“Sisterly bond? Please. Riley Walker must be seething with resentment for Cleo,” a commenter posted online.

“Exactly. She’s the rightful heiress. But with Cleo back, is she supposed to just stand aside and smile?”

“Hold up, something’s not adding up,” another user noted.

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Riley seems genuinely upset. Almost panicked.”

Cleo’s voice was light as a feather, a whisper caught in a summer breeze. “Curious about your mom… the housekeeper?”

Riley’s head snapped up, knuckles whitening around the staircase banister. Her eyes became a storm—disbelief, pain, fury—all locked on Cleo. “You saw her? What… what did she say… at the end?”

“The woman who couldn’t look anyone in the eye?” Cleo let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Yes, I saw her before she passed. She was clinging to an old, faded photograph.”

Cleo leaned in, her cloying perfume engulfing Riley, making her instinctively recoil and wrinkle her nose. “She looked so distressed, so I did her a small kindness. I tore it up.”

“What?!” Riley’s whole body trembled, nails biting into the banister as she bit her lip, eyes blazing. “What did you just say?”

“But…” Cleo dragged the word out like a blade, “she did leave you something. Want to know what it is?”

“What is it?!”

Riley lunged, fisting Cleo’s collar, her gaze wild and desperate. Cleo flinched, heart hammering at the sight of the veins bulging in Riley’s arms.

“Let go of me first, or you’ll never find out!”

Rage boiled under Riley’s skin, but she forced her fingers loose. Cleo brushed off her clothes with theatrical disgust.

Then, in a split second, Cleo seized Riley’s wrist, pressing it hard against her own chest. She smiled—a twisted, unhinged grin. “Why not end it all now? You might just reunite with her.”

Instinctively, Riley stepped back. The woman facing her was completely off the rails.

Just then—

“Are you girls still chatting? Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Walker’s voice floated up from the kitchen.

Riley moved to pull away, to leave this madness. But Cleo leaned in again, her lips against Riley’s ear, whispering like poison. “Dinner? You don’t deserve to eat.”

And in an instant, Cleo’s voice rose, dripping with fake terror, “Sister, what are you doing?!”

Feet pounded up the stairs.

Riley’s hand flew back as if burned, while Cleo threw herself backward like a marionette with its strings cut.

“Cleo!” Mrs. Walker’s scream ripped through the air.

Riley froze, her mind scrambling to keep up. Mr. Walker stormed in, and a stinging slap cracked across her face. The coppery taste of blood bloomed in her mouth as silence swallowed everything.

“Riley Walker! Cleo’s just come home, and you’re already pulling this crap?!” Mr. Walker’s roar echoed through the villa.

“Quick, call the doctor!” Mrs. Walker clutched Cleo, her hands shaking. Blood seeped between her fingers as she tried to shift Cleo.

Frantic, Mr. Walker shot Riley an accusing glare while fumbling for his phone.

Riley just stood there, in complete shock, unable to process any of it.

Online, the live chat blew up.

“Wait, didn’t Cleo fall on her own?”

“I caught it on video—she grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled it towards her!”

“Don’t spread rumors! Riley totally pushed her! Look at her, she’s in shock, that’s guilt!”

“Can we review the footage? Something feels seriously off.”

“It all happened so fast. Nobody caught everything clearly…”

In the courtroom, the tension was electric.

The judge brought down the gavel. “Order! The court will now play the defendant’s memory for the time in question.”

As the screen flickered to life, Cleo rushed to the witness stand, her voice shrill. “You can’t show that! It violates privacy!”

Her carefully styled hair was a mess, like a spooked cat, and tears brimmed in her eyes. She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Walker, shaking her head with desperate, pleading shakes. “Dad, Mom, you have to believe me. Riley pushed me. She really did…”

Mrs. Walker instinctively reached out to comfort her, but her hand froze midair. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

“Ha, give Cleo the Best Actress Oscar already,” someone quipped in the comments.

“Unreal, right?”

“We shouldn’t have just listened to her. Looks like we were played from the start.”

Riley’s brother suddenly raced to the judge’s bench, tugging at his shirt collar, his voice raw. “Riley Walker, say something! Now!”

Hearing his desperate plea, Riley turned slowly toward him. The truth was already out; what more was there to say?

