Zhan's Pov.
Today was the first court hearing. And I was barely holding it together.
The car ride was silent, the kind of silence that pressed against your ribs and made it hard to breathe. My hands were cold, clenched together in my lap, but my head felt hot, like my thoughts were on fire, crashing into each other, screaming over the noise.
What if they sent me back?
What if this never ends?
What if... what if I saw him again?
The thought of Wang standing in that courtroom with his new ring, his new wife, his new life.
God.
I felt like I was being unraveled from the inside.
Then Dre's voice broke through the thick air between us.
"You good?" he asked finally.
I let out a dry, bitter laugh. "What a stupid question."
He didn't argue. Just nodded. "Yeah. But I had to ask."
We kept driving. I didn't even realize I had been gripping the edge of the seat until my fingers started to ache. I stared out the window like the world outside could offer me some version of peace. It didn't
Minutes passed before I said what had been gnawing at me for days.
"After the court hearing... I'm leaving."
Dre jerked slightly. "What?"
"I'm leaving," I repeated, voice firmer this time. "Wang has a new life now. A wife. A... family. He doesn't need me lingering around like some ghost from a mistake he made."
"Zhan," Dre said, his voice calm but weighted, "you weren't a mistake."
I gave him a small, empty smile. "Maybe not to us. But to them? I was a stain. Something they were desperate to scrub out."
Dre's jaw clenched. "Wang loves you."
"I know," I whispered. And I won't stay behind like some forgotten dream haunting his future.
Dre didn't speak for a moment. Just watched me like he wanted to argue but knew he couldn't.
"You sure this is what you want?" he asked finally.
I looked out the window again. "What I want stopped mattering the day I got arrested."
Dre sighed deeply and rubbed his hand over his face. "You're stronger than all of them put together, you know that?"
I smiled sadly. "Then why does it still feel like I lost?"
He had no answer.
And maybe there wasn't one.
The courthouse loomed ahead, grey and distant like the last chapter of a book I didn't want to finish. Dre parked in silence, his knuckles pale around the steering wheel. I didn't move immediately. My hands were trembling again.
We stepped out, the sound of our shoes clicking against the pavement swallowed by the buzz of reporters behind barricades. Cameras flashed, voices shouted names, and I lowered my head. Dre moved closer, shielding me as best as he could.
But still, I felt bare.
Inside, the courtroom was colder than I imagined. Sanitized. Clinical. Like they wanted to strip you of anything human before deciding your fate.
I sat there, heart thudding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. The world around me felt blurry like I was underwater and everything above the surface was moving too fast. I clenched my fists in my lap, willing myself not to crumble.
Two lawyers walked in and took their seats beside me.
One, I recognized immediately.
Mr. Fengmian.
He didn't look at me. Just adjusted his tie and opened his folder, like we hadn't once talked. Like I hadn't once trusted him. Betrayal wasn't always loud. Sometimes it sat beside you, calm and professional, wearing a navy suit.
The second was a woman, slim, with sharp cheekbones and tightly tied grey hair. Her glasses perched perfectly on her nose, and she glanced at me only once, offering a brief, unreadable nod.
She didn't need to say anything. Her presence said enough.
Reinforcement.
Insurance.
Control.
The opposing lawyer whispered something to a woman dressed in dark green beside her, it took me a second to realize it was Meng. She didn't even glance in my direction.
And then I saw him.
Wang.
He entered with his mother on one side and Lusi on the other, looking like a prince dressed for execution. He wore a charcoal suit, his tie perfect. But what caught me off guard, what twisted the knife deeper.
He was still wearing the silver ring I gave him.
The one he never took off.
Even now.
Even married.
Our eyes met for a split second before he looked away. Just like that, the weight in my chest returned. I swallowed hard, anchoring myself with what little dignity I had left.
No tears.
No weakness.
Let them see I survived.
The judge entered, and everyone rose. I followed out of instinct, but my knees shook slightly. I could feel Dre's eyes on me from the gallery. I didn't dare look back.
This was it.
The beginning of the end... or the start of something else.
And I didn't know which one terrified me more.
The courtroom was still, the air tense with anticipation.
