"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.

Finally, she clutched a box of stale cookies tight. Riley Walker devoured the crumbs, the sour, stale taste exploding in her mouth. "I can't stay here," she muttered under her breath. Staying would be her downfall. Riley scanned the area, searching for anything that could help her get to the window.

Breathing heavily, she shoved a wooden crate beneath the window. Wobbling, she climbed on top and reached up to shake the rusty iron bars. With a sharp crack, the brittle bars snapped, and a rush of cold air hit her face. Instinctively, Riley squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the pain she was sure would follow.

But instead of slamming into the ground, she fell into a warm embrace. Was this it? The end? Confused, Riley's eyes fluttered open to find a familiar face staring down at her. "Hudson?" she gasped.

Hudson Greene's jaw was clenched, his eyes dark behind his glasses. His arms trembled from the impact, but he held her steady. Cradled against him, Riley could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat.

Before she could speak, Hudson lowered her onto a soft patch of grass nearby. "Here, have some coffee," he said, unscrewing a thermos and guiding it to her lips. Starving and not caring about manners, Riley grabbed the thermos, tilting her head back to gulp down the warm drink. As the liquid soothed her throat, tears welled up in her eyes.

She choked a little, and Hudson quickly reached out, gently patting her back. "Easy there," he murmured, then pulled two lunch boxes from his backpack and set them in front of her. "I brought these just for you."

Once Riley had composed herself, Hudson spoke again. "Let me take you back to your room."

"No..." she breathed, struggling to her feet, her eyes pleading. "If my father finds out, it'll get you tangled up in this mess."

"Then come with me," he insisted, his grip on her wrist tight—almost painful. "Riley, do you want to stay here and die?"

Half an hour later, Hudson pulled over, his body rigid. "Riley, I'm helping you because I can't stand to watch them push you around."

...

"Requesting to open the memory trial." The judge's voice sliced through the murmurs. Hudson finally looked up, his gaze colliding with Riley's as the memory of that summer by the seaside three years ago flooded back, his unspoken words still hanging in the air.

The screen flickered to life. In the damp basement, Riley stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering when it would all end. Once the edge of her hunger had dulled, she turned to meet Hudson's eyes, the emotion in her own impossible to hide.

"He's such a player," someone commented online. "I need eye bleach. How can Hudson be so full of himself?"

"Hudson's been good to Riley from the jump," another chimed in. "If someone helped me out of a mess like that, I'd be touched."

"Exactly, Hudson totally broke the bro code," someone joked.

Hudson shot to his feet, his face pale, storming toward the witness stand. "Enough!" he shouted, grabbing the microphone so hard his knuckles went white. "Riley has only ever been a burden to me! The one I truly care about is Cleo!"

Riley's half-sister, Cleo, let out a gasp that quickly twisted into a sneer—an all-too-familiar expression crossing her face as Riley's mind drifted back to that summer day.

Back then, Cleo had the same look. She hadn't realized it at the time, but now it was clear Cleo had been rubbing it in her face—

"Is the dance club president election list finalized?" The music teacher's voice drifted from the office. Riley stood in the doorway, clutching her application, too nervous to knock. Her fingers traced the words "President Application" over and over.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps echoed. The door swung open, and Riley found herself face-to-face with Cleo's mocking eyes. She quickly tucked her hand behind her back. The dance teacher, who had always looked down on Riley, frowned the moment she saw her.

Cleo noticed Riley too, her lips curling into a smirk. "What's my sister doing here, sneaking around like a thief?" she asked, her tone dripping with fake innocence.

The dance teacher shot Riley a look of disdain, scoffing. "Who knows? C'mon, Cleo, let's head to the dance studio for the competition."

"Sure!" Cleo said, snatching Riley's application and bursting out laughing. Her laugh made the teacher stop mid-step and glance back.

"Cleo, what's wrong?" the teacher asked.

"My sister wants to be the dance club president," Cleo declared, handing over the crumpled application.

The teacher's frown deepened as she took it, the disdain she felt for Riley written all over her face. Cleo savored Riley's humiliation, barely containing her glee. "This is my sister's dream—maybe give her a chance?" she suggested.

"Cleo, you know the dance club's reputation in this school," the teacher replied. "The presidency isn't just for anyone."

Her icy stare landed on Riley. "Besides, if you can't even keep time, you can't be a lead dancer."

Riley hung her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, and reached for her application. The teacher's tone was flat. "There's an open election next month. If you get two-thirds of the club's votes, you can be president."

In that moment, Riley felt a flicker of hope. Cleo walked ahead with the teacher but then asked, "Are you really considering Riley for president?"

"Cleo, you're my star student. Naturally, I want you to be president. But the school requires an election. Do you really think she's better than you?"

...

The dance studio was dimly lit that night. Riley raised her trembling right leg in front of the mirror, the piano track from her earbuds filling her ears. She wobbled off balance on that step again.