I Exposed My Stepsister’s Stolen Elite University Life Chapter 02

I Exposed My Stepsister’s Stolen Elite University Life Chapter 02

The livestream went dead silent for three seconds before the audience erupted online.

The control room must have panicked, because the feed abruptly cut to a commercial. Even so, I could imagine the live chat racing across the screen.

Madison’s face drained of colour, and she even forgot to keep the fake tears flowing.

The host stared at me in shock and stammered, “N-Nora, what are you…?”

“Telling the truth.” I shoved the plaque into his arms. “Please pass it on to our celebrated solicitor.”

Without looking at anyone else, I turned and walked off the stage.

Backstage was in complete disarray. Staff rushed in every direction while phones rang nonstop.

A middle-aged man who appeared to be the program’s producer blocked my path, his expression livid.

“This is outrageous! Do you have any idea how much money you’ve just cost this program?”

I looked at him calmly. “Wasn’t the whole reason you invited me to generate buzz?”

That left him momentarily speechless. His fingers shook with rage.

“You’ll be hearing from our lawyers!”

I ignored him and walked straight out of the television studio.

Night had already fallen. The city’s neon lights flickered like cold, watchful eyes.

My phone vibrated furiously. Mum was calling.

I answered.

“Nora! Have you lost your mind? Why would you do this to Madison?” she shrieked from the other end of the line.

“She’s a high-profile solicitor now. You’re going to destroy her entire career!”

My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white.

“Mum, her career was built on what she stole from me.”

“What do you mean, stole? We’re family. Why do you have to draw such a hard line between us? Now that she’s successful, do you really think she won’t help you?”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “How exactly is she supposed to help me? By putting me on national television and making me admit I remembered everything wrong and was only jealous of her?”

“You’re just a delivery rider. What kind of future do you think you have? Madison can get you a respectable job and give you some money. Isn’t that better than the life you have now?”

“So ten years of my life are worth nothing more than a job and a payout?”

“What else do you expect?” Impatience filled her voice. “It happened ten years ago. Madison is a public figure now. Don’t be so ungrateful!”

I drew a slow breath, and the noise of the city seemed to fade into the distance.

“Mum, do you know what the last ten years have been like? I’ve ridden more than a hundred kilometres a day, through wind and rain, delivering food.”

“I’ve watched the wholesale produce market come alive at four in the morning and office towers stay lit long past midnight.”

“I’ve come off my bike, been chased by dogs, and had customers scream abuse in my face.”

“But I never thought of any of it as suffering.”

“I kept telling myself it was temporary. One day, I would get back everything that belonged to me.”

“But what you just said hurt more than everything I endured over those ten years combined.”

The other end of the line fell silent.

I did not give her a chance to respond. I ended the call.

When I returned to the run-down block of flats on the outskirts where I rented a room, I checked my phone and was immediately flooded with messages and missed calls.

There were missed calls from Mike, the dispatch supervisor at the delivery depot, messages from coworkers, and abusive texts from countless unknown numbers.

#CelebritySolicitorHumiliatedByOlderSister#

#DeliveryRiderJealousOfSuccessfulSister#

Both hashtags were already trending on X.

I opened one of the links. It showed a screenshot of me on the program beside a photograph of me in my delivery jacket.

The comments underneath were vicious.

[You can tell she’s trouble just by looking at her. Every glance is calculating.]

[This is what jealousy does to people at the bottom. She’s miserable, so she wants to drag everyone else down with her.]

[Stand with Ms. Whitaker! She should sue this woman into bankruptcy!]

My phone number and home address had been posted online. Someone had even found the cemetery where my father was buried.

Someone had spray-painted “YOU’RE EVIL—GET OUT” across my front door.

Mike called again, sounding deeply uncomfortable.

“Nora, about everything that’s happening… the complaints line hasn’t stopped ringing. A lot of customers are saying they’ll delete the app if we let you deliver to them again.”

“I understand, Mike.” My voice was hoarse. “I quit.”

“Don’t blame me. I don’t have much choice here.”

After the call ended, I sat in the darkness for a long time with my knees pulled against my chest.

Ten years ago, they had taken my future.

Now they wanted to take away what little I had left.

It felt as though my entire world held nothing but endless darkness and malice.