A court officer stepped forward, clearing his throat. "The court calls Zhan Xiao to the stand."
My name echoed louder than it should have, slicing through the silence like a blade. Every heartbeat felt like thunder in my chest as I slowly stood.
I could feel eyes on me, hundreds of them but I didn't look around. My legs were heavy, but I moved forward, one step at a time, like walking toward judgment.
When I reached the witness box, the bailiff approached, holding out a small Bible.
"Place your right hand on the Bible," he instructed.
I did.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
My throat tightened. I looked down at my hand, then up at the man. My voice, though hoarse, was steady.
"I do."
The bailiff nodded and stepped aside. I sat down slowly, the wood beneath me cool and solid, grounding me.
Fengmian finally glanced my way, and for the briefest moment, his eyes softened.
But I didn't want softness.
I wanted the truth.
And if no one in this room was going to give it to me, then I'd find a way to speak it myself.
The microphone in front of me hummed softly as I adjusted it, my fingers trembling just a little. I folded my hands on my lap, waiting.
Waiting to tell the truth I had carried alone for far too long.
The courtroom was packed, but it wasn't just the press or curious strangers that filled the space. It was them.
Meng Ziyi, sitting straight-backed with a cold, unreadable expression.
Wen Xu, arms crossed, mouth tight, like he already knew how this would end.
Xue Yang, a half-smirk dancing on his lips, like he thought this was all a game.
Jin Zixuan, rigid in his seat, eyes fixed ahead, trying not to look at me.
Wen Chao, arrogant as ever, whispered something smug to the man beside him.
They were all there.
All of them... except Yu Bin.
For a second, I scanned the room again, just to be sure.
Of all the faces I expected, his absence struck deeper than I'd admit.
The tension wrapped around me like a noose as I settled in the witness box, the weight of their presence pressing down on my shoulders. My chest tightened. Every memory, every scar, every lie, they were all here in this room, dressed in sharp suits and smug expressions.
But I was done being afraid.
Let them watch. Let them listen. I had sworn to tell the truth. And for once, they were going to hear it.
When I was done speaking, when every word had finally left my lips like jagged glass tearing its way out, there was a heavy silence in the courtroom.
Fengmian didn't flinch.
Not once.
His face stayed calm, his hands folded neatly on the table before him. He'd heard this story before, back when I was first dragged into that interrogation room in Canada, my wrists bruised and my voice broken. Maybe he didn't care, or maybe he just knew how to hide things better than the rest. Either way, he didn't move.
But the others did.
I heard it, a gasp, chairs scraping, the faintest sob muffled by a hand. Murmurs spread like wildfire. A few people leaned in to whisper. Some looked away, unable to meet my eyes. And others... the victims parents just stared, horrified.
A woman in the back wiped her eyes, sniffling. One of the younger interns covering the trial visibly shook his head, jaw clenched like he wanted to punch someone. Even Jin Zixuan's gaze had softened. He lowered his eyes. Shame? Maybe. Or pity.
I couldn't tell if the tears in the room were real or just for show. Did they cry because they finally saw me, or because the story fit too neatly into their headlines?
I didn't know.
And honestly, I didn't care.
Because for once, they weren't looking at me like I was a criminal. They were looking at me like I was a person. A hurt, broken, angry, betrayed person.
And even if just for a moment... that was enough.
The court dragged on for hours, each second stretching longer than the last.
The air felt thicker with every word spoken, every objection raised, and every folder slammed shut on the wooden tables. My eyes burned from exhaustion, and my back ached from sitting too stiffly for too long.
Meng Ziyi and her team? I had to admit, their lawyers were good. Ruthlessly good. Sharp-tongued, quick-thinking, and brutal in their delivery. Their lawyers moved like predators in silk suits, dissecting every line of testimony with surgical precision.
They twisted timelines, pulled out phone records, and leaned heavily on "lack of evidence" in places I knew the truth lived.
There were moments I watched them speak and thought, They might win.
At some point, when the slim woman with the grey hair flipped through her binder and presented an old picture of me, I felt something inside me falter.
Hope.
It cracked. Quietly. Like a whisper inside my chest.
