Chapter 1

At 3 AM, my neighbor John broke down my door with a group of people, claiming I'd hit someone with my car and fled the scene.

One of them grabbed me by the collar and yelled:

"It was you! You hit my dad and drove off. I got your license plate number. My dad's in the ICU right now, unconscious! You're taking full responsibility for this!"

He shoved his phone in my face, showing me photo evidence.

His wife stood beside him holding their child, wailing dramatically.

Still half-asleep, I had no idea what was happening. "What does this have to do with me?"

The crowd joined in, pointing fingers: "Hit someone and still managed to sleep—how cold-blooded! How can we have a criminal like this living here!"

Hit someone?

I'm red-green colorblind. I can't even drive!

"Sir, please calm down," I tried to keep my voice steady. "I didn't leave my apartment today. You must have the wrong person."

John lived in the unit below mine. We usually nodded to each other when we crossed paths.

But right now, he looked like he wanted to eat me alive.

He shoved his phone screen in my face. "Wrong person? Is this your license plate or not?"

The screen showed the rear of a Porsche Panamera, the plate number clear as day: A123.

I squinted at it for two seconds and nodded. "That's my car, but I—"

"So you admit it!" He turned to the other neighbors. "Everyone heard that, right? The car is hers!"

The hallway erupted.

"That's rich people for you—hit someone and won't own up to it."

"Look at her face, acting all innocent."

His wife pushed through with the child in her arms and collapsed to her knees, sobbing hysterically:

"Please, I'm begging you! My dad's on a ventilator. The surgery costs $30,000."

"It's nothing to you, but it'll destroy our family. You can't just let him die!"

My scalp prickled. I quickly tried to help her up. "Please get up first. We haven't even figured out what happened—"

"It's crystal clear!" John grabbed my arm. "I saw it with my own eyes! Your car ran a red light and sent my dad flying twenty feet!"

Finally fully awake, anger flared inside me:

"I didn't drive anywhere today! Just because you say I hit him means I did?"

"Thirty thousand dollars? Why not say three hundred thousand? I could just as easily say you're trying to rob me!"

The moment the words left my mouth, John's hand connected with my face.

The slap sent me stumbling back two steps, my ears ringing.

"Bullshit!" He jabbed his finger at my nose. "My father is dying!"

"If you don't pay up, I'll call the cops right now and have you thrown in jail! You won't get away with this!"

Someone in the hallway cheered him on: "Good! People like her need to be taught a lesson!"

The neighbors grew more agitated.

"Don't waste your breath on her—call the police! Lock her up!"

His wife knelt on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, the child wailing along with her.

Camera flashes went off in my face.

I covered my cheek and slowly straightened. "Fine. Call the police."

John froze.

"Didn't you say you'd call them? Go ahead." I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth.

I turned, pulled something from my bedside table, and slapped it against his chest.

"While you're at it, have them explain how someone who's red-green colorblind and can't drive managed to hit your dad!"

John stared down at the red-green colorblindness certificate for three seconds.

The shouting from the hallway stopped.

Someone muttered quietly, "Red-green colorblind? Doesn't that mean she can't get a license?"

"John, could you have... gotten the wrong person?"

I pointed at the paper in his hands. "See it clearly? It's got an official stamp. Can you read?"

John's face went from pale to flushed and back again.

The next second, he threw the paper on the ground. "You think one piece of paper can fool me?"

"You can afford a Porsche Panamera, but you don't have a license?" He stepped closer. "Besides, if you really are colorblind, that means you were driving without a license! That makes it even worse!"

The others nodded in sudden understanding.

"Right! She almost tricked us!"

"No wonder she ran the red light—she can't tell the colors apart at all!"

I had no interest in continuing this pointless argument.

"Fine," I pulled out my phone. "Like I said, let's call the police. We'll see if I'm playing dumb or if you're trying to scam me."

"Go ahead! Call them! We'll see who they arrest when they get here!" John snarled.

The call connected. I gave them the address and explained the situation.

After hanging up, I leaned against the doorframe without another word.

John kept ranting: "You're calling the police now just to stall until my dad dies!"

"Don't think you can get away with this. No matter what, I'm sending you to prison."

"Shut up," I said coldly. "Your dad's not dead yet. Why are you so eager to curse him? Afraid he'll die and you'll get less money?"