"I loved you, Lewis," she cried, lowering her hands just enough for her bloodshot eyes to meet his.
"Even through all the rumors, even through all the shadows. I loved you. And this is what you've given me back—humiliation, shame, a daughter who can't even look at her father without hate."
Lewis's shoulders sagged for the first time. His mask cracked, his defiance faltering under the weight of her words.
For a fleeting second, guilt etched itself into his features.
But the officers pulled again, and this time he didn't resist.
The heavy doors creaked open, and the roar of the crowd outside crashed into the mansion like a wave.
Reporters screamed his name, cameras flashed wildly, and the shouted questions were merciless:
"Mr. Jenkins! Did you order the murder of Logan's father?"
"Do you have ties to the Steve family?"
"Is Rachel complicit in your crimes?"
The voices blurred together into a chaotic storm as Lewis was escorted down the grand steps.
