The judge was nearing the end of the session when the atmosphere shifted abruptly.
Rita's breathing grew uneven, her fingers curled into claws against the table.
Suddenly, she stood.
"Tiffany!" she screamed, lunging toward Tiffany.
But Tiffany shot to her feet quickly.
"It was you!" Rita shrieked hysterically. "You attacked me in the dressing room! You were jealous because I'm carrying Brother Marco's child! You wanted me to lose my baby!"
The medical attendant tried to restrain her, but grief had hollowed Rita into something volatile.
"You ugly witch, there were no cameras in that room!" Tiffany screamed, face contorting. "I only pushed you a little. How could you possibly have a miscarriage? Don't think you can pin everything on me!"
The courtroom erupted.
Gasps ricocheted off the walls. Reporters nearly leapt from their seats.
"You just wanted my husband's sympathy!" Tiffany shrieked, her voice scraping the air raw. "How vicious can you be? You gave up your own child just to blame me and make Brother Marco divorce me? In your dreams, bitch!"
The insult landed with a sickening finality.
Rita released a broken, animalistic cry and lunged again, tears streaming unchecked, grief and rage fused into something feral.
Security intervened swiftly, restraining both women before claws met skin.
The judge slammed the gavel repeatedly.
"Order! Order in the court!"
Eventually, they were forced back into their seats, though the venom in their glares could have dissolved steel.
Minutes later, the verdict was delivered.
With substantial evidence and testimonies from multiple victims of sustained bullying, the ruling was severe.
Tiffany, an adult and primary instigator, was sentenced to five years in prison.
Rita, as an accomplice, received three.
For a heartbeat, the courtroom felt suspended in disbelief.
Then Tiffany exploded.
"Five years?!" she screamed, eyes bulging. "This is ridiculous! You're bowing to public pressure! This is injustice!"
Her voice cracked as she ranted, condemning the judge, the prosecution, the media, anyone within earshot.
Originally, she might have received one to three years. But one of the students she had relentlessly tormented, a scholarship recipient who had clawed her way into SC through sheer merit, had eventually taken her own life.
That tragedy had weighed heavily on the court's decision.
Rita, too, could not escape responsibility.
Yet unlike Tiffany, Rita did not thrash. After a brief, stunned silence, she began to laugh, hollow and brittle.
"Congratulations," Rita said coldly, turning toward Tiffany. "You'll be spending your honeymoon in prison. Five years. What a perfect vacation."
The memory of the hospital still lingered vividly in her mind.
When she regained consciousness and realized she had miscarried, something inside her shattered permanently. She had called the police immediately, naming Tiffany as the culprit.
Unfortunately, the evidence was circumstantial yet compelling. There had been surveillance footage in the hallway, but none inside the dressing room.
At her lowest, Marco had come to see her looking devastated and grieving.
But his words betrayed him.
He had pleaded with her not to pursue the case against Tiffany. For the sake of his reputation and for the sake of appearances.
Rita remembered the fury that surged through her veins, so intense she had blacked out again.
Even then, Marco had not changed his stance. If Tiffany went to prison, his standing in society would crumble.
That was the moment Rita woke up, truly woke up.
The man she had fought for, schemed for, lost herself for, was not worth the ashes of her dignity.
She had gone too deep into madness and called it love.
In the end, whether she withdrew or not, Tiffany was going to prison anyway.
And Marco?
He was absent from the courtroom because he himself was currently detained for his own dubious affairs, still under investigation.
If he were sentenced as well, husband and wife would reunite behind bars.
A twisted kind of marital harmony.
Security dragged Tiffany toward the exit as she alternated between threats and sobs.
Unfortunately for her, both the Rhian and Fabian families were drowning in their own crises.
Businesses were collapsing, investments had soured and alliances were dissolving like sugar in rain.
After Tiffany married Marco, her family had largely washed their hands of her scandals, too preoccupied with salvaging their own sinking ship.
Meanwhile, Marco had been clinging to the hope that Tiffany's family would leverage their influence to pull him out.
After all, in terms of status, the Rhian family had always outshone his own. That was precisely why he had married Tiffany in the first place.
That afternoon, Marco sat in a detention center, waiting eagerly for his lawyer to bring good news.
Instead, the lawyer delivered a single, devastating update: Tiffany had been sentenced to five years in prison.
Marco's face drained of color.
The ladder he had climbed so carefully had snapped beneath his feet.
He had endured Tiffany's tantrums, polished her sharp edges just enough, fed her vanity when needed and tightened the leash when it suited him. She had been foolish, yes, but easy to weaponize.
Now none of it mattered.
Worse, as his lawful wife, she might drag him into the abyss with her.
