He Mistook My Sister For Me On Meetup Day Chapter 08

He Mistook My Sister For Me On Meetup Day Chapter 08

Three days later, Iris put out a statement.

She said she’d registered the account herself, that she’d provided all the emotional experiences, and that I’d

simply helped with the writing because I was good with words.

She also wrote:

[My sister has always been jealous of me.]

[This time, because Evan chose me, she suddenly changed her story and claimed the account we both

worked on as her own.]

My parents shared the post.

My mother sent me dozens of voice messages.

“Lena, are you trying to push your sister over the edge?”

“She was just starting to feel good about herself, and you threw her into the spotlight.”

“Just admit you were ghostwriting, and this all goes away.”

I didn’t reply to a single one.

Josie laid the compiled documents in front of me.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Your parents are going to get dragged into it.”

I looked at her.

“They stepped in first.”

The publisher and the letter platform held a joint online briefing.

The first piece of evidence was the account registration record.

Real-name verification: Lena Tate.

Linked email: Lena Tate.

The original file for the very first letter, sent seven years ago-still created by Lena Tate.

The second piece of evidence was the creation timeline for all eighty-four letters.

Every single document had revision history.

The chats, voice notes, and drafts Iris claimed to have provided as “emotional material”? None of them

existed.

The third piece of evidence was my copyright registration, filed before the proposal ever happened.

Back then, I had no idea the scheduled email would ever go public. There was no “revenge after losing him.”

On the livestream, Iris cried, “My sister knows everything about me. Of course she can write it all-she’s

family.”

For the first time, I responded publicly.

“Letter three was about the time I was twelve and Mom locked me out of the house because I wouldn’t give you my birthday present.”

“Letter nineteen was about Dad tearing up my acceptance letter because you didn’t get into the same

school.”

“Letter forty-two was about the night you had surgery. Mom was with you. Dad was with you. I was alone in the ER getting stitches.”

“Were those your experiences too?”

Iris’s crying stopped.

Off-camera, my mother’s voice shrieked, “Why are you airing all our dirty laundry?”

I laughed.

“So you know it’s dirty.”

Evan followed up by releasing the airport footage.

He didn’t defend himself.

He only said:

“I’m one of the people who hurt Lena Tate.”

“When she tried to tell me who she was, I shut her down because of my own bias.”

“Iris wasn’t an innocent bystander, and the Tates weren’t in the dark.”

Public opinion flipped completely.

The publisher revoked Iris’s contract under the Tidecaller name and demanded the advance back.

The exhibition partners demanded compensation from the Tates for unauthorized use of the letters.

Iris showed up in Claremont.

She stood outside my studio, hair a mess.

“You win.”

“Evan doesn’t want me. The book deal is dead. Everyone’s calling me names.”

“Are you happy now?”

I kept organizing the manuscripts on my desk.

She grabbed my arm.

“Is that what this is about? You want me to give Evan back to you? You’re clearly still in love with him-that’s why you had to prove you were Tidecaller.”

I looked up at her.

“Iris. Proving who I am was never about getting a man to choose me again.”

“And he was never the only thing you stole.”

I pulled my hand back.

“What I want back is my name.”