The judge struck the gavel again. “After reviewing the memory trial, the charges against Riley Walker for intentionally harming Cleo Walker are hereby dismissed!”

With that gavel crack, Cleo slumped to the floor, completely deflated. Murmurs and pointing fingers rippled through the courtroom.

“Hard to believe someone so young could be this twisted.”

“Yeah, so manipulative. Without that memory playback, Riley would’ve been convicted in everyone’s eyes forever.”

The judge rapped the gavel three more times, and a calm, resonant voice echoed, “We now proceed with the third accusation.”

The courtroom fell deathly silent.

The judge, holding the case file, spoke with weight. “Riley Walker is accused of plagiarizing ‘Rising Phoenix,’ a piece originally by Emily Smith.”

The livestream erupted with orange messages—Emily’s signature support color.

“‘Rising Phoenix’ even made the holiday show. There’s no way there’s an injustice here.”

“The judges loved Riley’s performance, but it was clearly Emily’s concept!”

“I saw that competition live. Emily definitely performed first. Riley must’ve changed her routine backstage.”

“I was there too, I can back that up!”

Emily Smith sat tall at the witness stand, her voice crisp through the mic, “Your Honor, I have footage of Riley secretly filming my rehearsal.”

She shot a glance at Cleo, a knowing smirk curving her lips.

“And if I remember right, Riley even took over my dance studio later that day!”

“Cleo was there too.”

"I object!" Riley Walker stood up, her voice filled with certainty. "This choreography is my original creation. There's no plagiarism here."

The judge nodded to the bailiff, signaling for the memory recall to begin. "Please focus your recollection on the events related to this accusation."

The large screen flickered to life, showing a familiar scene.

Despite the late hour, the dance studio was brightly lit. Riley practiced her routine in front of the mirror, counting softly, "Five, six, seven, eight, turn…"

Her worn ballet shoes were proof of the countless hours she'd put in. So lost in her rehearsal, she didn't notice the two figures reflected in the mirror.

Emily Smith stood at the entrance, arms crossed, a smug expression on her face. "Riley," she said, her voice sharp, "this slot is mine."

Startled, Riley stopped the music, standing there awkwardly, not sure what to say. After a pause, she managed, "But according to the schedule, this time is mine."

The moment the words left her mouth, Riley pressed her lips together. Even though she'd stood her ground, a feeling of unease crept in.

"It was changed," Emily replied casually.

"What do you mean?"

Emily's smirk widened, an eyebrow raised. "Hasn't Cleo told you? I talked to the headmaster earlier, and he agreed to convert this studio into my private rehearsal space."

She waved her phone, showing a selfie of her and Cleo with the headmaster in his office.

Viewers watching the livestream started voicing their doubts.

"Isn't this a major misuse of power?"

"So what if she's buddies with the headmaster's daughter? It's just a dance studio."

"Exactly! If you're so privileged, go get your own studio!"

With no other option, Riley started packing her tote bag, forgetting the digital camera in the corner of the room.

Fast forward to the dance competition two weeks later.

Backstage, Riley adjusted her headpiece in front of the makeup mirror.

Emily's "Rising Phoenix" opened the show, and as the music played, Riley froze. That was the music she'd composed over two long months—how could it be in Emily's performance?

Riley barely remembered sitting through the whole competition.

When the host announced, "Next up is Riley Walker's 'The Butterfly Effect,'" whispers spread through the crowd.

As soon as the music started, the judges exchanged glances.

"Isn't this music identical to Emily's routine?"

"Maybe the music is similar, but the choreography could be different."

But as Riley danced, it became clear—her performance was about 80% the same as Emily's!

Outside the memory projection, Emily slammed the table. "This video is fake! It's been doctored!"

Meanwhile, the judge pulled up the school's system records. "According to the studio booking records, the slot from 8 to 10 p.m. belongs to Riley Walker."

"So what?!" Emily's sharp voice echoed through the courtroom.

The screen shifted to another scene.

It was the school's surveillance footage.

In the empty studio, a figure took the memory card out of the camera.

Cleo's voice came from off-screen, "Hurry up, quit messing around!"

Emily's usually perfect hair was now disheveled, her composure completely unraveling.

She shouted, "This is AI-generated! I never did that!"

That kind of suspicion was expected when gathering evidence.

