Josh Moore hurried up to the stage with a flash drive in hand and plugged it into the computer.

The massive screen in the ballroom flickered to life.

The first image was a close-up of an old, faded photograph.

Five-year-old Louise had a distinct pink birthmark on the inside of her arm. I walked up to the woman on stage, grabbed her wrist, and turned her arm over, exposing smooth, unmarked skin.

"Where's your birthmark, Louise?"

Her expression darkened, but she didn't panic. She shook me off with clear irritation, then gave a subtle signal to a nearby server, who quickly brought her handbag over.

She calmly pulled out a document, unfolded it, and held it up for everyone to see.

Her voice carried just the right hint of lingering fear, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"When I was 15, not long after I arrived in Winderton to study abroad, I was in a serious car accident. My arm was badly injured. That was when the birthmark was destroyed. These are my medical records from back then, along with my annual follow-up reports. You're all welcome to take a look."

The server uploaded the documents onto the big screen.

Winston studied the detailed records in silence, then quietly pulled out a clean handkerchief and held it out to her.

Not bad.

She barely held her ground in the first round.

I tilted my chin and signaled my assistant to show the next image.

It was a postcard Louise had sent Winston last year, with a short message written on the back.

"I'm assuming you haven't forgotten your own handwriting in just one year. Go ahead and write it again. Let's compare."

Josh stepped forward at the right moment, handing her a pen and paper.

Louise took a slow breath. Her hand hovered for a second before she started writing.

A moment later, Josh projected the new sample onto the screen.

The two samples matched almost perfectly. The pressure of each stroke, the spacing, and the structure were nearly identical.

Winston stared at the handwriting, then stumbled forward a couple of steps. His eyes lit up with disbelief and relief, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Louise… It really is you…"

Louise caught every bit of his reaction, and her confidence settled in instantly. She turned to me with her chin lifted, her tone smug and sharp.

"Sam, you see that? Even Winston recognized me. What else do you have to say? Don't tell me that's all the evidence you have!"

Everyone in the ballroom leaned in, waiting for my next move.

But I didn't move at all. I just stood there, watching her.

She took my silence as surrender and raised her voice.

"Fine. If you can't come up with anything real, then let's look at my evidence!"

She yanked another document from her bag and practically threw it at Josh.

"Put this on the screen. Make sure everyone sees it clearly. All his accusations are nothing but guesses, but what I have is real, scientific proof!"

Josh glanced at me. I gave a small nod.

The screen lit up again.

It was a paternity test report.

Every eye in the room locked onto it. The key conclusion was underlined:

[The tested father, Randolph Anderson, and the tested child, Louise Anderson, are confirmed to be biologically related.]

"See that? Before I even met you, I knew you were up to something. I visited Dad at the hospital and had a DNA test done while I was there. It's right there in black and white. I'm his daughter. You're saying I'm not Louise? Then who is? You?"

Her voice rang through the ballroom.

At this point, it looked like a dead end.

Winston rushed forward, grabbed the original report, and flipped through it quickly. When he looked up again, his eyes were full of guilt and concern.

"Louise, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you go through this."

He pulled her behind him protectively, then threw the report down at my feet.

"Sam, I must've been blind. I actually called someone like you my friend for ten years. I won't let you smear Louise again."

He took a deep breath, his gaze turning cold and distant.

"From today on, we're done. If you come after Louise again, I'll make sure you regret it!"

With Winston taking her side, the guests were completely convinced. Their whispers spread through the room like venom.

"The paternity test is out. Sam's got nothing now. What kind of person frames his own sister like that?"

"Didn't she say it? Something's wrong with him. No wonder he used to cling to Winston all the time. That's just messed up."

"Seriously, trying to steal his sister's fiancé? That's low. And he thinks he deserves to run the Andersons?"

Louise saw that I had completely lost the room. There wasn't a trace of tension left on her face. She smiled at me, cruel and almost playful.

"Sam, aren't you going to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness? Don't worry, I know the family rules. The business passes to sons, not daughters. If I'm happy with your begging, I might feel generous and reconsider kicking you out of Anderson Corporation."

The entire ballroom fell silent. Everyone was waiting to watch me break.

But I didn't even acknowledge her. I didn't bother looking at Winston, either.

I simply raised a hand toward Josh.

"Do you know why I knew you were a complete fake the moment I saw you?"

I let the question hang in the air.

Slowly, I reached into my suit jacket and pulled out a thin card.

At the same time, a new image appeared on the screen. It was a government-issued ID, with key details partially blurred.

On the left side was my photo.

But on the right, the information hit like a bomb.

[Name: Louise Anderson

[Gender: Female]

A wave of shocked gasps swept through the ballroom.

My gaze moved across the stunned faces, one by one, before settling on the terrified imposter.

I looked at her, a faint edge of mockery in my voice.

"You got it wrong from the start. I don't have a sister recovering somewhere overseas. I AM Louise Anderson."