Page 125 of What Goes Around

The video showed Apple falling. No shove. No reach. No contact.

Then the aftermath, accusations thrown without hesitation, my father rushing forward, the crack of his hand across my face.

The room went dead silent. Someone cursed under their breath.

Apple’s recorded voice followed, soft, trembling. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Marissa made a strangled sound and yanked the cords from the projector, the computer, anything she could grab.

The screen went black.

For a moment, the only sound was Marissa’s shallow breathing as she gripped the back of a chair to steady herself.

Amy’s shoulder brushed mine. I nudged her back, no words needed.

“This is fake,” Apple said, her voice breaking. “None of this is real.”

My father stood frozen, staring at the blank screen like it had personally betrayed him. Around him, people were already shifting, edging their chairs away, looking at him with something closer to contempt than confusion.

“It’s fake,” Apple insisted, louder now. “Anyone can edit recordings. Screenshots. Videos. This is sick.”

Confusion rippled through the guests.

Apple searched the room desperately. “You can’t seriously believe this. I would never talk like that.”

“This is clearly a malicious attack,” Marissa said sharply. “Voice manipulation. Editing. Anyone with basic technical knowledge knows how easy this is.”

“Yes,” Apple seized on it instantly. “Someone hates me enough to do this. They want to ruin my future.”

Brandon glanced around the room, already clocking his business partners, the donors, the people whose opinions mattered.

“This content is manipulated,” he said firmly. “I would never hit my daughter. What’s happening here is inappropriate and invasive.”

“And I would never say those things,” Apple cried, tears streaking her makeup. “I love my friends. I love my sister.”

“I appreciate everyone coming,” Brandon said smoothly. “But this has crossed a line. We’re ending the event early.”

Marissa nodded quickly. “We’ll handle this privately and identify whoever is responsible. Then we will take legal action.”

I stayed seated, watching. I let my expression soften into something wounded and quiet, the picture of a daughter who had been wronged and was trying to hold herself together.

People were already looking at me with pity, whispering.

Apple was guided away through a side door, sobbing now, face buried in her hands. Brandon followed, jaw clenched, already calculating losses. Marissa kept her chin high, eyes darting, counting witnesses, measuring fallout.

They forgot about me.

Amy leaned closer, her voice barely a breath.

“Too bad she pulled the cords before the best part.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I murmured. “No matter how they spin this, doubt will follow her now.”

Once planted, it never left.

Amy studied my face. “Will you be okay at home? They’ll know you had a hand in this. Especially the staircase video.”

I didn’t look away from the door Apple had disappeared through.