Not good—a pity play!
Before anyone else could react, I rushed forward and barked, "Stop! Who allowed you to swing indoors?!"
My brother slid in with a perfect tackle, kicking both the stool and the boy off balance.
The so-called "fake young master" tumbled to the ground in a spectacular sprawl before the rope could even touch his neck.
"Ah!" he yelped in pain as the family rushed forward in panic to help him up.
When they saw the chandelier's rope and the stool, their faces filled with horror.
"Felix, what on earth are you doing?" Aunt Mariz cried.
Felix looked up at me with tear-filled eyes, his voice trembling theatrically.
"Brother, it's all my fault. I stole your identity for so many years, making you suffer... Let me atone for my sins with my life!"
He choked on a sob and turned to Noah. "Please, don't blame Mom and Dad. Take care of them for me... please?"
Aunt Mariz immediately pulled him into her arms, her voice shaking.
"Don't say that, silly child! You're our son too—we raised you with our own hands!"
From the side, Sheila shot us both a murderous glare.
"You foolish brother! This has nothing to do with you. Let's see who dares to blame you!"