The headlines came fast.
Too fast.
FALSE TESTIMONY IN HIGH-PROFILE CASE
CONVICTION UNDER REVIEW — FAMILY DIVIDED
Monica watched the news from the edge of the couch, remote loose in her hand. Every channel said her name without saying it. Every pause between sentences felt like an accusation.
She had survived gossip before.
This was different.
This wasn't noise.
This was exposure.
Amanda stood in Cedric's room, helping him unpack the last of his things. Sunlight poured through the window like it had something to prove.
"You don't have to rush," she said softly.
Cedric shook his head. "I need to feel normal again. Even if I don't remember what that feels like yet."
Amanda nodded.
Cedric's lawyer spoke calmly, but his eyes were sharp. "We have enough now. False accusation. Emotional distress. Wrongful imprisonment."
Cedric listened.
Then said, "I don't want revenge."
The lawyer raised an eyebrow.
"I want accountability," Cedric continued. "There's a difference."
The lawyer smiled thinly. "That difference changes everything."
Naomi sat alone in her car, hands on the steering wheel, engine off.
She hadn't gone home.
She couldn't.
Her phone buzzed—Ella's name.
Naomi answered.
"I told the truth," Naomi said before Ella could speak.
There was silence on the other end.
Then Ella exhaled. "I know."
Another pause.
"I should've stopped it," Ella whispered. "I saw the cracks early. I just… didn't want to choose sides."
Naomi closed her eyes. "By not choosing, we already did."
The line stayed open.
Sometimes guilt didn't scream.
It sat with you.
Duncan stood in his study, staring at the empty drawer where the folder used to be.
He had handed it to the lawyers himself.
No excuses.
No conditions.
Monica appeared in the doorway.
"You did this," she said.
Duncan didn't turn. "No. I stopped preventing it."
Her laugh was sharp. "You're choosing them over me."
He faced her then. "I'm choosing the truth over the lie. You just happened to be standing on the wrong side of it."
The words landed.
Hard.
Monica stepped back like she'd been struck.
That night, the house felt unfamiliar.
Not haunted.
Exposed.
Monica wandered into Naomi's room.
Empty.
Then Ella's.
Dark.
She ended up in the kitchen, gripping the counter like it might steady her.
Her phone rang.
PRIVATE NUMBER.
She answered.
"Mrs. Duncan," the voice said. Professional. Cold. "This is the district attorney's office. We'd like to speak with you regarding inconsistencies in sworn statements."
Monica's mouth went dry. "I need a lawyer."
There was a pause. "You already do. You might want a better one."
The call ended.
Monica slid into a chair.
This wasn't fear anymore.
This was inevitability.
Cedric stood outside later that night, city lights blinking in the distance. Amanda joined him, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.
"They're coming undone," she said.
Cedric nodded. "I don't feel happy about it."
Amanda studied him. "That's how I know they didn't break you."
Cedric looked up at the sky. "They tried to bury me with lies."
Amanda smiled faintly. "And forgot you were alive."
Across town, Monica sat alone as sirens passed somewhere far away.
Not for her.
Not yet.
But close enough to remind her—
Truth doesn't rush.
It waits.
And when it moves…
It cracks foundations.