After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

”People, please!” Zoe shouted into the microphone, gripping the edges of the wooden podium. ”These are official medical records! There is no AI involved!”

Her voice was entirely swallowed by the deafening roar of fifty overlapping journalists. The ”Deepfake” rumor had hit the room like a lit match in a fireworks factory. The media didn’t want the boring, clinical truth of Aria’s survival; they wanted the scandalous, career-ending lie.

”We need independent verification!” a reporter from Page Six shrieked over the din.

”Who coded the PDF?!” another yelled.

Zoe felt a pulsing vein throb in the center of her forehead.

Then suddenly, the double doors at the very back of the conference room burst open.

Like a synchronized flock of vultures, the flashing cameras and blinding ring lights pivoted away from the podium and aimed directly at the entrance.

Standing in the threshold, executing a highly stylized, slow-motion cinematic entrance, were Bella Vale and Lucas Sinclair.

Bella was dressed in a chic, tailored black mourning dress that screamed ’tragic but elegant sister’. She had strategically texted her own personal, loyal paparazzi. They swarmed in right behind her, their flashbulbs illuminating her perfectly highlighted cheekbones.

Zoe’s jaw hit the floor.

”Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she whispered into the mic.

Bella didn’t walk toward the stage. She paused right in the center aisle, letting the media flock to her. A sweaty, desperate reporter thrust a microphone into her face.

Instead of backing away, Bella reached out and grabbed the mic from the reporter’s hand, pulling it close to her glossy lips.

”I just... I had to come down here,” Bella announced, her voice trembling with a fake, breathy sorrow. She blinked rapidly, forcing a single, glistening tear to spill over her lower lashes. ”I heard what the doctor was saying. And honestly, it breaks my heart to say this... but Aria has always struggled with her truth.”

The room went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Behind her, Lucas stood stiff as a board. He was sweating visibly through his designer turtleneck, his eyes darting nervously toward the curtain hiding his terrifying uncle’s inner circle, but he kept his hand firmly on Bella’s lower back, desperately trying to play the supportive, heroic ’friend’.

”What are you implying, Ms. Vale?!” a journalist gasped.

”I’m just saying,” Bella sniffled, looking directly into the nearest camera lens with wide, innocent eyes, ”that Aria is very... creative. She loves attention. Faking a coma? Forging medical records to get out of a PR scandal? I know her better than anyone. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Behind the podium, Zoe’s vision turned red.

The black curtain whipped back.

Julian stepped out into the blinding lights. The composed lawyer looked like a great white shark that had just smelled blood in the water. He bypassed the podium, his voice cutting through the room with chilling authority.

”That is actionable defamation, Ms. Vale,” Julian stated. ”You are publicly accusing my client of medical fraud without a single shred of evidence. Expect a multi-million-dollar lawsuit filed against you by the end of the business day.”

Lucas flinched, instinctively taking a half-step backward.

But Bella, blinded by the flashing cameras and the intoxicating rush of going viral, doubled down.

”Evidence?!” Bella cried, her voice pitching up into a hysterical, defensive squeak. ”I don’t need evidence! I saw the PDF you guys just blasted to everyone’s phones! I know my sister’s handwriting! I saw the signature on that document! It’s completely fake!”

The entire room paused.

Julian stopped walking. Zoe stared at her. Even the reporter who had handed her the microphone blinked in confusion.

”Ms. Vale,” Julian said, his voice entirely deadpan. ”It is a digital, typed font. It is an electronic physician’s signature. There is no handwriting on the document.”

A few of the smarter journalists in the front row actually snickered.

Bella’s face flushed a humiliating shade of crimson. Her brain scrambled for a recovery, but she had backed herself into a corner of pure stupidity.

That was the exact moment Zoe lost her fucking mind.

”You bottom-feeding parasite!” Zoe shrieked at the top of her lungs, storming down the steps of the stage.

”Zoe, wait—” Kai warned.

”She was in a medically induced coma!” Zoe roared, closing the distance down the center aisle.

Zoe grabbed the back of a metal folding chair from the front row and hoisted it into the air. ”You delusional, clout-chasing psycho!” she screamed, intending to launch the chair directly at Bella’s head like a WWE wrestler.

Bella shrieked, dropping the microphone and diving behind a terrified Lucas.

Before Zoe could release the chair, two muscular arms wrapped around her waist. Kai hoisted her completely off the carpet, hauling her backward.

”Put me down!” Zoe yelled, kicking her heels wildly in the air, the folding chair still clutched in her hands. ”Let me at her! I’m going to put her in a real coma!”

”Zoe, drop the chair!” Kai laughed, struggling to hold onto the thrashing woman. ”You don’t want to catch an assault charge on live television! Drop it!”

The paparazzi surged forward, their flashes strobing like a rave as they scrambled to capture Aria’s publicist trying to assault Bella Vale.

Suddenly, the overhead lights flickered and died.

BZZZT.

The power to the microphones and the stage lighting was cut. A piercing, deafening siren began to wail overhead, accompanied by blinding white strobe lights pulsing from the fire alarms.

”EVACUATE THE ROOM! CLEAR THE AREA!” the Hotel General Manager roared through a bullhorn, flanked by a dozen hotel security officers. ”THIS PRESS CONFERENCE IS OVER! EVERYONE OUT!”

The sudden darkness and the blaring sirens panicked the crowd. The media flock turned into a stampede, herded out the double doors like cattle. Bella and Lucas were swept away in the frantic mob, swallowed by the sea of retreating journalists.

Within two minutes, the room was entirely empty, save for the blaring alarm and the scattered, overturned folding chairs.

Kai finally set Zoe down on her feet. She dropped the folding chair onto the carpet, her chest heaving, her sleek purple hair a frizzy mess.

Julian stood near the edge of the stage, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to stave off a massive migraine.

Zoe leaned against the wooden podium in the dark, the adrenaline rapidly draining from her veins, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache.

She slowly raised her wrist to check her watch.

It was exactly 2:30 PM.

The media was gone.

The press conference was officially over.

And Aria never arrived.