The Billion-Dollar Frame-Up and the Proof That Crushed It

A deep-seated fear of being framed has blessed me with an almost pathological need to document everything.

When my elementary school teacher accused me of not turning in the class fees, I produced surveillance footage of me placing the cash on her desk, counting it out ten times under the cameras watchful eye. She had to admit shed lost it.

Years later, when accounting tried to pin a late expense report on me, I produced chat logs from six apps and emails CC'd to eight managers. The accountant had to publicly admit her incompetence.

And when that same company tried to fire me for "gross violations," I presented over a thousand pieces of video and photo evidence, playing it frame-by-frame for thirty hours. My boss ended up tearfully writing me a check for two months' severance.

Then, my ultra-wealthy biological parents found me and offered me a position at Apex Industries.

My direct supervisor? The fake heiress who had been living my life.

To protect myself, every button on my clothes was a hidden camera, every pen a recorder. I screen-recorded every chat and even hacked into the companys 188 surveillance cameras.

My paranoia paid off when the fake heiress, Jocelyn, confronted me, her face covered in an angry red rash.

"Vera," she demanded, trembling, "I told you I was allergic to milk. Why would you put it in my coffee?"

I knew right then that all my preparations were about to bear fruit.

...

I feigned a moment of confusion.

"But you're the one who asked for a latte, weren't you?"

The words had barely left my lips when my biological brother, Grayson, burst out of the CEOs office. He cradled Jocelyn's face, his expression a mask of anguish.

Then, his eyes, burning with fury, locked onto me.

"Jocelyn is deathly allergic to milk! Why would she ever ask for a latte? You were jealous, weren't you? You wanted to kill her! Figures. Gutter-rat from the middle of nowhere."

Jocelyn quickly intervened, dabbing at her crocodile tears. "It's okay, Grayson. Vera has every right to hate me. I'm the one who stole her life. If my dying would make her feel better, then I'm willing."

With a dramatic flourish, she grabbed the half-finished latte and brought it to her lips as if to down the rest.

Grayson panicked, slapping the cup from her hand. He started shouting for a doctor, his corporate image shattering on the marble floor. He turned back to me, his gaze dripping with venom.

"Even if something happened to Jocelyn, a piece of trash like you would never take her place as a Sterling! If you hadn't come crawling back to us, she would still be my only sister. You're the one who ruined her life! You're shameless!"

I almost burst out laughing.

Ignoring Grayson, I stared directly at Jocelyn.

"Are you sure you're not trying to frame me?"

Jocelyns face crumpled instantly into a theatrical display of tears.

"Vera, are you suggesting I'd risk my own health just to frame you? If I've told a single lie, I'll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness right here, right now!"

Without a word, I pulled out a pen recorder and pressed play.

Jocelyns clear, sweet voice filled the silent office.

Hey, Vera, if youre not too busy, could you grab me a latte? One-third sugar, please.~

The entire floor went dead quiet.

Jocelyns eyes bulged as she stared at the recorder in my hand, clearly blindsided by my level of preparation.

"You... you misheard me! I never said the word latte!"

She tried to scramble for an excuse, but I just let the recording continue.

Just to confirm, you want a coffee with whole milk?

Yes, thats right. Thanks so much.

This time, she had nothing to say.

"Recordings are easy to fake," Grayson snarled, still defending her. "A scheming bitch like you probably planned this from the start!"

"I have video, too," I said, pulling out my phone.

I played the full, unedited clip for the entire office to see. Watching the color drain from Jocelyns face, then return in splotches of red and white, I allowed myself a triumphant smirk.

"Well, Jocelyn? Get on your knees."

Jocelyn gasped for air a few times before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed. Grayson dropped to the floor, cradling her and wailing, but not without throwing one last accusation at me.

"Are you happy now? Look what you've done to her!"

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought theyd get stuck.

What I had done? All I did was play back her own words!

Just then, my dear biological parents rushed in. After hearing a wildly embellished version of events from a coworker, my father turned to me, his face a stern mask of disappointment.

"Vera, I know you resent your sister, but you can't force her to kneel before you!"

I didn't speak. I just pressed the play button on the recorder again.

If I've told a single lie, I'll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness right here, right now!

Hearing this, my parents' expressions soured even further.

"Even if Jocelyn made a mistake, she is still your sister," my mother scolded. "You should learn to be more forgiving. We Sterlings don't raise our daughters to be so petty!"

