Naomi didn't go home that night.
She drove past the house twice before pulling into a quiet street and killing the engine. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel, chest tight, breath shallow. Every instinct told her to turn back—pretend nothing was wrong, let time bury what fear had started.
But time hadn't buried anything.
It had sharpened it.
Her phone buzzed again.
A: I'm here.
Naomi swallowed and replied with a single word.
Where?
Cedric stood against the wall during evening count, eyes forward, body still. The guard moved past him, pausing just long enough to whisper.
"You're popular."
Cedric didn't react.
Popularity in prison never meant anything good.
Later, back in the cell, the man from the lower bunk spoke again. "Word moves fast in here. People think your case might flip."
Cedric's pulse jumped. "Why?"
The man shrugged. "Because people outside are nervous. And nervous people talk."
Cedric lay back, staring at the ceiling.
For the first time, fear didn't sit alone in his chest.
Hope had joined it.
Amanda waited in her car two streets away from Naomi's campus. When Naomi approached, her steps hesitant, Amanda didn't rush her.
She simply opened the passenger door.
Naomi got in and closed it slowly.
They sat in silence.
"I can't sleep," Naomi whispered at last. "Every time I close my eyes, I hear his voice."
Amanda didn't ask which voice.
"I didn't think it would go this far," Naomi continued. "I thought… I thought they'd scare him. Make him leave."
Her shoulders shook. "I didn't know he'd go to prison."
Amanda's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"But you let it happen," she said gently.
Naomi nodded, tears spilling freely now. "My mom said if I didn't do it, everything would fall apart."
Amanda turned to her. "And did it?"
Naomi laughed brokenly. "No. It just poisoned everything."
Amanda reached out, resting her hand over Naomi's trembling one.
"The truth hurts," she said. "But lies destroy."
Naomi looked at her then—really looked.
"I want to fix it," she said. "I don't know how… but I want to tell the truth."
Amanda exhaled slowly.
"Then we start tonight."
Monica sensed it before she knew it.
The house felt wrong when she stepped inside—too quiet, too exposed. She called Naomi's name once.
No answer.
Ella sat stiffly on the couch, eyes darting.
"Where is your sister?" Monica asked.
Ella hesitated.
That was all it took.
Monica's voice dropped. "What did you do?"
Ella stood abruptly. "I didn't do anything. But maybe she will."
The slap came fast.
Ella staggered back, shock written across her face.
Monica stood over her, breathing hard. "Fear makes people strong," she hissed. "Weakness destroys families."
Ella's eyes filled with tears—not from pain, but from realization.
This wasn't protection.
It was control.
Duncan received the call while standing in his office.
"We need to talk," the lawyer said. "Now."
Duncan didn't ask why.
When he arrived, Amanda was already there.
And Naomi.
She stood rigid, hands clasped, eyes red but steady.
"I lied," Naomi said the moment he walked in.
The words hit harder than any shout.
"I lied about Cedric," she continued. "He never touched me. I was told to say it."
Duncan's knees nearly buckled.
Amanda closed her eyes.
The lawyer was already recording.
"Who told you?" he asked.
Naomi's voice shook—but didn't break.
"My mother."
In prison, Cedric felt it before he heard it.
The air shifted.
The guard returned, unlocking his cell. "Pack up."
Cedric's heart slammed. "Where am I going?"
The guard didn't answer. But his expression had changed.
Less cold.
Less certain.
As Cedric stepped out, the man from the lower bunk nodded once.
"Told you," he said. "Pressure breaks things."
Cedric walked forward, chains light against his wrists.
Somewhere beyond the walls, the first skull had cracked.
And the lie—
Was bleeding.