My younger brother, Luke, committed suicide after being falsely accused of plagiarizing Layla's brother's music.

My own life was a living hell. I was a respected music critic, but now I was the sister of "the plagiarist."

My reputation was in tatters. My colleagues whispered behind my back, and my articles were dismissed as the ramblings of a biased, grieving relative.

The one person who had always stood by me was my husband, Julian, a successful music producer. We had been together since college, and he was my rock, my refuge in the storm. I thought he would believe me. But, he didn't.

But the real betrayal came the evening, just another day of being ridiculed online, I came home to find Julian on the phone. His voice was low and urgent, laced with a coldness I had never heard before.

"The case is closed, Layla. It’s over," he said. "The evidence has been submitted. No one will ever know that it was your brother who plagiarized Luke's music."

My blood ran cold. The phone call felt like a bucket of icy water dumped on my head. I stood frozen in the doorway, a paper bag full of groceries slipping from my numb fingers.

Julian's ever so confident voice echoed through my ears.

“The evidence against your brother was strong, darling,” Julian had said, his voice calm, as if he were discussing the weather. “He plagiarized a piece. It’s a fact. I know you loved him, but you must accept the truth.”

That was what he had told me when the news first burst out about my brother being a plagiarized musician.

I felt a surge of nausea. "No," I whispered, the word a fragile defense against his accusation. "No, he didn't. He couldn't have."

"I have proof, Claire. I saw it myself," he said, pulling a flash drive from his pocket. "He copied David's melody note for note. It's a shame, but it’s the truth."

I snatched the drive from his hand, my fingers shaking. "How did you get this?" I demanded, my voice raw with disbelief.

Julian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "David is a good friend, Claire. His family has been a huge support for my career. I couldn't let your brother ruin his reputation."

"So you helped him?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "You helped him frame my brother?"

Julian’s face hardened. "I did what I had to do. David is a rising star. Your brother… he was just a kid. I had to choose a side, and I chose the one that was right."

That night I had cried the whole night. The man I loved for five years did not believe my words, that my brother was innocent. My brother's desperate plead through the text messages only shattered my heart into million pieces.

"Claire, tell Brother-in-law it wasn't me!"

"Claire, you believe me, right?"

"Claire, why is brother-in-law supporting Declan over me?"

I tried my best convincing my husband that my brother was innocent. But, he turned dead ears to my request of helping him.

"Claire, sweetheart! You are blinded by your brother's love and can't see right through the wrong. But, I'm. Luke is guilty and he must be punished." He had said, his voice cold as he added, "Don't discuss about Luke to me anymore, alright?"

It was only now that I realized, it's not that he didn't believe me or my brother. In fact, he was the one who framed my brother.

His words were a brutal punch to the gut. The man I had loved and trusted for years had not only betrayed me but had actively participated in my brother’s destruction. He had not only stood by and watched as my family fell apart, but he had orchestrated the entire thing.

Just then my phone beeped. It was a text from an unknown number which read.

[I can help you get evidences that can prove your brother was innocent. But, in return, I want something from you.]

I know who this person was. The text was from Michael Beckham, the man Julian warned me to never contact.

I stared the text for a long while before I finally replied, [Alright. I'll do whatever you want. Just help me get the evidences.]

I was done listening to my husband's confession of crime over the phone call. It's time when I unmasked his pretentious face and confront him directly. I wanted to go inside and give a hard slap on his face, but then my phone rang.

It was my mother's voice. Her voice was weak, her words slurred. "Claire... your father... he collapsed. The doctors said it's a heart attack."

I had no time to think. I stumbled out of the house, the rain-slicked streets a blur of lights and colors. I ran to the hospital, but it was too late. My father was gone.

My family, once so full of life and music, was now a hollowed-out ruin.

My brother was gone, my father was gone, and the man I loved was responsible for their death.

I stood in the rain, the cold drops washing away the last traces of my past life. My love for Julian, once a vibrant flame, was now nothing but a pile of cold ash. I looked at the rain, and I knew what I had to do.

I had to avenge my family. I had to make him pay. And I would not stop until his company, his reputation, and his entire life lay in ruins, just like mine.

***

When I returned home, I was soak wet in water. My whole body was burning with fever. But, the sight that I witnessed at the living hall, sent chills down my spine. 、

Layla was sitting leisurely on the couch while Julian was feeding her a mouthful of soup. Holding the plate in his hands he said, his voice soft and laced with genuine care, "You should eat more, Layla. You have lost too much weight in past few days."

I couldn't hold the cough, a symbol of my body slowly giving up. It drew their attention at me. Julian's eyebrows furrowed as soon as his gaze landed at me.

"Where have you been all this time?" He asked, his voice as cold as ice, a stark contrast to the softness his voice carried while talking to Layla just moments ago.

"I had told you that I have invited some friends over dinner. Instead of preparing dinner, you disappeared from the home. You didn't bother enough to receive my call?"

Only now did I check my phone. It had one missed call from Julian, just one. I was supposed to pick up his call as soon as he dials. But, if he is not able to receive my calls after dialing dozen times, he was just busy with his work and as his wife I should understand that.