"You never raised me at all," I said flatly.

The single sentence shut my father up completely.

"Is there anything else? If not, I'm getting back to work."

Ignoring them, I walked back to my desk. This level of drama was child's play compared to what I'd endured my whole life.

They rushed Jocelyn to the hospital.

That evening, I got a call from her.

"Vera, I'm so sorry about today. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you."

I considered it for a moment, then agreed.

When I got to the bar, I found Jocelyn with a group of seven or eight other people.

"So this is Jocelyn's long-lost sister? A real step down."

"Told you there's a world of difference between city folk and country hicks. Who cares if she's the real heiress? She has zero class."

"I don't know, guys, she looks like she could be a good time. Wonder if she had to sell herself to make ends meet."

I ignored their snide remarks and scrolled through my phone.

A sleazy-looking guy swaggered over and offered me a drink. I politely told him I was allergic to alcohol.

His face flushed with anger. "What the hell? You think you're too good to drink with me?"

Jocelyn chimed in, a sickly sweet tone in her voice. "Come on, Vera. If you don't drink, it means you're still mad at me, doesn't it?"

"You're right. I am still mad at you."

My bluntness stunned her into silence. I truly couldn't fathom the audacity of this girl who had stolen my entire life.

I turned on my phones video camera and addressed the whole table.

"Just so everyone is aware, if your pressuring me to drink results in any adverse health effects, under state liability laws, every single one of you could be looking at an assault charge."

That shut them up. The desire to interact with me vanished from the room.

Jocelyn shot me a venomous look before turning back to her posse and continuing to drink.

A few hours later, she was completely wasted.

As I was about to help her home, one of her friends stopped me.

"The Sterling estate is way too far from here. It's not safe for two girls to be out this late. Why don't you just take her to the apartment she rents nearby?"

She gave me an address.

It seemed logical enough, so I took Jocelyn there. The thought of spending another minute in the same room with her was nauseating, so I dropped her off and called a car for myself.

I never expected to be woken up the next morning by Grayson dragging me out of bed and slapping me hard across the face.

"You're a monster! How could you do that to Jocelyn!"

I was still reeling from the blow, completely disoriented. Before I could even ask what was going on, he hauled me to the apartment I'd left Jocelyn in.

The scene was chaos. Jocelyn was on the floor, her clothes ripped, her skin covered in horrifying marks. She was sobbing hysterically.

My parents were there, comforting her. When they saw me, my mother marched over and slapped me without a word.

"What did she ever do to you?" she screamed. "How could you hate her so much that you'd hire someone to ruin her?"

"I just took her to the address her friend gave me," I managed to say, holding out the recording I'd made at the bar.

But Jocelyn was one step ahead. "I-I don't even know that person!" she cried. "And this isn't my apartment! Vera, if you hate me, you can hit me, you can scream at me, but you can't do this! You can't destroy my life like this!"

Grayson looked ready to tear me apart. If our parents hadn't been holding him back, he probably would have.

"You bitch! You brought her here, left her all alone, and didn't tell anyone? And you expect us to believe this wasn't your plan all along?"

"But I did tell you!"

"When?" Grayson scoffed.

In the stunned silence that followed, I pulled out my phone and showed them the email I'd sent to all three of them. It detailed Jocelyn's drunken state, her current location, and a request for them to come pick her up.

"I also sent a message to Mom and Dad's phones, but I guess they were asleep. As for you," I said, looking at Grayson, "you never accepted my contact request."

Grayson fumbled for his phone. There it was, at the top of his requests: a message from me. I had even added a note: Jocelyn's drunk. Come get her when you have a chance.

He was dumbfounded. It took him a long moment to find his voice. "So what if you told us? This was obviously part of your calculation! How else could she have been attacked in her own room so conveniently?"

"You'll have to ask your dear sister that," I said with a shrug.

Jocelyn's head snapped up. "Vera, are you actually suggesting I would use my own body, my own honor, to frame you? I'm not that depraved!"

"She's right," my mother added, her voice laced with disappointment. "I raised Jocelyn for over twenty years. I know her character. But you, Vera... you were raised by those crude people in the countryside. It's no wonder you picked up some of their wicked ways."

They tag-teamed me, defending Jocelyn while tearing me down.

I let out a bitter laugh. What was the point of a family like this?

"Good thing I was worried about my sister's safety," I said coolly. "So I planted a small hidden camera on her nightstand before I left."

Jocelyn's face went white.