How I Confront My Sister After Rebirth

Framed

In my previous life, I had been dragged into this plagiarism scandal too. But before I could investigate, Colette had rushed back, flustered. "Liz, if you did plagiarize, just admit it and be done with it. Don't let Henry's family find out—they won't be as forgiving as ours."

"Huh! Some people are not only incompetent but are also obstinate!" My mom believed Colette and locked me in the house until my reputation as a plagiarist spread and the whole industry blacklisted me.

Colette, by contrast, had ridden that one proposal into the notice of a famous foreign company CEO and left the country, living a secure life ever after. Looking back now, the truth was that Colette had stolen my campaign.

I clenched my fingers and bowed to the manager. "I will produce proof that I didn't plagiarize."

When I went home to confront Colette, she leaned in close and sneered quietly, "So what if I did? Do you have any proof? You don't deserve a career or a family."

Furious, I slapped her hard. She covered her face in shock, then burst into tears. Her crying drew my mom, who, seeing the red handprint on Colette's cheek, flew into a rage.

Colette sniffled and put on an act. "I really didn't steal your proposal, Liz… I've already forgiven you for plagiarizing my work. What more do you want?"

She sobbed harder. "I know you like Henry too, but you can't frame me like this—Mom, please help me!"

My mom slapped me across the face. "Liz Stanton! I'm telling you—your sister is about to be a rich man's wife. You'd better admit you stole Colette's plan, or I'll make you regret it. You've always been nothing but trouble; if you were half as sensible as Colette, I wouldn't be so vexed every time I look at you."

I turned my head, disappointment hollowing me out. All my life, whenever Colette messed up, my mom blamed me. Whatever Colette rejected, my mom handed to me like charity, and then scolded me for being petty enough to take it—men included. I had only ever gotten the leftovers.

I lifted my chin and stared into my mother's eyes, determined. "I won't. Why should I always give in to her? I didn't plagiarize—period."

My mom clutched her chest and wailed, "You wretched wench—if you won't admit it, get out!"

"I'll be generous and forgive Liz, Mom," Colette cooed to our mother, feigning sweetness. "Don't let her raise your blood pressure."

My mom, placated, grew even more contemptuous of me. "Don't go to work anymore. I'll find you a husband right now. The sooner you're married off, the sooner I'll have peace."

At that, she locked me in my room and refused to open the door, no matter how hard I pounded. She even confiscated all my devices so I couldn't contact anyone. For meals, she left me a single bag of cookies—ones Colette didn't like—as my only food supply.

Outside the door, Colette loudly boasted that her wedding to Henry was next week and that she alone would have the picture-perfect family. She didn't forget to jab at me either. "Mom already found you a match! I hear his family's well-off. Your future husband just turned sixty, Liz—you're lucky! You don't have to bear him any progeny, and you'll become a grandmother right off the bat!"

But her words didn't scare me—marriage wasn't something my mom could decide for me.

…

That night, after my mom and Colette had fallen asleep, I tied my sheets and clothes together and climbed out the window. I didn't pause once I hit the ground; I ran straight to the office and only relaxed when I sat back at my desk.

Before I'd gone to confront Colette, I had feared something would go wrong. So, I had uploaded every piece of research and the electronic version of my proposal to the cloud, then deleted the local records.

That was my only chance to prove my innocence.