He gripped his hair, fingers trembling.
"Did you find a way to contact the youngest of the Lin family?" he asked abruptly.
The lawyer's expression darkened.
After what happened to Leo Nafplion, the Lin family had placed their youngest son under constant surveillance, even after sending him abroad.
And that was not all. The students involved in the hiking club scandal had been rounded up for soliciting prostitution and organizing obscene gatherings.
The day after Marco's wedding fiasco, SC University issued expulsion notices without hesitation.
Connections Marco once believed unshakable evaporated overnight.
Men who toasted with him last month now avoided his calls. Some even sent polite but icy warnings through intermediaries.
It would not be an exaggeration to say Tiffany's notoriety had cost him dearly.
How had he miscalculated so disastrously?
Why had he chosen a vicious fool instead of someone useful?
Someone gentle and intelligent.
Someone like Yeri.
"Yeri…" he muttered, eyes sharpening. "That's right. Yeri Zhi. The daughter of Zhi Corporation's CEO. She's with Shin Keir. Go ask her to see me."
The lawyer blinked. "Did you just say Shin Keir?"
Marco spoke rapidly, the pieces in his head clicking with manic urgency.
"You said she's dating Shin Keir," the lawyer said slowly. "If that's true, why would she help you?"
He couldn't understand. Where was the connection?
Marco shook his head impatiently. "It's not her. It's him. As long as it's business, he won't reject it outright. If you can contact Yeri, tell her I'm willing to hand over the Fabian business to Shin Keir."
The lawyer stared at him.
Was he truly offering to betray his own family's livelihood just to save himself?
"Marco," the lawyer said carefully, "this might work with first tier families. Even the three noble families. But what makes you think someone like Shin Keir would care about the Fabians?"
Marco's eyes flashed. "How would you know if you don't try? Aren't you my lawyer? Do your job."
"...."
Reluctantly, the lawyer agreed. Though doubt clung to him like damp fabric.
—
The next day, after wrestling with his conscience, he went to Zhi Corp but was told the CEO was unavailable.
He drove instead to the Zhi manor only to find bodyguards lined the entrance like iron statues.
Not decorative security but the kind that assessed threats by instinct and ended them by reflex.
A chill slid down his spine.
Had he overlooked something crucial? Were the Zhis operating within a different jurisdiction of power?
He quickly turned the steering wheel to leave but a man had already approached, knocking sharply on his window.
"Who are you?" the man demanded, eyes sharp enough to carve stone.
The lawyer swallowed.
"I… I would like to discuss an important personal… I mean business matter with Miss Yeri Zhi."
The man's gaze hardened. He yanked open the car door and pulled the lawyer out by his collar effortlessly.
"Why are you looking for Miss Zhi? Today is her engagement day. Who sent you?"
"Engagement?!" The lawyer's mind blanked.
"I have no bad intentions! I didn't know she was getting engaged. I only wish to speak with her- "
From the grand doorway, another figure emerged.
"What are you doing?" he snapped. "Stop biting people for no reason. Let him go."
The first guard released him with a grunt.
The lawyer hurriedly straightened his suit, offering a shaky nod of gratitude.
And then he saw it.
On the man's side neck, partially visible beneath the collar, was Hexion crest inked in black.
So Marco had not been hallucinating ambition into thin air. The Zhis truly had dealings with Shin Keir.
"I… I'll come back some other time," the lawyer said quickly.
Engagement days were not ideal for desperate negotiations.
The second man studied him. "You can tell me what it's about. I'll pass the message."
The lawyer hesitated then nodded.
The man's gaze flickered once while listening. No surprise, no curiosity.
—
At the penthouse, chaos bloomed like an overwatered garden.
Stylists circled and assistants fluttered.
A designer adjusted fabric by millimeters. The engagement planner rehearsed timing with militant precision.
And in the center of it all stood Yeri. She faced the floor to ceiling mirror, expression vacant.
Being confined to the penthouse for days had ignited a slow, simmering fury in her chest.
Although Shin Keir had returned two nights ago, he had not come to explain, not even a tinge of apology.
Instead, he locked himself in the study like some aloof monarch reviewing invisible treaties.
If she had not barged in, he might have continued his silent vanishing act, present at night, gone by dawn.
And when she confronted him about confining her without permission, he had acted as if it were natural.
When she asked if it had anything to do with Xian Song, he had calmly turned the blade back on her.
"Do you think so highly of him," he had asked, "that he occupies your thoughts so often?"
Yeri "..."
Infuriating.
Deflective.
Utter nonsense.
"My princess," Madam Zhi cooed warmly, stepping beside her reflection. "You look beautiful."
Yeri blinked and forced a smile that did not reach her eyes.