I hadn’t touched her. I hadn’t even been in the same borough that night. Yet there I stood, hands cuffed behind my back, as the cameras flashed and the district attorney read the charges: sexual assault based on a dream.

The words felt surreal, like a glitch in reality. Across the courtroom, Ethan wouldn’t look at me. Lila sat trembling, wrapped in a blanket, as if she’d survived a war I didn’t know we were fighting.

"Your Honor," my lawyer Sarah said, "this is not evidence. This is fantasy entered into legal record."

The judge adjusted his glasses. "The court acknowledges the unusual nature of the testimony. But the complaint was made in good faith."

Good faith. That phrase echoed as they led me back to the holding cell. My son had signed the affidavit. My blood had turned against me.

Now, two paths lay ahead: fight with everything I have, exposing not just the lie but the broken system that allowed it—or walk away, let the empire I built consume me, and vanish again.