The slap echoed from the tablet speaker.

Nobody moved.

Alexander stared at the screen as Camila grabbed my chin, whispered something into my face, and struck me hard enough to knock me onto the carpet.

Then came the part that changed his expression completely.

On the recording, I tried to cry.

Camila covered my mouth.

“Be quiet. If you’re smart, get out of this house. Alexander is mine. You are nobody.”

Alexander paused the video.

The room became painfully silent.

Camila stood up quickly.

—Alexander, listen to me. I was angry. I misunderstood everything.

My brother slowly raised his eyes.

—You misunderstood a three-year-old?

Before she could answer, footsteps came from the hallway.

My parents had heard the commotion.

My father entered first.

My mother followed him.

Grandfather came behind them with his cane.

Mom immediately noticed my swollen cheek.

—Nina?

She rushed toward me, but Alexander quietly handed her the tablet.

—Watch.

She did.

The color disappeared from her face.

Dad watched over her shoulder.

His jaw tightened when Camila slapped me.

Grandfather said nothing until the recording ended.

Then he looked at Alexander.

—Who brought this woman into my house?

Alexander lowered his head.

—I did.

Grandfather nodded once.

—Then remove her.

Camila finally panicked.

—Mr. Moore, please! I didn’t know Nina was really his sister!

That sentence made everyone stop.

My father turned around.

—Really his sister?

Camila realized her mistake too late.

She began explaining quickly.

—I saw things online. People said the Moore family hadn’t had a daughter for generations. I thought she was some child staying here because Alexander was attached to her.

Mom stared at her in disbelief.

—So you thought attacking someone else’s child would be acceptable?

—I didn’t mean—

Alexander stepped between them.

—Enough.

His voice was quiet.

That somehow made it worse.

Camila reached for his arm.

He moved away before she could touch him.

—Alexander, we’ve been together for almost a year. You’re throwing everything away because of one mistake?

He looked at her for several seconds.

—No.

He pointed toward the frozen image on the tablet.

—I’m ending this because that’s who you become when you think nobody important is watching.

Camila started crying.

Alexander didn’t react.

He lifted me carefully into his arms.

My face rested against his shoulder.

—Mr. Carter, pack everything she brought here.

The butler nodded.

—Immediately, young master.

—And make sure she never enters this property again.

Camila stared at him.

—You’ll regret this.

Alexander stopped walking.

For the first time, Grandfather smiled.

Not warmly.

—Young woman, I suggest you leave before you discover which person in this room you should actually be afraid of disappointing.

Camila left twenty minutes later.

Alexander took me to the hospital himself.

The doctor said I would be fine.

But my brother didn’t seem relieved.

He sat beside my bed holding my tiny hand as though letting go would make me disappear.

—Does it still hurt?

I nodded.

His eyes immediately turned red.

I whispered:

—Brother, don’t cry.

He looked away.

—I’m not crying.

—You are.

That made Mom laugh softly through her own tears.

I reached up and touched Alexander’s cheek.

—I’m okay.

He kissed my forehead.

—I know.

But his voice broke.

That should have been the end.

It wasn’t.

The next morning, Dad received a call during breakfast.

I was sitting beside Alexander eating strawberries when Dad suddenly stopped speaking.

His expression changed.

—Send me everything.

He hung up.

Grandfather lowered his newspaper.

—What happened?

Dad opened his laptop.

—Our attorney investigated Camila Stone.

Alexander frowned.

—Why?

Dad turned the screen around.

—Because something she said yesterday bothered me.

A photograph appeared.

It had been taken almost six months before Camila supposedly met Alexander.

Camila was sitting inside a private restaurant.

Across from her was an older man wearing a dark suit.

Alexander leaned closer.

—I don’t know him.

Dad didn’t answer.

Grandfather did.

His hand tightened around his cane.

—I do.

Everyone looked at him.

For several seconds, he simply stared at the photograph.

Then he said a name I had never heard before.

—Richard Vale.

My father’s face hardened.

Alexander looked between them.

—Who is Richard Vale?

Grandfather closed the laptop.

—Someone who tried to destroy this family twenty years ago.

Nobody spoke.

Then Dad revealed something even worse.

According to the investigator, Camila had met Richard repeatedly before approaching Alexander.

Restaurants.

Hotels.

Private clubs.

Always discreetly.

Always before she supposedly “accidentally” met my brother at a charity event.

Alexander’s expression slowly changed.

—She targeted me.

Dad nodded.

—That’s what it looks like.

—Why?

Grandfather stood.

—That’s what we’re going to find out.

At that exact moment, Mr. Carter entered the dining room carrying a small black box.

—Sir, we found this inside Miss Stone’s belongings after she left.

Alexander opened it.

Inside was a tiny electronic device.

Dad examined it.

His face immediately darkened.

It wasn’t jewelry.

It wasn’t a charger.

It was a recording device.

And according to Mr. Carter, it had been hidden for months in the room where my father and grandfather held private business meetings.

Alexander went completely still.

Then his phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

One message.

He opened it.

There were only eight words.

“Your sister was never supposed to be involved.”

Below the message was a photograph.

A photograph of me.

Taken from outside my bedroom window.

Alexander’s hand tightened around the phone.

Grandfather looked at the image once and immediately turned toward security.

—Lock every gate.

My father stood.

—Nobody leaves the estate.

But Alexander wasn’t looking at them.

He was staring at the timestamp beneath the photograph.

Because it hadn’t been taken yesterday.

It had been taken three minutes ago.