On Zo’s screen, an article is open. Photos of Avi and Zo from their younger years at a party. Photos of Avi with her parents. Smiling. Unaware.
The headline reads: Marrying the Girl He Called Sister: The Dirty Life of the Rich.
My stomach twists.
Below it are the comments.
“They kept her hidden so they could do this incest without anyone knowing. Leeches of society.”
My brows pull together.
“They hid her so no one would know their adopted son was fucking their daughter for who knows how long. Creeps.”
Another one.
“They should have let him rot in that basement where they rescued him from. It would’ve saved the Bennett name.”
I avert my gaze, unable to read any further. Anger coils tight in my chest. Wen is holding Avi, murmuring to her, trying to calm her shaking body. I can’t do that right now. I don’t trust myself to speak gently.
I hate people like this, people who know nothing about the truth, nothing about the lives they’re tearing apart, yet speak with mouths full of rot.
I pull out my phone, open the browser, find the article, and scroll straight to the comments.
I start replying. To the woman with grey hair who wrote that Zo should’ve been left to rot in a basement, I type: “The way youspeak is inhumane. It’s people like you who deserve to rot in hell.”
Next, the creeps comment. “How can your mind even go there? Maybe you’re the one who fucked your own sibling.”I know I don’t sound like a civilized human being anymore. I don’t care. I’m furious.
The grey-haired woman replies to my comment: “People like you, who support such things, are ruining society.”
My fingers fly over the screen, a dull headache building right between my brows as they knot together. “I am damn sure you don’t give a single shit about society,” I type back. “Tell me, what have you ever done for society apart from picking at people from behind a screen?”
A hand wraps around my shoulder. I jerk my head up and find Matleon standing beside me, his gaze already on my phone. He rubs my shoulder slowly.
“Don’t stress yourself,” he says quietly. “We’ll deal with these people.”
Then he turns away from me and walks toward Avi, who is wiping her nose with trembling fingers. Zo and Wen have calmed her a lot.
Matleon pulls out a chair and sits in front of her. He takes her hands in his.
“Is what they’re saying true?” he asks.
She shakes her head immediately, tears pooling again.
“Then do their words matter?”
“They still hurt,” she mutters, her voice hoarse, raw from crying.
“They hurt,” he says calmly, “because you’re giving them power. I know it’s not like you can snap your fingers and take that power away. But you have to start trying, especially when what they’re saying is nothing but garbage.”
He leans forward slightly. “And whenever you see someone speaking like that, remember this, they are writing among the last words they’ll ever put out.”
Her eyes widen. “Will you kill them?”
For a fraction of a second, Matleon’s gaze flicks toward Zo. Then he shakes his head. “We’ll ban them from the internet.”
It’s a lie. I know it. Zo knows it.
“We’ll keep them in the redemption room for some time,” he continues smoothly, “and then let them go.”
