"The press will be here any minute. You will apologize to Ruth publicly. Do you have any idea how brutal the comments are? She's still so young—if I hadn't gotten here in time, your little stunt would've pushed her to slit her wrists!"
On the hospital bed, Ruth sat perfectly upright.
Whole. Unharmed. Not so much as a pink mark on her wrists.
A person pretending to sleep will never wake, no matter how loud you call.
Besides—someone was waiting for me.
"No need to make this complicated."
I handed my daughter to the nurse who'd followed us in, then pulled out my phone and opened a livestream.
I turned toward Ruth and bowed deeply from the waist.
"Miss Sanchez, I'm sorry. For all the false accusations circulating online, I offer my sincerest apology. You're not a scheming little sister who drove a wedge between husband and wife. I'm the vicious one—absurdly jealous of a normal sibling relationship, deliberately divorcing your brother, posting sob stories online for sympathy, even paying trolls to attack you."
I bowed again.