I clenched my fists on my lap, nails digging into my palms, trying to stay focused, to stay upright, to stay whole. But there was this voice, low and persistent in the back of my head saying:
What if this was all for nothing?
What if they win? Again?
What if Wang gave up, and you're still the villain in their story?
I glanced across the room once, and for a second, just one second, I wanted to stand up and walk out. Let them have the win. Let them call me a liar. Let them bury me.
But then I remembered his eyes across the glass. The way he whispered, "Don't give up."
And I knew I had to keep going. Even if I was barely holding on.
The courtroom shifted. The buzz of side conversations died down as the slim, grey-haired woman adjusted her glasses and rose to her feet with quiet authority. Her presence didn't demand attention but it commanded it.
She picked up a leather folder and walked to the center of the courtroom with a grace that betrayed experience.
"I could call every one of them to the stand," she said calmly, her voice steady, "but instead, I will present our case as one cohesive narrative uninterrupted and irrefutable."
She handed the folder to the clerk, who took it with a respectful nod. "We are submitting the following into evidence," she said, turning slightly toward the judge.
With each item she named, the projector screen at the side of the courtroom flickered to life.
"Exhibit A."
A couple of photographs appeared of me, younger, barely recognizable, my face battered and bruised. A timestamp in the corner.
"These photos were taken at a medical facility in Jeju island. He was 17." She didn't need to say more. The image spoke for itself.
"Exhibit B."
Medical receipts. The name is written clearly on them. Each one detailed injuries consistent with blunt force trauma, dehydration, and... burns.
Gasps echoed quietly.
"Hospital reports," she explained, holding up printed copies. "He was admitted 30 times over two years. No official complaints were filed because, as noted in his psychological evaluation, he feared retaliation."
"Exhibit C."
A grainy video played next. The room went still.
My voice came through, shakier, younger, arguing with someone offscreen. The sound of something smashing. A scream.
"I SAID STOP!" I yelled in the footage. A boy barely holding it together.
Then, in the corner of the screen, Meng Ziyi appeared briefly, face twisted with fury as she lunged toward me.
And then came the next set of videos.
I wanted to look away. God, I wanted to. But I couldn't.
The screen flickered, and suddenly it was me again, shaking, bruised, barely able to stand. My voice was hoarse in the recording, begging. "Please... please don't make me..."
A voice offscreen snapped, "Shut up and do what we told you."
Another voice—Xue Yang's—mocked, "He should be grateful. Some people would pay to get this kind of attention." Then came the sound of laughter. Footsteps. My cry.
I remember that day. I remember the smell of the room, the humiliation, the way the door was locked behind me. The way they passed me around like a thing.
Someone in the courtroom gasped. A chair scraped as someone stood. I didn't dare look up.
But I heard it.
Mrs. Wang's horrified whisper: "Oh my God..."
And then Mr. Wang's voice, low, cold, like he was trying not to be sick: "This is what he's been through?"
I didn't want their pity.
I didn't want them to see me like that, broken, stripped of dignity, dragged through the mud like I was nothing. I just wanted to disappear.
But it was all out now.
Every video. Every bruise. Every moment I begged and bled and they laughed.
The slim lawyer stood tall beside the screen, calm but seething, her voice slicing through the tension.
"You wanted the truth. Here it is. You wanted to know why Zhan Xiao was silent. Why he never spoke. Why he flinched at kindness. Why he couldn't look you in the eye? This is why."
I closed my eyes.
And for a second, I felt like I was dying all over again. But this time, someone else finally watched it happen.
The room broke into murmurs again.
She let it simmer before continuing.
"Exhibit D."
A stack of handwritten letters. Photocopies were passed around to the jury.
"These were written by the defendant to Mr. Zhan while he was underage. Some contain threats. Others... disturbing language that I will not repeat aloud. But the court may read them in full."
"Exhibit E."
Bank statements. Wire transfers. Large sums of money are being moved between their parents and my mom. "Money that aligns with the timeline of the bribes and silence payments," she explained.
And with that, she returned to her seat. But the silence she left behind was deafening.
The slim, grey-haired lawyer didn't sit just yet.
