“After the ambulance left,” Julian said, his jaw tight, “I found Elise crying near the coat room. She had recorded something on her phone before the push. I told her to hold onto it.” He paused, then said the sentence that turned my stomach cold. “Delphine didn’t just shove you. She said something first, and my daughter caught every word of it.”

I pressed the phone harder against my ear. On the screen, Julian slid the recording toward me and told me to listen for myself. The audio crackled, then cleared. I heard the party, the music, the clink of glasses. And then, beneath all of it, my sister’s voice, low and calm, saying words I never imagined anyone could say about their own sibling right before doing it.