"Take him. Drag that bastard out of my house!"
Mira's voice rang out like a sword unsheathed sharp, cold, final.
The room didn't quiet it erupted. Rage spilled through the golden walls like fire racing through dry timber, and the guests, once simply entertained, now bayed for blood.
Two officers stormed through the crowd with grim efficiency. Leonard didn't run. He didn't shout. He didn't plead.
He simply stood there, stunned.
Betrayed.
Hollow.
The cuffs clamped around his wrists like iron verdicts, snapping shut with the ruthless sound of a gavel coming down on the bones of his life.
"Move," barked one officer, yanking him forward.
Leonard stumbled, dragged through the ballroom like refuse.
Behind him, Melanie continued her act. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks in cinematic waves, each sob a perfectly pitched note of damning fiction. Her mascara ran just enough to be believable. Her hands trembled just enough to make him look monstrous.
"You're a disgrace, Leonard!"
"Pervert!"
"Rot in hell!"
Phones hovered in the air like judgmental angels, filming his fall from grace in high definition. There would be memes by midnight. Headlines by morning. His life, his name, his soul distilled into hashtags and hot takes.
His knees gave out for a second as he reached the grand entrance of the Dane estate the same threshold he'd once crossed as a groom, as a son-in-law, as someone who belonged.
Not anymore.
Outside, chaos waited.
Reporters swarmed like flies on fresh ruin. Cameras popped in blinding flares. A dozen microphones shoved toward his face, all hungry for a quote, a tear, a breakdown.
"Leonard Dane!"
"Accused of molesting his underage cousin-in-law!"
"Did you do it, Leonard?"
"Are you a predator?"
A reporter barked like a dog in heat, "Smile for us, Romeo!"
Everything happened so quickly. Something that just happened, and there were multiple reporters outside already waiting.
Leonard didn't flinch. His jaw clenched. His eyes stayed ahead.
Because what could he say?
Truth didn't matter anymore.
The world didn't want innocence. It wanted a villain.
And it had found one.
The jail cell smelled like piss and rust and men who'd stopped dreaming.
They threw him in hard. The door slammed shut behind him with a clang that sounded like the end of everything.
He didn't resist.
Didn't cry.
Didn't move.
Just sat in the corner, knees drawn up, wrists still cuffed, heart unspooling in silent chaos.
Melanie.
He kept asking himself Why her? How?
She had smiled at him at family dinners. Called him cousin. Asked him about his favorite movies.
Was that all camouflage?
Was she always a snake, or did someone teach her to strike?
He didn't know.
But something inside him, something old and tired and done, whispered the answer.
Of course she was part of it.
They all were.
The gate rattled.
Leonard looked up, slow and battered.
Officer Briggs.
A walking wall of spite wrapped in a uniform. Bald, broad, with teeth yellowed by chewing tobacco and eyes that glinted with small-man cruelty.
He strutted in like he owned the place.
"Well, look who made the news," he said, popping his gum. "Romeo of the Year."
Leonard didn't answer.
"My daughter watched your little party stream. You look just like her tutor. She cried, you sick bastard."
"I didn't do anything," Leonard muttered. Flat. Low.
Briggs leaned down. His breath reeked of onion rings and rot.
"That's what all of you say."
The punch came without warning.
Leonard's head snapped sideways, stars exploding behind his eyes. Blood smeared across the cold concrete. His ribs flared with pain from the second blow. He curled without thinking.
Briggs crouched beside him.
"Was it worth it?" he whispered. "Those five seconds of fake love? Of getting off on power you didn't earn?"
Leonard coughed. Spit blood. Then laughed. Hollow and bitter.
"You don't know a damn thing."
Briggs sneered. "I know this: you're trending now. But in a week, someone prettier will take your place. You'll be forgotten. A footnote."
He stood, towering.
"Enjoy hell, Romeo."
And he left.
The door slammed shut again.
Silence.
The kind of silence that settles over the grave of a man still breathing.
Leonard wiped the blood from his lip. Winced. His ears rang. His ribs screamed. His entire body felt wrong like it belonged to someone else now.
But worse than the pain?
The helplessness.
He'd been undone by lies.
Unmade by a smile and a sob.
Ruined by people who wore his last name like a mask.
He lowered his head, breathing shallowly.
Then
Buzz.
A flicker. Not sound. Not quite light.
But something.
He blinked.
There on the wall in front of him floated something impossible.
A message.
Not on the wall. Not written.
Just hovering. Suspended in the air like a glitch in reality.
Glowing. Subtle. Real.
[Judgment Protocol Detected]
Subject: Leonard Dane
Status: Framed | Betrayed | Humiliated
Do you wish to activate the Judgment Protocol?
[YES] / [NO]
He stared.
Unblinking.
Not breathing.
His lip trembled. His bruised ribs rose and fell, sharp with every breath.
What the hell was this?
A hallucination?
A breakdown?
A joke?
But it didn't feel like any of those.
It felt… personal.
Like something ancient had finally taken notice.
He reached out. Hesitant. Fingers trembling.
As they neared the message, another flicker.
Warning:
Activation is irreversible.
Judgment begins once truth is chosen.
Leonard's heart pounded like a war drum. The rest of the cell vanished. There was only this him and the choice.
Everything in his life had been taken.
His wife.
His name.
His dignity.
His future.
All ripped away by a lie.
And they laughed while it happened.
They planned it.
They enjoyed it.
And now something whatever it was offered him a choice.
A way back?
Or a way through?
His finger hovered over the pulsing word.
YES.
And then
He said it aloud.
One word. Barely more than a whisper.
But it cracked through the air like a vow.
"…Yes."