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Looking at the terrifying hole in my neck and my twisted limbs, his expression full of pity.
"Miss Lawrence, the specialists your father arranged might be delayed. You'll have to endure a little longer"
But even the strongest painkiller couldn't stop the pain in my heart.
I sobbed, desperately biting my lip until I tasted blood.
My parents watched, their eyes red-rimmed with what looked like genuine distress.
My brother shoved his forearm near my mouth.
"It's okay, Isabelle. if it hurts too much, bite me. Don't hurt yourself."
They acted like the most caring family, but I only felt a bone-chilling cold.
When I woke again, it was already the next day.
Before promised specialists arrived, I overheard my brother and mother talking outside my door.
"Alex, Isabelle has been punished enough. Are we really going ahead with having those reporters come today to expose her plagiarism? After all, we don't have solid evidence..."
My brother sighed, his tone resolute.
"We must expose her! Her career is over anyway. A little more scandal won't matter. This will secure the judges' sympathy for Ann, greatly increasing her chances of winning the Gold Music Award!"
"Ann was raised by us, she wouldn't lie. Even without evidence, I'll testify for her!"
My father's voice joined in, a low warning,
"In front of the reporters later, don't be too protective of Isabelle. She needs to be taught a lesson, to be humbled."
My brother agreed solemnly.
I lay on the hospital bed hopelessly, but my tears had long dried up.
The reason my brother found me ten years ago was because of a singing competition video from the orphanage.
They recognized me and brought me home.
I worked harder and suffered more than Ann to get into the same prestigious music academy.
Later, I even created "Moonlight in the Abyss," which earned a Gold Music Award.
And now, my own brother believed Ann's words and was willing to commit perjury for her, to utterly destroy me!
My heart felt like it was being wrung out.
If I had known then what I knew now,, I would never have gone home with them back then.
"Bam!"
The hospital room door was thrown open.
A crowd of reporters surged in, cameras flashing.
I lay helpless, a spectacle, as they hurled their accusations.
"Isabelle, is it true you were attacked by anti-fans for plagiarizing your sister's work? Do you admit your guilt now?"
"We heard they cut out your vocal cords and broke your limbs. Are you going to be a mute cripple for life?"
A reporter at the front, feigning outrage, asked a few questions before suddenly pulling back his microphone and laughing coldly.
"Almost forgot you can't talk now. Let everyone have a look then!"
He yanked the blanket off me, exposing my broken, twisted limbs.
"With your hands and feet broken like this, you shouldn't be able to copy your sister's songs anymore, right?"
"Don't be so sure. Maybe she can be a determined disabled plagiarist. Didn't someone type with their tongue?"
Another reporter nearby sneered.
Everyone surrounded me, snapping pictures, their contempt and ridicule like sharp knives stabbing into my heart.
Humiliated beyond belief, yet unable to defend myself, my swollen eyes filled with tears again.
"Isabelle, even now you're still pretending to be pitiful. Aren't you going to apologize to your sister?"
Seeing my state, the reporter shoved his camera into my face, starting a live broadcast.
"Famous singer-songwriter Isabelle Lawrence was brutally disabled by fans in retaliation for stealing her sister Ann Lawrence's songs..."
Tears blurred my vision. I wanted to hide, but moving was a luxury.
Camera flashes popped incessantly, capturing every humiliating and disheveled state.
"This is a private hospital! Who let you in!"
My brother charged in, roaring at them to leave.
My mother quickly covered me with the blanket again. My father yelled at the reporters, "Get out before I sue you!"
"Mr. Lawrence, Ms. Summers, as respected industry veterans, are you protecting a plagiarist?"
"Does a biological daughter truly outweigh an adopted one?"