She moved back to the table, calm and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world. Her fingers brushed over a sleek iPad already awake in her hands. I watched her, heart hammering, mouth dry. She didn't need to say anything as the bailiff connected it to the courtroom screen. The silence was louder than any argument.
The screen blinked once. Then again.
And then, me.
Younger. Frailer. My face was a blur of fear and tears. My voice was silent, but the voices around me weren't.
"Do it!"
"You want us to beat you again?!"
"If you don't do it, I swear we'll make you regret ever being born."
I couldn't breathe.
My fingers clenched in my lap, nails digging into my skin as I watched myself reduced to something I barely recognized. In the videos, I trembled and did as I was told, too scared to fight back. Push them in the swamp or we will push you inside.
There was one clip where I just curled up in the corner, sobbing while they laughed. That laughter... it echoed, even now. Louder than the courtroom murmurs rising around me.
Then the scene shifted.
A new video.
Clearer. Brighter. Someone's party drinks everywhere.
Meng Ziyi on a couch, legs crossed, swirling a wine glass. Wen Xu. Wen Chao. Xue Yang. Jin Zixuan. All lounging like kings and queens of cruelty.
"Remember when we made him bark like a dog?" Meng laughed. "That little bitch thought he could say no."
I wanted to disappear.
Someone else chimed in, gleeful. "I still have that video! Had to rename it 'homework' so my mom wouldn't find it."
They laughed.
They laughed.
Wen Chao raised his drink. "To silence. To secrets. And to our little puppet, may he never grow a spine."
Then Meng looked into the camera, eyes glassy with alcohol and arrogance, and said in a low, vicious voice:
"If he ever opens his mouth, we'll bury him."
The courtroom erupted. Gasps. Whispers. Someone sobbed.
But I just... sat there. Frozen.
I didn't cry. I couldn't. My tears had dried out somewhere between survival and shame. But hearing it, seeing it like this...
The judge leaned forward and asked if the videos were real.
The lawyer didn't flinch. "All video data has been authenticated," she said. "The metadata confirms the dates and original devices. None of this was edited. These are their own words, their own iPad. Their recordings. Their crimes."
The screen went dark.
And then she turned to the room, her voice slicing through the heavy air like a blade. This is not a story of one victim. This is a system of cruelty. Carefully curated. Repeatedly justified. Hidden under wealth, power, and silence. And today, that silence is broken."
For the first time in a long time, I felt something shift.
It wasn't a victory.
It wasn't hope.
But it was something.
And maybe... maybe that was enough for now.
I couldn't turn my head to look anywhere. Not the jury. Not the gallery. Not even at the judge.
My eyes stayed glued to my trembling hands resting on my lap. Shame settled on me like a thick fog. It weighed down every breath, every thought. My whole body felt like it didn't belong to me anymore. I was exposed. Every wound peeled open. Every humiliation was made public. I was stripped bare in front of strangers... and him.
Then I heard Fengmian's voice beside me, low and steady.
"Relax."
That one word snapped something in my brain.
They had all the evidence.
They always had it.
Every photo. Every receipt. Every video. They gathered it all up not to protect me, not to help me but to keep me away from him. They wanted leverage. They wanted to use the truth as a weapon against me. Bury me with the very pain I dread.
What a cruel, twisted world.
And now that same truth was the only thing standing between me and the bars that almost closed on my life.
I'll be a free man.
But not whole. Not happy.
Not with the love of my life.
Wang...
He's married now.
He chose my freedom over us. Respectability over truth. Lusi over love.
The tears that stung behind my eyes weren't from fear anymore. They were from grief. For a life I imagined. A love I held too tightly. A future that would never be mine.
I'll walk out of here a free man.
But it won't feel like freedom.
And I hate that he did it to keep me out of prison.
I hate that somewhere in his heart, he still wanted to protect me, even if it meant destroying both of us in the process.
He married her... not out of love, but out of sacrifice.
And that should've made it easier.
But it didn't.
Because knowing that he gave me my freedom by chaining himself to someone else, by ripping us apart with his own hands, hurt in a way no courtroom ever could.
It wasn't a clean cut.
It was jagged. Brutal. A wound that would never heal right.
And what kills me most...
Is that if he asked me to, even now, I'd do it all again. Even knowing how it ends.