The final wave hit like a storm nobody saw coming.
By morning the three friends were done. One turned himself in on live stream, sobbing, shaking, reading a confession he’d written in the dark while nightmares clawed at him. He admitted everything: the drugs, the r***s, holding Lena down while Julian laughed. The second got arrested at the airport trying to run; police found videos on his phone that matched the leaked ones. The third broke in his penthouse—cops found him curled in the shower, wrists bleeding from shallow cuts he’d made himself, whispering “they’re coming for me” over and over.
Julian’s father was facing a sentence of twenty years minimum for obstruction, bribery, and his own stash of underage exploitation files. The empire crumbled. Stocks tanked. Properties seized. The
