"This is evidence of Skylar sending someone to buy gasoline before the fire. The fire was self-directed and staged by her, with the purpose of framing Summer once again."

The fourth: an audio recording of testimony from a nurse who had long since been fired from the family home, describing in detail how Skylar had her tamper with the protein powder and how she was instructed to give false testimony saying she saw Summer sneakily eating the allergen herself.

"This is evidence of the hospital allergy incident where Skylar framed Summer and nearly killed her."

One piece of ironclad evidence after another was laid bare to the public.

The reporters went from initial shock to subsequent anger; the sound of shutters and discussion nearly took the roof off.

He stood there like a weathering stone statue, enduring all the gazes projected at him. He slowly raised his head to look at the lens, his eyes red and his voice choked, yet he forced himself to continue:

"I, Julian, am an accomplice to these crimes."

"I was blind and deluded, listening to one side, mistaking a pebble for a pearl and trampling a sincere heart into the mud."

"The girl who followed me since childhood, calling me 'Brother', who gave me all her trust and reliance—I personally sent her to prison and personally... destroyed the dream she viewed as her life."

He took a breath, the immense pain making him nearly unable to stand; he gripped the edge of the podium, his fingers turning white from the force.

"The thing I regret most in my life is not believing her three years ago."

"She waited for my trust in prison; I didn't give it."

"She waited for my justice in the hospital; I didn't give it."

"The last time she looked at me, her eyes were empty. There wasn't even hate left."

"Because I don't deserve it."

The last few words were spoken very softly, yet they hit everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.

"Therefore," he straightened his back, though it had long been bowed by remorse. He held up several documents. "Effective immediately, I officially resign from all positions within my family's group and all its subsidiaries."

"All personal assets under my name, including shares, real estate, and funds, will be donated entirely to the 'Starlight' Foundation to support women who suffer from domestic violence, wrongful convictions, and other injustices."

Chapter Twenty-One

Having finished speaking, he did not look at anyone else, nor did he care how the crowd behind him erupted into chaos and clamor. He turned around, straightening his long-scarred spine, and walked down the podium step by step. He exited the press conference venue and stepped into the overwhelming barrage of camera flashes and countless gazes—some shocked, some disdainful, and some complex.

Like a prisoner walking toward an execution ground.

Julian's press conference was akin to pouring a ladle of ice water into a boiling vat of oil.

Instantly, it exploded.

All the evidence—videos, transfer records, surveillance, and recorded testimonies—was frantically shared, analyzed, and interpreted by countless media outlets and independent bloggers.

Skylar, who not long ago was the "biological daughter who suffered from the fake daughter's bullying, weak, pitiful, and terminally ill," saw her persona completely collapse overnight. She became the target of nationwide condemnation, labeled a "peerless toxic woman" and a "scheming green tea."

"My god, is this woman a demon? Throwing herself down the stairs to frame someone else?"

"Bribing thugs for an assault? Is that something a human does?!"

"Setting a fire for a frame-up? Even setting a trap for her own brother? Could a carbon-based lifeform actually think of this?"

"An allergy that almost killed her? What kind of venomous snake is she?"

"Summer is too pitiful, truly tragic. To be targeted by such a snake and still be alive is a miracle."

"Were those two men from the families blind? They actually believed that nonsense?"

"I used to sympathize with Skylar; now I really want to travel back in time and slap myself!"

The backlash of public opinion came swiftly and violently.

The socialite circles that had previously offered Skylar warmth and sympathy fell silent collectively before immediately cutting ties. All photos and interactions with Skylar on social media accounts were deleted, as if they had never known the person.

Families that were once close to the household quietly distanced themselves.

Furthermore, late one night, the gates of the family villa were splashed with eye-catching red paint, with words like "Murderer" and "Die, Toxic Woman" written in hideous large characters.

The mother was already on the verge of a mental breakdown; seeing this, she fainted directly and was sent to the hospital. Diagnosed with acute stress disorder, she required absolute rest.

The father hurried back from abroad. Faced with a ruined home, a dying daughter, a mentally unstable wife, and a family reputation in tatters, he trembled with rage.

Seeing the haggard, unshaven older brother, he said nothing and stepped forward to deliver a resounding slap!

"You utter disgrace!" The father pointed at his son’s nose, his hand shaking. "Is this how I taught you?! Is this how you take care of your sister?! Driving away a child as good as Summer and indulging Skylar to this extent! You have lost all the face of our family! The reputation built over generations has been ruined in your hands!"

The son’s head was whipped to the side by the blow, and his cheek stung, but he remained silent and did not argue.

His father was right.

It was his stupidity, his blindness, and his indulgence that had single-handedly caused today's situation.

He had no right to defend himself in the slightest.

Skylar's ward became a corner forgotten by the world.

Aside from the necessary medical staff, no one visited her anymore. She lay on the hospital bed, her weak life sustained by expensive equipment and drugs. Occasionally, when she was awake, she could see the overwhelming curses on the internet, the mockery from her former social circle, and the photos of the hideous red paint on her home’s gates.

She no longer fussed or pleaded; she just stared at the ceiling with empty, venomous eyes, murmuring curses that no one could hear clearly.

The final window for the transplant was closing ruthlessly day by day.

Under the weight of his mother’s suicidal madness, his sister’s dying despair, his father’s angry accusations, the family’s ruined reputation, and the company’s precarious state, the older brother was completely crushed.

He no longer tried to contact Ethan, nor did he fantasize about Summer turning back.

He locked himself in his room for three days and nights without sleep, staring blankly at childhood photos of Summer, staring at the note that said "Never see each other again," and recalling, over and over, how he had pushed that bright, smiling sister into the abyss.

On the last day, Skylar experienced a brief rally before death and actually gained some energy.

She grabbed her brother's hand; her skeletal fingers were bone-chillingly cold, yet her strength was surprisingly immense.

"Brother..." Her voice was hoarse, like a broken bellows. "I don’t want to die... I really don’t want to die... Make Summer save me... Tell her to come... I’ll kowtow to her... I’ll be her slave... Brother, you promised me you would always protect me... Save me..."

The brother looked at his sister’s face, distorted and hideous in the face of death. He saw the most primitive desire and fear for life in her eyes, then thought of Summer’s bloodied hands that could never play again, and remembered that calm, stranger-like look she gave him when she last saw him.

His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain making it impossible to breathe.

He slowly pulled his hand back, his movements somewhat stiff.

"Skylar," he spoke, his voice dry like sandpaper. "Get some rest."

He didn't agree, nor did he refuse.

He just gently patted the back of her hand, then stood up and left the ward without looking back.

Chapter Twenty-Two

He went to Switzerland.

He did not try to see Summer; he knew he couldn't see her and didn't have the face to.

He simply used a special channel to deliver a letter and a small, sealed metal box to Ethan, asking him to make sure they reached Summer.

The letter was very short, only one sentence, the handwriting messy as if written with the last of his strength:

Summer, I’m sorry.

Brother... I am returning what I owe you.

Inside the metal box, carefully preserved in a sealed bag with ice, was a section of a pinky finger.

The cut was clean, obviously severed in one stroke with an extremely sharp tool.

It was the older brother's left pinky finger.

When Summer received that metal box, she was in the rehabilitation room.

The third restorative surgery was very successful. A world-class team of experts had formulated the most precise plan for her, and the surgery lasted ten hours. After the operation, although her fingers still couldn't return to their original state and still bore traces of deformity and stiffness, they were much better than the previous state of total immobility.