Justice for Wronged Grandma Chapter 07By Novel7s / May 30, 2026 Justice for Wronged Grandma Chapter 07Her back was hunched. Barely in her fifties, her hair was already mostly white. She held a black memorial ash urn. A photo was stuck on top. It was my grandmother’s urn. She walked step by step to the stage. She looked up at Silas Crane. Her face was identical to his. The room went silent. No one spoke. No one dared move. But the camera shutters banged loudly. Then my mother held up a piece of paper–her birth certificate. It clearly showed: [1976, the year Silas Crane left Haven Hollow.] Date of birth: [June 13.] Matching the date Silas wrote about in his letters. Silas Crane’s pupils shook violently. He stumbled backward. The comments detonated: [That face… no DNA needed. It’s the same.] [What a monster! Left his pregnant wife in the valley and became a professor?] [And he stood on stage talking about fairness? How?] [This man should not be a professor. Like grandfather, like granddaughter!] Live viewership hit its peak. Silas Crane wiped sweat from his forehead, his voice shaking. “Jax! CUT THE LIVE STREAM NOW!” This time, Jax didn’t dare move. This live stream was arranged by Silas Crane himself. Pinned nationwide. All media invited by him. It was meant to destroy me. Now it was his own trial. My mother didn’t look at him. She bowed her head and stared at the urn in her arms. “Mom,” she said softly. “The man you waited for your whole life… I brought you here. today. Look at him.” She looked up at Silas Crane. “Look at his face. Look at the woman beside him. Look at the life they live.” Silas Crane’s body shook. He held onto his chair, knuckles white. “Professor Crane, you say you came from a remote valley and understand fairness. But do you deserve to talk about fairness?” I stared at him. “Every time you said the name Elowen Hale–didn’t your conscience hurt?” Silas Crane’s back was soaked with sweat. His strength collapsed. His shoulders slumped. He could only repeat one phrase: “It’s slander… slander…” Then. His phone rang. Silas Crane looked down at the screen. His hand shook as he answered–he accidentally put it on speaker. “Professor Crane, this is the Westbrook University Academic Integrity Board. The university has launched a formal investigation into your alleged identity fraud, academic misconduct, and abuse of power to suppress student reports. Please report to the university within 24 hours for questioning.” The call ended. Silas Crane collapsed to the floor. The proud, respected professor of fifty years lost his last shred of dignity. Then he looked up at me. “I… I had no choice back then… it was her. She pressured me with her family’s power…” His trembling hand pointed at Marlow beside him. Marlow screamed: “Silas Crane! Are you crazy? What are you saying? It was all your idea! Nothing to do with me!” “SHUT UP!” Silas Crane spun around, veins popping on his forehead. “If your father hadn’t forced me, I would never have been with you!” “My father? How dare you mention him! You came to me! You said that country woman wasn’t good enough for you!” The two turned on each other. Fifty years of devoted marriage. The dignity of an educator. The grace of an artist. Shattered into pieces in front of the truth. In the end, Silas Crane knelt heavily in front of me. His voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. “I’m sorry.” I stared at him calmly. I lifted the urn and set it in front of him. “The person you should apologize to is not me.” “Because of you, she had no right to be buried even in death. No legal identity. No place to rest.” “Elowen…” He shook as if he would fall apart.
