I stood frozen in place as the video played on the massive screen, the evidence undeniable for all to see. Fiona's voice rang out crystal clear through the speakers, instructing two maids exactly how to project the compromising photos during my birthday celebration.
"Make sure everyone sees them," her recorded voice commanded. "I want that bastard sister of mine completely humiliated."
The color drained from Fiona's face as she watched herself being exposed. Her usual composed demeanor crumbled, replaced by naked panic. The ballroom fell so silent I could hear the ice clinking in someone's glass across the room.
Arthur stood beside me, his presence solid and unwavering. His hand rested lightly at the small of my back—a gesture that had quickly become both familiar and comforting.
"As you can see," Arthur addressed the stunned crowd, his voice controlled yet powerful, "the evidence is quite clear. Miss Dubois orchestrated this entire scheme."
