I Exposed My Stepsister’s Stolen Elite University Life Chapter 07

I Exposed My Stepsister’s Stolen Elite University Life Chapter 07

As Curtis spoke his final word, it felt as though a bomb had detonated inside the studio.

The room fell utterly silent.

The control room must have been too stunned to cut the feed.

Viewers across the country watched Madison’s face lose every trace of colour on live television.

Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but no words came out.

The woman who had once been razor-sharp in court and convincingly vulnerable on camera now had nothing but terror and despair in her eyes.

“No… that isn’t…”

She finally forced out the words, her voice as shrill as nails scraping against glass.

“It’s fake! That video was fabricated! She’s trying to frame me!”

Madison shot to her feet and pointed at me, looking almost deranged.

“It was you! You hired someone to fake all of this! You’re trying to destroy me!”

The host finally reacted. He grabbed his microphone, his face equally pale.

“Cut to a commercial! Now!”

But it was already too late.

I rose and walked over to Madison.

After ten years, this was the first time I had been able to stand before her so calmly and look down at her.

“Madison, aren’t you the one who always insists on evidence?”

I reached into my pocket and removed two items.

The first was my yellowed HSC candidate identification card, bearing a photograph of my eighteen-year-old self.

The second was a printout showing my student number, name, HSC marks, and ATAR. Every detail matched the academic record in Mr. Grant’s video.

I slapped them down on the table.

“This is my HSC exam ID. These are my results. The witness testimony and the records are all right here.”

“How are you going to explain this away now?”

Madison swayed and nearly lost her balance.

She looked from the evidence on the table to me, and the frantic denial in her eyes crumbled into utter despair.

“No…”

She muttered the word as she backed away, step by step, until she struck the sofa and collapsed onto it in a heap.

The studio’s security guards and staff finally rushed forward, trying to bring the situation under control.

Camera flashes erupted across the room. Reporters closed in like sharks scenting blood, thrusting microphones and cameras toward us.

Amid the chaos, I saw Diane and several relatives charge out of the audience.

“What are you doing? Why are you grabbing my daughter?”

Diane clawed at the security guards’ clothing, screaming wildly.

“The video is fake! That little bitch fabricated all of it because she’s jealous of my daughter!”

I looked at her coldly.

“Mum, Curtis has already given the police the bank records showing the transfer you made to him.”

“Fifty thousand dollars. Every last cent.”

Diane’s screaming stopped abruptly.

All the colour drained from her face, leaving her with the same expression as Madison.

At that moment, I almost found it funny.

Even in despair, the mother and daughter looked exactly alike.