However, I was accustomed to these things now. But, looking at him now, knowing how he caused the death of two members of my family, I only felt anger and disgust.

"I got some work." I said lazily, "Besides, your friend seem quite satisfied with your hosting her. She doesn't need me at all."

After throwing out these words, I rushed upstairs. However, Layla's soft voice, laced with maliciousness and fake pity reached to my ears.

"Juliannn..." She whispered, "I think Claire doesn't like me. She still holds grudges against me because of my brother. If she doesn't like me, I'll stop coming here then."

"Don't talk nonsense." He quickly refused, but his voice laced with hurt and worry. "If she doesn't like you, that's her problem. Why would you suffer because of her?"

"Don't you worry. I'll later bring her at your home and let her apologize to your brother on her brother's behalf. Okay?"

Julian's words cut deep through my heart. But, I did not cry or went to confront him or tried to defend my brother. I just kept walking until I reached my room. I shut the door closed and let my body fall on the bed.

My heart had turned hollow by this time. Nothing could hurt me anymore. For what seemed eternity, I heard the sound of door's churning and then the footsteps of Julian as he reached to my side of the bed.

Gently caressing my hair, he asked, "What happened, Claire? You seem... a little off today."

"I'm fine." I said, my voice distant. "I'm just tired."

"Oh," He just mumbled. "Take rest then."

Having said that, he walked up to the door, grabbed his leather jacket and was about to go out when I finally asked, "Where are you going?"

"Since you are tired, I will let you take rest for tonight, Claire." He said, "Layla is going for late night party. I don't feel it's safe for her to go alone. So, I'm going with her."

My nails dig deeper inside the pillow. Two drops of tears rolled down my cheeks, a stark contrast to my earlier thought that nothing could hurt me anymore.

"Okay," I said, "Have fun with... Layla."

I tried my best, not to be sarcastic. But, he seemed to guess something was not right and walked up to me.

"Claire..." He whispered, "There is nothing between me and her, okay? Stop overthinking. Her parents have huge favor on me. I'm just returning it."

"I know." I said, not bothering enough to look at him.

"One more thing." He began, "Your brother has not apologized to Layla's brother yet. Try to put some sense into your brother's mind and bring him to Layla's home to apologise."

"He should be thankful enough that Layla's parents did not file complaint against him considering my relationship with him or else he would have been behind the cell by now."

"He can at least apologize sincerely, can't he?"

Julian's words sent shivers down my spine, reminding me the tragic death of my brother. Still, he didn't know!

He didn't know that Layla's family could never harm my brother anymore. They had already done enough. He had suffered enough. He would not suffer anymore.

"He will not come, Julian!" I said, finally raising my head to look at him. "He isn't coming back! Never." I yelled.

I remembered a week ago my mother had called me, informing me about my brother being locked inside his room and not opening the door for anyone.

At that time, Julian had been insisting I should go with him to see Layla's parents and apologize on my brother's behalf.

I informed him about my brother's situation. But, he coldly replied, "He is just throwing tantrums. So, he could save his face."

"You are my wife, Claire. So, you should listen to me." He commanded.

"What if I don't?" I asked, my voice challenging.

"Then I have plenty of ways to make you obey." That's what he had said, threatening me with throwing my brother into prison with the evidence he had gathered against him.

That day, he dragged me to Layla's home only to find out her whole family was out for a trip. When we returned home, I received a message.

[We were too late, Claire. Your brother killed himself.]

A picture was attached with it showing my brother lying in the pool of blood, a headphone attached to his ears.

Julian's eyes darkened. He was not used to listen 'No' from me, let alone 'Never'.

He walked closer His legs paused mid-strideto me, each step he took showed dominance and arrogance. For a moment, I stiffened in my bed. Then echoed the voice of Layla, seductive and charming, "Julian... We are getting late dear."

His legs paused mid-stride.He only spoke, "Listen to me very carefully, Claire. If you don't want your brother to be sent to prison, bring him to Layla's Birthday party next week and try to come with some decent gifts, alright?"

I pursed my lips as I finally said, my voice cold and distant, "Alright, he will come... With a proper gift."

"Good..." He said, his voice softening and he turned his back at me and left.

As soon as he left the room, I dialed a number. The call was picked up immediately.

"I know what you want from me. I have all the information about Julian's Clients and his upcoming projects. I'll hand over all the core information to you."

"In return, I want you not to just gather the evidence of my brother's evidence, but also the evidence of Julian's crime. I want him exposed next week."

Michael's voice sounded from the other end, a cold mirthless laughter as he spoke, "Cutting the hands that feeds you, Mrs. Williams? I hope you have some plans in your mind after screwing your husband."

"You don't need to worry about that." I said before I hang up the call.

Then I called my lawyer.

"Are the divorce papers ready?" I asked, I had filed for divorce the day Luke died.

"Yes, Mrs. Williams. When and where you do you want me to deliver it?" He asked.

"Next week. At Royal Palace."

A banquet arranged by my husband to celebrate Layla White's birthday. He wanted me to come with a gift.

What could be better gift than giving away my husband to her?