My Sister Framed Me on Livestream, Then My Brother Disowned Me

On the day of the grand homecoming gala for Emily Spencer—the biological daughter of my adoptive parents—I was hiding in the lounge, scrolling through my phone, when I stumbled upon her livestream. Emily was on camera, her eyes swollen from crying and her lips bruised and battered. She was sobbing to her audience, claiming she was a victim of relentless bullying. The comment section exploded in a frenzy of righteous indignation. "This person is pure evil! Not only did she steal someone else's life, but she's a bully, too? She deserves to rot!" "I feel so sick for her parents. They literally raised a cold-blooded snake." "Just look at that girl's face. You can tell she's a total b***h just by looking at her!" Emily choked back a sob, her voice trembling. "She told me I wasn't allowed to come home. She said if she ever caught me here, she'd beat me again." I scrolled down to see the "bully" photos Emily had posted. My heart stopped. The person she was accusing was me. But I was the one she had been tormenting! It was the exact opposite! On the screen, Emily pushed up her sleeves to reveal horrific bruises. The camera zoomed in for a tight close-up, making the purple marks stand out vividly under the professional lighting. "All of this... Scarlett did this to me!" she wailed. "Just because I couldn't stand by and watch her pick on other students..." The chat went into overdrive. "Wait, is this for real? She looks so innocent in her pictures." "That's how these bullies work! They act like little angels in public and turn into monsters behind closed doors!" "Poor Emily... I can't believe she was tortured by that fake daughter for so long." I stared at the scrolling insults, my throat tightening until it felt like I couldn't breathe. Today was the Spencer family's big night to welcome their "real" daughter home. I had played the part of the dutiful, discarded child, staying out of sight in the lounge to avoid causing a scene. I never expected to become the unwilling star of a digital witch hunt. Suddenly, a deep, familiar male voice drifted from off-camera. "Emily, don't be afraid. I'm right here." The camera panned to reveal my adoptive brother, Rowell Spencer. His face, usually an icy mask of indifference, was softened by a rare look of agonized heartbreak. He reached out, patting Emily's shoulder, his voice low but devastatingly clear. "I can testify to this. The injuries on Emily's body are definitely Scarlett's doing." The chat paused for a split second before erupting into a vertical blur of text. "Holy s**t! That's Rowell! The legendary, cold-hearted heir of the Spencer family!" "If he's testifying in person, then it's 100% true!" "Even Rowell is siding with Emily! Scarlett is officially finished!" "Total confirmation! Even her own 'brother' is throwing her under the bus!" "Rowell is famous for being a stone-cold statue. For him to actually speak up? Scarlett must be a literal demon." I froze, staring at Rowell's face in total disbelief. Rowell. My brother. The man who once stayed by my bedside all night when I had a fever, holding my hand until the sun came up. Now, he was standing next to Emily, helping her craft a web of lies to destroy me. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed Rowell's number. It rang three times before he picked up. His voice was like shards of ice. "You actually have the nerve to call me?" "Rowell, listen to me..." My throat felt like it was filled with glass, and I fought to keep from sobbing. "The livestream... It's not what it looks like. You're my brother. You have to believe me. Emily is..." "Scarlett, I am not your brother," he snapped, cutting me off with a tone of pure, unadulterated disgust. "How much longer are you going to keep lying through your teeth?" I gasped, feeling as though an invisible hand had reached into my chest and crushed my heart. "But those bruises..." He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Emily showed me all the evidence. Are you seriously going to keep playing the innocent victim?" "Evidence?" I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white. "What evidence? She did those to herself! She—" "Enough!" he roared, his voice trembling with a fury I had never heard before. "You bullied her, you tortured her, and now you're trying to frame her? Scarlett, I am truly disgusted that I ever knew you." "Rowell, please!" I finally broke, my voice dissolving into tears. "Just believe me once. Just this once!" "Believe you?" He let out a final, cruel scoff. "From this moment on, I am no longer your brother. You don't deserve the title." The line went dead. When I tried to call back, all I heard was the hollow, rhythmic drone of a busy signal. He had blocked me.