Chapter 60

Serena's POV

"Yes," I cut her off smoothly, "there were others present. That's exactly how these photos came to be."

The reaction was immediate - dozens of cameras turned away from us to capture the image. The whispers among the reporters grew louder. Nina's carefully constructed mask was slipping, panic bleeding through the cracks.

"This was taken three months ago," I said calmly, "at the Odyssey private club."

I pressed the button to go to the next photo. This one showed her and Ian in the club's private pool area, his hands on her waist.

"Just swimming lessons," Nina blurted out, her voice rising an octave. "Ian was teaching me to swim. That's all!" She looked around the room, seeking support, but found only skeptical faces and furiously scribbling pens.

"Interesting," I said softly. "Especially since you've been on the university swim team since freshman year."

The third photograph appeared before she could respond. They were in a dimly lit VIP room. She seemed drunk, leaning dependently against Ian Whitemore, and his hand slipped under her clothes. Nina's face paled.

"I was drunk," she stammered. "I wasn't feeling well, and Ian was just helping me..."

"You seem to need a lot of help from my former fiancé," I observed. The reporters' whispers had grown to a steady buzz.

But it was the final photograph that silenced everything. Even the camera flashes stopped for a moment.

There was Ian, still in his engagement ceremony suit, with Nina in his arms. The timestamp showed it was taken just hours before he was supposed to meet me at the altar. The intimacy of their embrace was undeniable.

The lights blazed back to life in the conference hall, casting harsh fluorescence over Nina's pallid face. I stood my ground, watching her carefully constructed facade crumble. The sea of reporters before us erupted into chaos, their voices blending into a crescendo of shock and accusation.

Nina's fingers trembled as she gripped the table.

"Ms. Sinclair - Nina - is it true about your relationship with Ian Whitmore?" A reporter thrust his microphone forward. "When did it begin?"

Nina's lips parted, but no sound emerged. Another voice cut through the chaos: "How long have you been involved with your sister's ex-fiancé?"

The questions came rapid-fire now, each one more pointed than the last. I watched as Nina's composure fractured further, tears welling in her expertly made-up eyes. It was fascinating, really, how quickly her mask of innocence was dissolving.

"You've been making accusations against your sister for months," a female reporter pressed, her tone sharp. "Was this all just a smokescreen to hide your own actions?"

Nina's shoulders began to shake. "You don't understand," she choked out, her voice barely audible. "It's not... I never meant..." The tears spilled over now, sending black mascara trails down her cheeks.

Some of the reporters exchanged glances - I could see them weighing whether to ease up in the face of her distress. But others pressed harder.

"Nina Sinclair, what do you say to allegations that you deliberately sabotaged your sister's engagement?"

I saw Nina's eyes dart toward the exit. Before she could make her move, I stepped forward and caught her wrist. Her head snapped up, eyes wide with panic and fury.

"Running won't solve anything," I said quietly, pitched for her ears alone. "We're going to clear everything up right here."

She tried to wrench away, but I held firm. "Let me go," she hissed, her tear-stained face contorting. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

I met her gaze steadily. "Humiliation? Is that what you call accountability?"

Moments later, something shifted in her eyes then - the panic receding, replaced by something colder. When she spoke again, her voice had changed, taking on a strange, almost dreamy quality.

"Fine. You want the truth?" Nina turned to face the reporters. "Yes, Ian and I are in love. We have been for months. We tried to fight it, but..." She gave a delicate shrug, her lips curving into a small smile. "Sometimes the heart wants what it wants."

I felt my own lips curl into a sardonic smile. Even now, she was trying to spin this into some tragic romance. The reporters surged forward with renewed vigor, but I barely heard their questions.

"How convenient," I said, just loudly enough to carry. "That your heart happened to want exactly what would hurt me most."

Nina's eyes flashed, and for a moment, her careful mask slipped. In that instant, I saw what I'd always known was there: pure, undiluted hatred.

"I know what I did was wrong," she began, her voice wavering. "Ian and I... we never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes love just happens, and you can't control your heart." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, the perfect picture of remorse.

The reporters weren't buying her performance. "Ms. Nina Sinclair," one of them called out, his tone sharp. "If this was truly about uncontrollable love, why continue the affair after Mr. Whitmore and Ms. Serena Sinclair's engagement was announced? Why the secrecy?"

I suppressed a smile as Nina's composure cracked slightly. She hadn't expected them to be so direct. "I... we..." she stammered before collecting herself. "We tried to stay apart. Ian even agreed to the engagement to spare everyone's feelings. But our connection was too strong to deny."

"Speaking of sparing feelings," another reporter cut in, her red lipstick as sharp as her words, "isn't this a pattern in your family, Ms. Sinclair? Your mother Angela was also involved with Lawrence Sinclair while he was married to Serena's mother."

The color drained from Nina's face. This wasn't following her script at all. She'd clearly expected sympathy, perhaps even admiration for her "brave honesty." Instead, the vultures she'd invited were turning on her.

"That's... that's completely different," she protested, but her voice had lost its melodic quality. "I've been in so much pain, carrying this burden. All I want now is forgiveness and understanding." Her eyes found mine, pleading.

With cold amusement, I watched Nina continue her performance of self-justification.

Nina said weakly, her voice trembling with practiced emotion. "I feel terrible about betraying my sister. But sometimes you can't control who you fall in love with - feelings themselves aren't right or wrong. Back then, Ian and Serena were just two lonely people finding comfort abroad. It wasn't real love. But Serena gave so much to Ian, and he felt too guilty to tell her he wanted to break up."

"I know our relationship won't get any public sympathy, and I don't expect forgiveness," Nina continued, her eyes glistening. "I'll accept all the criticism and hatred I deserve! But now that you've exposed us publicly, sister, I actually feel relieved. I've been carrying this guilt about you for so long, never able to truly be happy with Ian, always feeling depressed."

I watched her performance with detached amusement. Her manipulation skills were indeed impressive - even in this situation, she was still trying to control the narrative.

"Sister, I'm not angry that you chose to humiliate me this way. In fact, I'm grateful - it's finally set me free," Nina said, looking at me with practiced sincerity. "I hope you can forgive Ian and me for falling in love uncontrollably. I really don't want this to ruin our sisterly bond."

"Blood is thicker than water, sister," she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound genuine. "Time heals all wounds. Can't we move past this, for the sake of family?"

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to me. I met her gaze steadily, letting the moment stretch until the air grew thick with tension. When I finally spoke, my voice was clear and cold as winter frost.

"No," I said simply. "A homewrecker never deserves forgiveness."