After My Brother Cured Me, I Destroyed His Family

No matter how many questions they threw at me, my answers always circled back to money. They couldn’t squeeze a shred of useful information from me.

Because I had confessed to my crimes during the livestream, the entire nation was following the story. Under the mounting pressure of public opinion, the interrupted livestream was soon restored.

Furious viewers flooded the chat, spewing insults and prying into every detail of my personal life, dragging my family’s reputation into the mud.

"This woman is the lowest of the low," one message read. "Guys, I just hacked into something private. Turns out Claire Bowden had multiple abortions at a private clinic. And it wasn’t just once!"

"She’s been admitted to psychiatric hospitals twice—once for autism and once for depression. Her abortion records show one happened after her first discharge, and the other just a month ago!"

An officer holding a phone shoved one of the chat messages in my face.

"Claire Bowden, if I recall correctly, you don’t have a boyfriend. Care to explain these abortion records?"

My smile froze.

Noticing the shift in my expression, the officer seemed to sense a breakthrough. Suppressing his anger, he forced himself to speak in a gentler tone.

"We’re here to help, Claire. If someone wronged you, we’ll make sure justice is served. Don’t be afraid."

I let out a long sigh.

"Well, it’s tied to a rather painful memory..."

Immediately, the officer hurried off to make me a cup of tea.

"Take your time," he said gently, setting the cup down in front of me. "Take a moment to calm yourself, then tell us everything."

I picked up the tea and sipped it slowly. My eyes flicked to the livestream chat, which was exploding with messages:

"Is this it? Is the juicy part finally coming up?"

"Brace yourselves! Something big is about to drop!"

Meeting the officer’s expectant gaze, I let out another soft sigh and spoke in an exaggeratedly wistful tone.

"Are matters of love and passion also your domain? I'd much prefer to explore those topics with someone more... attractive!"

The room fell silent, but I wasn’t done.

"Isn’t there a detective from the capital’s major crimes unit who’s supposed to be quite the looker? I hear his family’s got some serious connections. I might be willing to talk if I’m looking at his handsome face."

Everyone froze. The room plunged into a stunned, dead silence.

The officer in charge of my interrogation was so enraged his chest heaved violently, his palm slamming on the desk hard enough to nearly crack it.

"Unbelievable!"

The livestream audience was equally stunned by my shamelessness.

"Did she seriously want to flirt with Detective Ford who is in the capital? He only handles major cases. What makes her think she’s even worthy of meeting him?"

"Still, I kind of want to see it happen. Claire Bowden used to be such a recluse. Let’s see if the public demand can actually get Detective Ford involved!"

I noticed the flood of comments about Aaron Ford and bit down on the inside of my cheek. It wasn’t the right moment to reveal the truth just yet.

But I couldn’t help wondering—would public pressure really bring Aaron to my door?

The interrogation concluded, and I was escorted to a detention center.

As I passed by, a female officer was trying to comfort a girl covered in bruises. The girl was trembling, unable to stop crying, let alone give a proper statement.

When she caught sight of the male officers escorting me, her whole body began to shake uncontrollably.

I stopped and stared for a long moment.

One of the officers sneered at me. "What’s this? Someone like you feeling sorry for an innocent girl?"

I smiled faintly. "Why wouldn’t I? After all, I’m just a twenty-year-old girl myself."

Three days later, after singing songs to the walls of my cell, the iron door finally creaked open.

A man I’d never seen before entered, flipping through my case file. He was tall and striking, his sharp features shadowed with exhaustion. When he glanced up, our eyes met, and I recognized him immediately.

He was Aaron Ford—the rising star of the capital’s elite crime unit.

The nationwide petition had worked.

"Your case is now under my supervision. Let’s hear it. All the details you’ve been keeping to yourself. I’ve been following the livestream, and so has the rest of the country."

I took a deep breath. Slowly, I exhaled and said, "If I hadn’t tricked them, I’d be the one dead."