As Emily made her claim, two spectrograms appeared on the screen.

An expert explained through a microphone, "The voice analysis shows a 99.8% match with Emily Smith's voice."

"This confirms that Emily Smith was directly involved."

"No, that's impossible!"

As Emily struggled to keep it together, the bailiff quickly restrained her.

The judge struck his gavel.

"Order in the courtroom; disruptions will not be tolerated."

"Failure to comply will result in contempt of court!"

The livestream viewers went wild.

"So much for Emily's big act on national TV. Turns out her so-called talent was stolen."

"Quit the industry! Quit the industry!"

"Apologize! Emily, you've been lying to us for so long!"

"I was too quick to judge Riley so harshly."

The gavel's resounding echo silenced the courtroom.

Most thought the live trial was about to wrap up.

But then the prosecution's attorney stood up, waving a set of documents.

He addressed the judge calmly, "Your Honor, the prosecution moves to file an additional charge."

"Riley Walker is accused of repeatedly stealing private property from Cleo Walker, including a blue diamond necklace valued in the millions!"

The comment section on the stream exploded.

"They're stirring up drama again? When's this gonna end?"

"Now they're trying to trash her name?"

"They're hell-bent on ruining Riley Walker!"

"I've had enough of this family—they just won't stop."

A flash of shock crossed Riley Walker's eyes.

"I didn't..."

Sean Walker looked at her pale face and let out a scornful chuckle. "Still pretending? You were caught red-handed with Cleo's necklace. I remember you begging us not to call the police. Did you forget that already?"

"Objection!"

The defense lawyer shot to his feet.

His gaze locked onto Sean Walker, and he said firmly, "Mr. Walker, this courtroom is not a place for personal vendettas!"

The judge raised his hand for silence, then turned to Riley Walker.

"If you undergo another memory trial, it might be too much for your body…"

He paused, looking at her with concern.

"Do you consent to another memory trial?"

She closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek, and took a deep breath. "...I consent."

The screen lit up again.

The memory scene was at a celebration party.

The Walker mansion was ablaze with lights, Cleo Walker in a Victorian-style gown, a blue diamond necklace sparkling around her neck.

Holding a champagne glass, she glided over to where Riley stood, clearly not interested in the festivities.

"Why's my little sister hiding back here?" Cleo showed off the necklace, placing a hand on her neck.

Riley gripped her dress, head down, silent.

Cleo raised her voice, "Oh, I heard you topped the class again? Such a waste…"

Leaning closer, she whispered, "I only ranked tenth, yet Mom and Dad gifted me this entire blue diamond set. And you? No matter how well you do…"

She paused, a cruel smile forming, "You still end up with nothing but longing!"

Riley's gaze collided with Cleo's rebellious stare. Under that blazing look, fury simmered, white-hot and ready to ignite.

Cleo watched Riley stumble back, then smoothed the skirts of her Victorian-style dress with a smirk. "Can't handle a little competition? Well, honey, the show's just getting started..."

Meanwhile, a new scheme was taking shape.

Late that night, Cleo slipped barefoot into Riley's room. She lifted the blue diamond necklace from its velvet box, her lips curling as she tucked it into the bottom drawer.

Just as she was about to creep away, a sliver of light sliced through the doorway.

"What the hell are you doing?" Liam squinted at her, suspicion hardening his eyes.

Cleo froze for a beat, then put on her best innocent mask. "Liam, Riley stole my necklace... I was just sneaking it back. You won't tell Mom and Dad, right? Promise me."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she grabbed his sleeve. "If they throw her out, you're the only family I'll have left..."

Liam shot a nervous glance at the blue diamond in the drawer, unease crawling up his spine. "What if they figure it out? Then what?"

"Maybe we should just come clean?" he mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Cleo's eyes lit up, locking onto his. That was exactly what she'd been waiting for. Her brother hadn't let her down.

The memory faded to pitch black.

The scene flipped to the next morning.

BAM! The door flew open so hard it slammed against the wall. Sean Walker stormed in, and before Riley could even put down her book, he yanked her by the hair and dragged her into the living room.

The blue diamond necklace was pulled from her drawer, and her mother's eyes blazed with pure rage.

She couldn't believe it—Riley had actually stooped to stealing!

