I handed my daughter to the nurse who'd followed us in, then pulled out my phone and opened a livestream.
I turned toward Ruth and bowed deeply from the waist.
"Miss Sanchez, I'm sorry. For all the false accusations circulating online, I offer my sincerest apology. You're not a scheming little sister who drove a wedge between husband and wife. I'm the vicious one—absurdly jealous of a normal sibling relationship, deliberately divorcing your brother, posting sob stories online for sympathy, even paying trolls to attack you."
I bowed again.
"Miss Sanchez, you and Mr. Sanchez have always been completely innocent. Just an ordinary brother and sister. I was the one eaten alive by jealousy, using underhanded tactics to frame you. Please forgive me."
Every word rang out, crisp and unmistakable.
With each sentence, the color drained further from both their faces.
Ruth—because I had just nailed them permanently to the cross of sibling relations for all the world to see.
Cyril's expression was harder to read. Something flickered in his eyes—a flash of unease he couldn't quite suppress.
Ruth shot me a look of pure hatred.
Then, suddenly, she clutched at her hair, her voice trembling like a leaf in a gale.
"I'm not a bad woman—I'm not! It was her who cheated! She's the one who made a cuckold of my brother! She didn't cherish him, so I will! If loving him makes me shameless and disgusting, then just let me die—"
Her sudden breakdown shattered whatever composure Cyril had barely managed to regain.
He pulled her into his arms. "Ruth, we're not blood siblings. We were actually engaged as children—a promise between our families. Even if you do have feelings for me... you've done nothing wrong."
The moment those words left his mouth, the livestream chat exploded with roses.
Rows upon rows of "99" flooded the screen.
The glare of it seared my eyes.
A swarm of reporters burst through the door, cameras thrust in my face, shutters clicking in a deafening frenzy.
"Mrs. Sanchez! So you're the homewrecker in this story?"
"Mrs. Sanchez! You were a nobody before this marriage. Care to share what tactics you used to claw your way into the Sanchez family?"
"Breaking up a golden couple just to marry rich—don't you feel any guilt?"
Camera flashes strobed across my face like an assault.
They were practically branding me—homewrecker, slut, gold-digger—searing every slur into my skin with their accusations.