"Sir, please," she began in a steady, urgent tone, her gaze locked on Mr. Rockworth. "Calm down. I understand you're angry, and you have every right to be, but let's not escalate this further. We can talk this out—please." She gestured subtly towards the growing crowd, their phones held high, recording every moment.
The faint whispers and the rapid clicks of cameras seemed to break through Mr. Rockworth's haze of rage. His eyes darted to the faces in the crowd, then back to Ava, who stood defiantly behind the young woman. Had his opponent been a big man—or even just a man—he wouldn't have cared about the crowd or their cameras. But Ava was a teenage girl, and the woman before him barely older. Regardless of his justifications, he knew the community would chastise him, erasing any goodwill he had earned through his past deeds.
"What's going on here?"
Voices rang out from the edge of the scene as the families finally pushed past the crowd, their faces filled with concern and confusion.
Before they could say more, Mr. Rockworth, still visibly simmering but now focused on his daughter, turned to address them. "You'll be hearing from our lawyers," he said bitterly, his words clipped as he bent down to lift Brooke's unconscious form.
Before he could act, the young woman interjected sharply, her voice steady but commanding. "I'll carry her. You and your wife should focus on your son." She gestured towards Brock, still lying unconscious on the pavement, his mother fussing over him.
At that moment, the Sheriff and several officers approached, drawn by the commotion of honking cars and the crowd that had gathered. Their expressions shifted to alarm as they took in the sight of the Rockworth twins sprawled on the ground.
"What the hell happened here?" the Sheriff demanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the onlookers.
"That is what I should be asking you!" Mr. Rockworth snapped, his voice rising again as he knelt down by his daughter and rested her head on his lap. Then, pointing at Ace he demanded, "Why isn't that thief in your custody? Instead, he's roaming around, hitting—"
Before he could finish, Ava surged forward, her voice rising in a furious yell. "How dare you call him a thief? I swea—"
Her outburst was cut short as the young woman reacted quickly, catching Ava in a firm side hug and restraining her before she could reach Mr. Rockworth.
"—Layla, let go of me!" Ava struggled, her movements wild, but Layla's grip was unwavering.
Unable to break free, Ava glared over Layla's shoulder at Mr. Rockworth, her eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. "I swear to God, call him a thief one more time and I will beat you to death and bruy you right here!"
Layla hurriedly turned to face the Sheriff and Mr. Rockworth, still holding Ava tightly by the arm. With a forced smile and an uneasy chuckle, she explained, "Don't take her words seriously; she just has a bad temper."
Ava twisted in Layla's hold, her eyes blazing as she opened her mouth to argue, but her father quickly stepped forward, his expression dark as he barked, "Ava, shut up."
"But Dad," Ava protested, her voice rising in indignation, "they called Ace a thief! Brooke was the one who handed the Rural Revival staff her handbag to place in the duffle bag. I saw it with my own eyes! Ask that staff member—or even her when she wakes up—and the truth will come out."
Ava had witnessed Brooke give her handbag to the staff but had initially dismissed it, considering it none of her business. Even when Brooke later pretended to have lost her handbag, Ava had ignored it. But everything fell into place when Layla informed her why Ace was being escorted by the cops. Realizing what was happening, instead of informing Layla or the adults she decided to directly expose the truth to Ace, hoping it would earn her some favor with him.
However, seeing Brooke act so smug while accusing Ace of theft infront of a crowd despite her own actions enraged Ava. Fueled by righteous anger, she had acted on impulse. As her revelation sank in, the crowd collectively gasped, their murmurs swelling like a wave. The Rockworth couple's faces turned ghostly pale, while Ace, standing nearby, clenched his fists, already regretting his earlier decision to stop Ava from kicking Brooke.
The Sheriff, his brow furrowed and gaze stern, stepped forward and asked, "Girl, are you telling the truth? You're making serious accusations. This isn't something to lie about to save your friend from trouble."
Ava squared her shoulders, her voice steady as she replied, "You can check her phone. She transferred money to the staff through it."
"Sheriff, I will personally visit your office tomorrow morning to sort this out," Mr. Rockworth said with a measured tone, masking the tension in his voice. "But for now, I want to press charges against that girl for slander and assault. Also, help me carry my children to the infirmary."
He glanced at Ava, his eyes narrowing slightly. Despite his outward composure, his mind was racing. The girl's accusations rang painfully true—Brooke was more than capable of such behavior, as she had pulled similar stunts in the past. But David Rockworth was nothing if not calculating. He moved swiftly, directing his anger outward and aiming to discredit the sole witness to his daughter's crime. By charging Ava with slander and assault, he forcefully silence her.
As for the money transfer? He had already concocted several plausible explanations for it, ranging from a misunderstanding to a legitimate transaction. And the staff? She had already shown her silence could be bought. If he played his cards right, he could sweep his daughter's mess under the rug, just as he always did.
The Sheriff's sharp eyes studied David, his expression neutral but his thoughts churning. He knew David Rockworth too well. The man was shrewd, and even if the fault largely lay with his daughter, he would maneuver the situation to his advantage. But the Sheriff's attention also flicked to Layla, who was still standing protectively by Ava's side. Her closeness to the girl gave the Sheriff pause—this wasn't a matter he could let escalate without due care.
"David," the Sheriff said evenly, his tone firm but calm, "take your kids to the hospital first. We can discuss these matters later."
David's mouth tightened, his jaw flexing as though preparing to argue. But the Sheriff's subtle signal—a pointed pinch of the bridge of his nose—made David pause. He understood the unspoken message.
With a curt nod, David relented. "I'll do that," he said stiffly, his voice clipped. "But let's meet first thing tomorrow morning."
Without waiting for a response, he turned his attention back to his unconscious children while the sheriff signaled to his officers to help him move them.