Chapter 60

On the other side, after leaving the meeting, Director Johnson waited outside the restaurant for a while, smoked two cigarettes, then gritted his teeth and drove to Michael’s house.

Mrs. Michael had already finished her treatment at the hospital. The bruises and external injuries on her body had all healed. What remained was psychological treatment, which, depending on the circumstances, might continue for three months to half a year, perhaps even longer.

A long psychological treatment course also meant a great deal of expense. Michael’s work had already been suspended, cutting off the family’s income in one stroke.

Although there was still some money in his bank account, about twenty thousand dollars, it was nowhere near enough to cover all the expenses that would follow.

In truth, to ordinary people, especially the poor living in the Lower City, psychological treatment was the very definition of a rich man’s illness. Those girls who grew up on the chaotic streets of the Lower City had, almost without exception, been raised amid one form of harassment or another.

From verbal harassment to little physical violations, even the possibility of outright violence, by rights those people should all have twisted beyond repair or destroyed themselves, yet that was not entirely so.

Some of them had indeed gone down the road of self-destruction, but others still lived on, stubborn and optimistic.

Pain could wound a person, but it could also give them the courage to long for strength. It was only because they stood in darkness that they yearned all the more for light. All of that was nonsense. Life was simply living, and to live, one had to be strong.

When Director Johnson parked outside Michael’s house, he saw the police car by the roadside, and the two officers taking afternoon tea nearby.

They merely glanced at Johnson once, then looked away and went back to focusing on the sweet coffee and chocolate-smeared doughnuts in their hands.

Although Michael had already left the police station, he was still under surveillance. Without necessity, he was not allowed to leave his residence, nor was he allowed to communicate alone with outsiders.

Still, in consideration of the fact that he too had once been a man with a badge, the police had relaxed their watch on him somewhat. When he spoke with others, an officer did not need to be present on the scene.

Director Johnson had been to Michael’s house more than once, several times in fact. Every time, he had thought Michael was rather fortunate, a harmonious family, a smooth career, the whole house full of the brightness of a life on the rise.