CHAPTER 52: IDENTICAL EXPRESSIONS

She leaned forward, her tone casual, and her expression completely at ease, she contrasted sharply with the rest of the family’s tense, uncertain looks. "Actually, I know a better way."

Selena turned to her, her eyes narrowing as she snapped, "Shut up, Erisia! You have no right to talk here, do you understand?!"

Erisia’s gaze shifted to meet Selena’s glare, steady and unflinching. "And I never spoke to you just now, did I?" she said coolly, before returning to David. "Father, what do you say? Shall I speak or not? Because apparently, some people think I have no right to."

David’s eyes softened, and he gave Selena—who looked almost ready to explode—a pointed glance. "You can say whatever you want here. You have every right to do and say anything, as everyone else in this room, because you are part of this family." He gestured slightly toward Erisia. "So, what suggestion do you have?"

Erisia’s lips curved into a smile, slowly widening as she placed her hands deliberately on the table and rose to her feet. She reached into her sweatpants pocket, pulling out the drive. "Here," she said, her voice steady, and walked out of the dining room.

Selena stiffened, unwilling to look but unable to look away. Most of all, Sierra felt a cold dread coil in her stomach the instant she saw the drive.

The rest were confused, but even so, David stood up and walked out. Shane followed him, and lastly, Leander did as well—though he stopped when he realized his mother and Sierra weren’t moving.

He turned his head back, frowning. "Mom, Sierra? Aren’t you coming?"

Selena looked at him, hesitation flashing across her eyes before she forced out, "Yes. We’re coming now."

"Alright." Leander nodded and walked out of the room, leaving both mother and daughter drowning in a tide of conflicting emotions.

"M–mom...!" Sierra stammered, hastily stepping toward Selena, pressing herself close as she whispered, trying to hide her panic. "Mom, what do you think Erisia wants to do? What could be in that drive—"

"It’s okay. Whatever she has against you is definitely fake, so don’t worry. No one will believe her—I will make sure of that." Selena hugged Sierra close, her voice low but resolute. "My daughter is beautiful and has a good heart. She’s the best. Aren’t you?"

"Mhm." Sierra nodded quickly, trying hard to tamp down the bad feeling clawing at her chest—especially now that she didn’t know exactly what Erisia was showing them.

"Mom, let’s go and see what they’re doing..."

"Okay, let’s go."

With that, they both strode out of the dining room, across the hallway toward the living room. When they finally stepped inside, they saw Erisia standing before the touchscreen television. She tapped on it one last time before pulling her hand away and stepping back.

With furrowed brows, David had been watching her ever since she plugged the drive in. He already had an idea of what she was doing, but he wanted confirmation. "Erisia—"

He was cut off when Erisia began speaking, her voice calm and unhurried. "Inside the drive I plugged into the TV is everything you didn’t know—but will soon find out—about your adopted daughter, Sierra."

The dread coiled tighter around Sierra’s heart as Erisia spoke, and it only grew heavier as Erisia tapped play on the screen.

A recording crackled to life.

"Hey, Delisse." Sierra’s voice came from the TV speakers, clear and unmistakable.

"Hey, Sierra! What happened? Why does your voice sound so down?" Delisse’s tone followed, casual and relaxed. She was one of Sierra’s so-called friends who had insulted Erisia at the pool party.

"Why?" A short, mocking laugh—so unlike Sierra’s usual gentle act—burst out. "Why? Seriously?"

"Yeah, what? How would I know if I don’t ask? Right, is this about your sister that was brought back home?"

"She is not my sister." Sierra’s voice was hard, filled with open disdain. Anyone listening could hear it clearly, and Delisse must have caught it too, because her tone shifted.

"Right... your adopted sister. I heard they found her in some backward slum or something, right?"

"Yeah. I just wish she’d never come back. Tell me, why didn’t she just rot there?" Everyone in the room stiffened, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief, while Sierra’s face drained of all color. Her throat tightened painfully as her own voice betrayed her.

"How would I know?" Delisse chuckled lightly. "Oh, Sierra, I wonder what your family would say if they heard this. They’d be so shocked that the gentle and docile girl since childhood was nothing but an act—"

"Shut the fuck up, Delisse. You should know by now what the hell you should and shouldn’t say. I’m sure you don’t want to lose your chance at being the first to get your hands on that stripper guy. Continue this, and you can forget about it completely."

"Oh, Sierra. My darling. It’s all my fault, I’m sorry. Don’t be angry with me."

"Whatever."

Delisse laughed again. "So, what are you going to do regarding the slum girl?"

"What else? Find a way to send her back to where she came from."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"I’ll find a way to send her the fuck out of here."

"Well, good luck with that then. I have to get back to my man. See ya later."

The call recording ended with a faint click.

Erisia turned to gauge their reactions but was mildly disappointed to see nearly identical expressions—shock, disbelief, and dawning comprehension. Only Sierra’s face differed; she looked deathly pale, her wide eyes betraying not only shock but sheer panic.

The panic was twofold. First, the content itself was damning, worse than a blade tearing open her facade little by little and pushing out the lies, acts, and her hideous true self out. Second, this particular call was never supposed to see daylight. Sierra had two phones—the second one reserved for shady dealings and private conversations like this. No one should have had access to it.

Seliora had told Erisia about Sierra’s peculiar habit of recording her calls before deleting them, a detail revealed by the very hacker who had retrieved this recording. Erisia had immediately suspected Sierra used it as leverage for future threats. Whatever the reason, it had become a goldmine.

Smiling faintly, Erisia pulled them out of their collective silence. "This is just the beginning."

Turning back to the television, she swiped through the screen.

The next file opened—a chat record between Sierra and Delisse.

Sierra’s face went from pale to chalk-white in an instant. She hurriedly grabbed Selena’s arm, her grip tight and painful as she whispered hoarsely, "Mom! Mom, no! Don’t let her!"

Selena quickly pulled her hand away and turned to stare at her daughter, startled, before looking back at the television. The content of the chat immediately captured her attention.

The messages appeared one after another in bright text on the large screen:

Delisse: Hey Sierra.

Delisse: Right, I wanted to ask you something.

Sierra: What?

Delisse: Well, I’ve just been wondering... you said Erisia started the fire, right? And it started in your room. But why were you almost perfectly fine, and Erisia—the one who supposedly started it—had burns on her skin? I’ve just been thinking about it...