Seething, her mother grabbed a vase and hurled it, the porcelain smashing against Riley's arm. "You ungrateful little brat! How dare you steal from Cleo!"

"It wasn't me..." Riley whispered, wincing at the pain, inching backward only to feel Liam blocking her way.

Liam sneered down at her. "Playing the victim again? The necklace was in your room. Or are you still gonna stand there and deny it?"

A hush fell over the courtroom as comments exploded online.

"OMG, Cleo planted the necklace herself!"

"Why is Liam backing her up? He knows the truth!"

"Blood really is thicker than water, huh. Even if Cleo came later, Liam still sides with his 'real' sister."

"This family has zero common sense."

In the courtroom, Cleo lunged toward the screen, shrieking, "Lies! That memory was tampered with!"

"That's not the truth! You've all been played by her!"

The judge stared at Cleo, his voice ice-cold. "Objection overruled."

"The memory trial uses the most advanced technology, Miss Walker. I advise you to keep it together in my courtroom."

Riley's mother gripped the railing, her voice shaking. "Riley... I had no idea about the necklace. Why didn't you just explain?"

"Explain?" A dry laugh escaped Riley's lips.

"When did you ever give me a chance to explain? You threw me in the basement, starved me, and banned me from every single event..."

The memory rolled on.

Riley stood at the door, trembling with panic, pleading so desperately her voice cracked.

But all she heard from the other side was her father's roar.

"Sit in there and think about what you've done! I'm ashamed to call you my daughter!"

"Don't bother showing your face—you're an embarrassment!"

Cleo's syrupy voice dripped through the crack under the door. "Liam, do you think she'll starve to death?"

"Who cares? She's a pain. Sick of her fake act all the time."

Cleo's laugh slithered in.

The livestream erupted again.

"This is straight-up abuse! Childhood trauma 101."

"Oh my God, this family is insane. They just jumped to conclusions without getting the facts!"

"Everyone who dragged Riley owes her a freaking apology!"

The sharp crack of the gavel cut through the chaos, just as Liam shot to his feet in the gallery.

With the whole room staring at him and Riley, a hot wave of anger rolled through him.

If Riley hadn't stirred up all this drama, none of this would be happening.

Now all eyes locked on Liam, waiting to hear what he could possibly say with such damning evidence against him.

Frustrated, he loosened his tie, his eyes swirling with a twisted scorn.

He regretted not letting Riley rot in that basement when he had the chance!

Then he jabbed a finger toward Riley, who looked ready to collapse in the defendant's chair. "Your Honor! I have another accusation to make."

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

And the livestream lit up with chatter.

"Another twist? I'm here for it."

"This is just plot twist after plot twist. How is this even gonna end?"

"One of these accusations has to be true, right?"

Amid the noise, Liam waved his phone with a smug grin, fixing Riley with a dead-serious stare.

"This woman even went after my friend!"

He whipped out a stack of photos and slapped them onto the table.

In the picture, Riley was on the beach next to Hudson Greene, the image blurry from a distance.

"She seduced Hudson, playing Miss Innocent while reeling in men with that face!"

Instantly, those photos were broadcast to every viewer watching the live feed.

This looked like irrefutable proof!

Online, Riley's supporters flipped on her in a heartbeat.

"Wow! Pictures don't lie—these can't be faked."

"No wonder the family can't stand her. She's a homewrecker at heart!"

"All that sweet act before, and now it turns out she's been sleeping her way around!"

"I was starting to feel bad for her, but I guess I was way too naive."

As the flood of insults poured in, Riley's pale fingers clutched the edge of the table.

Every ugly word felt like a knife to the chest, the whole world ready to convict her without a single chance to defend herself.

She lowered her eyes, catching the blurry outline of Hudson's profile in the photo, and suddenly, a wave of memories crashed over her.

"So hungry... so damn hungry..."

The basement air was thick with must and decay. Riley curled into a ball in the corner, desperately rifling through the drawers.

Three whole days had passed.

Apart from water, she hadn't eaten a thing.

Her stomach cramped, a gnawing ache that made cold sweat bead on her forehead.

In the faint light seeping through the skylight, she groped blindly around the basement.

She knew there was nothing edible down there—knew it—but she had no choice. Her mind was fading, and she had to find something. Anything.