(Dilara's

POV)

From where I stood, half-hidden behind a huge oak tree at the edge of the courthouse, I watched Ethan Crawford get eviscerated by his father.

The elder Crawford's face was a deep shade of red, veins bulging at his temples as he jabbed a finger at Ethan's chest. Ethan, for all his smugness, now looked like a scolded child. His shoulders hunched as his father berated him. It was like the weight of his failure was finally sinking in.

"This is what you've done to us, Ethan!" Mr. Crawford roared and his voice carried across the parking lot. "Millions-millions I've spent covering your damn messes. And for what? For it to all come crashing down now?" Ethan, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found, stammered. "Dad, I-"

"Don't you dare!" his father spat. "Do you have any idea what you've cost me? My reputation? My investments in the center? The board's on my back, and now this... this rape case of yours is public! Do you know how many skeletons I've buried to keep your name clean?"

I chuckled softly to myself, but it was bitter. It was almost poetic, watching Ethan's world crumble. The man who had once held so much power over me now looked so small, so insignificant. But this wasn't enough. Not yet.

This wasn't just about me-it never was. It was about every girl he'd hurt, every life he'd shattered. For years, I'd thought I was alone in my pain as I carried the consequences of his actions in silence. But I wasn't alone. And I wasn't silent anymore.

I glanced down at my phone as the notifications from the Facebook group lit up the screen.

*"Thank you for starting this, Dilara."*

*"I've waited so long to tell my story."*

*"We'll fight him together."*

The messages poured in, one after the other. Survivors, women who had been silenced for years, were finally finding their voices.

I had started the group two weeks ago, shortly after publicizing the extent of Ethan's crimes. At first, it was just a handful of us-women I'd tracked down through rumors and networking. But word spread quickly, and now there were dozens. Maybe even hundreds soon.

I tapped into the chat.

*"Ladies, it's time."*

The responses came in immediately.

*"Let's do this."*

*"He won't get away with it."*

*"For the ones who can't fight back."*

My chest tightened as I read the words; anger and hope swelled in me.

This wasn't just about taking Ethan down. It was about sending a message to him, to his father, to every man who thought they could use their power and money to destroy lives.

I turned my gaze back to Ethan. His father had stormed off and left him alone in the parking lot, his head in his hands.

"You're not done falling yet," I murmured to myself. "And I'm going to make sure you hit the ground harder than you ever imagined."

I pocketed my phone and walked away in light and purposeful steps.

This was only the beginning.

...

(Hande's POV)

The travel agency office buzzed with excited chatter and the faint noise of a printer in the background. Eddie and I were sitting across from the travel program coordinator, who had just handed us a thick packet of forms. Eddie groaned dramatically and slumped in his chair. "All this paperwork just to see the world? Can't we just hop on a plane and wing it?"

I smirked and nudged him with my elbow. "Eddie, you barely know how to pack a bag, let alone wing it across multiple countries."

He grinned, leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "That's why I have you, babe. You're the brains, I'm the charm."

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. "The charm that convinced me to do this with you? You should be grateful I don't leave you behind."

The coordinator cleared her throat as he tried to maintain professionalism while she fought back a laugh. "The two of you have quite the dynamic."

"Oh, you have no idea," I said and signed my name on the first form. "He'll probably lose his passport within the first week."

"I will not!" Eddie exclaimed, pretending to be offended. "I'll have it securely in my-" He patted his pockets, then froze. "Wait, where's my wallet?"

I burst out laughing, shaking my head. "Case in point."

As we walked out of the office, Eddie swung his arm around my shoulders. "So, Miss Future Bachelor's Degree Holder, what's the plan? You hit the books, I hit the keyboard, and then we become a world-conquering duo?" "More like I study while you pretend to code and distract me," I teased.

He gasped in mock outrage. "I'll have you know, I'm going to be the best back-end developer this world has ever seen. Just you wait."

"Uh-huh," I said, squinting at him playfully. "And when your first client asks you to debug something, what's your plan?"

He thought for a moment, then grinned. "I'll call you."

I laughed so hard my sides hurt. Despite his goofiness, I couldn't imagine exploring the world with anyone else.

...

(Charlotte's POV)

The streets of Lyon felt colder than I remembered, even in the early summer breeze. Every corner seemed to echo with memories of the center-the bare hallways, the quiet whispers of my roommates, the comfort of their friendship.

