Her pleated skirt stayed pristine even as her world crumbled—classic CEO Is My Secret Admirer irony. The mother’s gasp, the father’s lunge, the son’s frozen guilt… all choreographed like a tragic ballet. That moment she tugged her skirt? Not nervousness. Defiance. She knew the truth before anyone spoke it. And the phone? Just a prop. The real recording was in their faces. 🎭