own good?"

I stared him down. Owen looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

Something had felt off about how he'd insisted on driving to pick up his kid today. He used to be terrified of driving. He'd even put off getting his license for years because of that.

Principal Newman sighed. "Alright, enough of this. The child's already gone. Making a scene won't help."

"Tell you what, I'll add another 20 thousand. 120 thousand dollars total. That's my final offer. Take the money, go home, and handle the funeral properly."

I looked at them, then suddenly laughed. "Principal Newman, do you know whose child just died?"

Principal Newman frowned. "Isn't it your son?"

Owen turned to look at me too.

I forced a smile. "My son has a fever. He didn't even come to kindergarten today."

Owen's expression froze. "What did you say?"

"I said Elliot has a fever. My mother's watching him at home. He never came to school."

Owen shot to his feet. "That's impossible! It can't be! That kid's wearing the same clothes as Elliot. I saw it clearly!"

"The clothes might be the same, but the person isn't."

Principal Newman reacted the fastest, immediately changing his tune. "Oh! So it was a misunderstanding! Then whose child is this? Someone contact the parents immediately!"

He turned to the teachers. "Go check which class has a child absent today. Figure out who this is!"

I watched him coldly. "A minute ago, you said it was my son and wanted to settle this privately. Now that you know it's not, suddenly you're in a hurry to find the parents?"

Principal Newman's smile froze.

Owen's expression shifted. He seemed to think of something, then moved closer and tugged at my sleeve.

"Quinn, I was wrong just now. Don't take it to heart. Look, since this isn't your son, it has nothing to do with you anymore. Why don't you head home? We'll handle it from here."

Nothing to do with me? I looked at his face and suddenly felt as though he were a stranger.

"Funny how it involved me when you were grabbing my phone a minute ago."

Owen's expression changed. I couldn't be bothered with him anymore. I turned and walked toward the child.

It didn't matter whose child it was. I couldn't just leave him lying there like this. But I'd only taken two steps when a voice spoke up behind me.

"Wait, that doesn't seem right. I remember your son came to school this morning."

I stopped in my tracks. "What did you say?"

One of the teachers spoke up hesitantly. "I was at the gate this morning, greeting the children. I saw Elliot come in with my own eyes. He was wearing that blue hoodie."

My stomach dropped. "That's impossible! Elliot has a fever. He didn't come today!"

"I really did see him!" The young teacher grew anxious. "I even said hello to him. He greeted me and everything!"

Another teacher nearby nodded. "That's right, I saw him too. He even waved at me."

I stood there frozen, my head spinning. Owen looked at the teachers, then at me. A slow smile spread across his face.

"Quinn, didn't you say Elliot didn't come to school? How come so many teachers saw him then? They can't all be seeing things, can they? Maybe you're just too upset and got confused?"

I clenched my fists. "That's impossible! My mother's home with him. He couldn't have come!"

Owen laughed mockingly. "Then call and ask. That'll settle it, won't it?"

He held out the phone to me. I stared at his face, suddenly uneasy.

I took the phone, my hand shaking as I dialed. After a few rings, someone picked up.

"Hello? Quinn?"

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "Mom, is Elliot with you?"

"Elliot?" My mother paused. "Elliot went to school."

My head spun. "He had a fever. I thought he wasn't going?"

"His fever broke this morning. He insisted on going and said that he'd made plans with his friends." She sounded so casual. "I dropped him off at the gate myself. Why? What's wrong?"

I opened my mouth, but my throat felt blocked.

"Hello? Quinn? What happened?" She was still talking, but I couldn't hear her anymore.

The phone slipped from my hand and hit the ground with a sharp crack. I turned slowly, staring at the small body on the ground.

That blue hoodie. It was the exact same blue hoodie as Elliot's.

Could it really be him?

I walked over and pulled back the cloth covering the child's face. There was only blood and torn flesh. His features were unrecognizable.

Something inside me shattered. A wail tore from my throat.

Owen approached, trying to console me. "Quinn, is it really Elliot? Listen, don't be too upset. There's nothing we can do now—"

I shoved him away and lunged forward, grabbing his collar. "You killed him!"

Owen stumbled and fell, looking aggrieved. "Quinn! I already told you it wasn't on purpose! What are you doing?"

"Not on purpose? It sure seemed pretty deliberate when you grabbed my phone and wouldn't let me call for help."

Owen's face went stiff for a moment.

Principal Newman rushed over to intervene. "Alright, alright, everyone calm down! What's done is done. The most important thing now is handling the funeral arrangements!"

Funeral arrangements?

I turned to look at him, my eyes burning. "You weren't so concerned about doing the right thing five minutes ago."

Principal Newman's expression darkened.

Owen pulled himself up from the ground and brushed the dust off his clothes. The wounded look on his face slowly gave way to irritation.

"I already apologized. What more do you want? Do you want to beat me to death?"

"Apologized?" I stared him down. "You killed my son, stole my phone, stopped me from calling an ambulance, and now one apology makes everything okay?"

"Then what do you want?" Owen's voice rose. "Didn't I say it wasn't on purpose? I'm willing to pay! What else do you want me to do?"

He looked at me with venom in his eyes. "I was trying to comfort you, and you pushed me. Look at you, acting like a lunatic. If I didn't feel sorry for you for losing your son, I wouldn't bother with you at all!"

He turned to Principal Newman. "Principal, have someone pull him away. Get the child taken care of. The sooner we lay him to rest, the better."

Principal Newman nodded and waved at the teachers. "Pull him back."

Two teachers moved forward and grabbed my arms from both sides, trying to drag me away.

"Let go of me!" I fought against them. "Don't touch my son!"

A hand suddenly struck across my face. My head snapped to the side, and blood seeped from the corner of my mouth.

Owen lowered his hand, breathing hard as he glared at me. "Have you made enough of a scene? Are you going to let us move him or not?"

I held my face, pure hatred coursing through me. I was about to fight back when a voice suddenly called out from behind me.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

I turned around and froze. Elliot stood at the gate, completely unharmed.

Then who the hell was the dead child?