A week had passed since I'd returned to France, but it felt like an eternity. I missed them all-Hande's teasing encouragement, Angel's leadership, even Eddie's silly jokes. But most of all, I missed Bundah.

I sighed, reaching for a jar of jam on the supermarket shelf. The mundane tasks of daily life were supposed to help me adjust, but they only made the emptiness sharper.

"Excusez-moi," a familiar voice thick with an accent that sent a jolt through my heart said behind me.

I froze and gripped the jar tightly as I turned around. And there he was-Bundah, standing awkwardly in the middle of the aisle, holding a basket filled with bread and cheese.

"Bundah?" I whispered, barely able to believe my eyes.

He smiled nervously. "Bonjour... uh... comment ça va?"

A shaky laugh bubbled out of me as tears welled up in my eyes. "You're here? You're really here?"

He stepped closer and set the basket down as his hands reached for mine. "I... I missed you, Charlotte. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

I laughed through my tears and gripped his hands tightly. "Me too. Every day."

"And," his voice was trembling slightly as he took a deep breath, "I came here to tell you something important." "What?" I breathed out.

He smiled, that warm, reassuring smile I'd missed so much. "I want to marry you, Charlotte. That's why I'm here."

My jaw dropped, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. "You... what?"

He shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. "I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, what do you say?"noveldrama

I couldn't hold back the laughter and tears as I threw my arms around his neck. "Yes! Yes, Bundah!"

And for the first time since leaving the center, I felt like I was home.

...

(Dilrah's POV)

The courthouse hallway was colder than I expected. Ava sat beside me; her head was bowed, and her hands were twisting the hem of her shirt. She looked like a shadow of herself, and for a moment, I felt a little bit guilty. But it wasn't enough to change my mind.

"I'm leaving after this," I said quietly, keeping my gaze fixed on the tiled floor.

Her head snapped up. Her eyes had widened with a plea. "What do you mean, you're leaving? Where are you going?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted and shrugged. "But I can't stay here. Not with you. Not after everything."

Her face crumpled, and she let out a shaky breath. "Dilrah, I know I messed up. I know I hurt Angel-"

"Hurt her?" I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. "You didn't just hurt her, Ava. You betrayed her. You betrayed all of us."

She flinched, and her hands tightened into fists. "I was desperate, okay? I was trying to save my mom. You know that."

"And I get it," I said, my voice softening just a fraction. "But that doesn't make it right. I followed you for so long, Ava. I believed in you. But now... now I see that being around you isn't helping me. I need to do my own thing, figure out who I am without you pulling the strings."

Her eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, I almost took it back. Almost.

"So that's it?" she whispered. "You're just going to walk away?"

I stood up, adjusting my coat. "Yeah, Ava. I am."

Before I turned to leave, she reached out. "At least... at least tell Angel I'm sorry. Please."

I didn't answer. I just walked away and left her behind in that cold, empty hallway.

...

(Ava's POV)

The hospital smelled of drugs and stale air. It was a shock to me how warm my mother's room actually was. She looked so small in that bed. Her frail body was almost swallowed by the clean white sheets.

Her face lit up when she saw me, and for a moment, I forgot about everything-the trial, the betrayals, the prison sentence knocking on my door. All that mattered was her smile.

"Ava," she said weakly. "You came."

"Of course I did, Mom," I said and forced a smile as I sat down beside her. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

We talked about little things-her favorite nurse, the flowers in the garden outside her window, the cat she'd had when she was a girl. I clung to every word, memorizing the sound of her voice and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. But as the minutes ticked by, my guilt grew heavier. She didn't know. She didn't know what I'd done for her, the deals I'd made, the lives I'd ruined. And she never would.

"You've always been such a good girl, Ava," her hand was trembling as she reached for mine. "So strong, so kind. I'm so proud of you."

Her words hit me like a knife to the chest, and I had to bite my lip to keep from sobbing.

I stayed with her until her breathing grew shallow and her grip on my hand loosened. She didn't ask about the trial, about my future, about the darkness I'd wrapped myself in to keep her alive. And I didn't tell her.

As her eyes fluttered shut for the last time, she whispered, "I love you, Ava. Always."

"I love you too, Mom," I choked out.

When the monitor flatlined, I sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding her hand as the tears finally fell.