I left that night. The last thing I did was write to the real Celia: "I'm so sorry. I believe you."
Her reply was a gut punch: "Now you know. You were part of the show."
The deepest cut wasn't the lie. It was my complicity. I wasn't just a victim; I was his weapon. He didn't just break my heart. He made me an accomplice in the slow, cruel murder of his sister's peace. And that's a guilt you can't outrun.