Chapter 5 Protest and Collapse

The air smelled like rain and rage. Alice stood on the hood of a dented pickup truck, her sneakers slipping on the rusted metal, megaphone gripped in one hand and her live-streaming phone in the other. The crowd shouting below her-students in "Sterling Is Fraud" T-shirts, nurses from Mia's hospital, mothers pushing strollers with protest signs taped to the handles.

"They think we'll get tired!" Alice's voice crackled through the megaphone, raw from days of shouting.

"They think we'll go home when it rains. When they freeze our accounts. When they threaten us." She thrust her phone higher, the screen lit with thousands of viewers. "But we're not here for them. We're here for Lucia Torres!"

The crowd roared. Nina, Lucia's mother, stood at the front, clutching her daughter's photo. The little girl smiled from the frame, bald and beautiful, a stuffed unicorn in her lap.

Alice's vision blurred. She blinked hard, the midday sun carving knives into her skull. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but the headache hadn't quit-a relentless jackhammer behind her eyes. Mia's warnings buzzed in her ears ("You're not invincible!"), drowned out by the chants:

"HEY HEY, HO HO! STERLING'S GOTTA GO!"

A raindrop hit her phone screen. Then another. The sky cracked open.

"Don't move!" Alice barked as the crowd stirred. "Let them see us soaked. Let them see we don't bend!"

She squinted through the downpour at Sterling Tower. Police barricades lined the entrance, officers in riot gear shifting nervously. But the real threat wasn't the cops.

It was him.

Jude stood on the penthouse balcony, a silhouette against the glass, watching. Even from 30 stories below, she felt the weight of his stare.

Good. Let him watch.

"This isn't about one man!" Alice's voice frayed, her lungs burning. "It's about every kid like Lucia. Every family they've poisoned. Every lie they've-"

A cough ripped through her, violent and wet. She doubled over, megaphone slipping. The crowd murmured.

No. Not now.

She straightened, wiping her mouth. The back of her hand came away pink.

"We're done asking nicely!" she rasped, forcing a grin. "Today, we take answers!" She jumped off the truck, her knees buckling on impact. Nina caught her arm.

"You okay?"

"Peachy." Alice squeezed her hand. "Ready?"

Nina nodded, tears mixing with rain. Together, they led the march toward Sterling Tower.

The chants grew louder, angrier. Camera crews scrambled backward. Officers tightened their grips on batons. Alice's phone streamed it all-the shaking fists, the trembling barricades, the moment everything snapped.

A cop shoved a college kid holding a TAX THE RICH sign. The kid stumbled, knocking into a reporter. Someone threw a water bottle.

"STOP!" Alice screamed, but it was too late.

Chaos erupted.

Bodies surged. Police horses reared. A can of tear gas arced through the air, spewing white smoke.

"Fall back!" Alice yanked Nina toward an alley. "Go!"

Her phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the pavement. She dove for it, the live feed still rolling.

4.2K viewers.

A boot crushed her fingers.

"Filthy leech," a cop snarled, raising his baton.

Alice scrambled back, pain shooting up her arm. The baton swung-

-and stopped mid-air.

Jude's bodyguard wrenched the cop's wrist, twisting until he dropped the baton.

"What the hell?" the cop spat.

"Mr. Sterling's orders." The bodyguard nodded to a black SUV idling at the curb. "She comes with us."

Alice froze. The crowd still rioted behind her, but here, in this pocket of chaos, time slowed. Jude's driver stood holding the SUV door open, his face unreadable.

"Like hell," she hissed.

The bodyguard grabbed her waist, hauling her off the ground.

"Let go!" She kicked, her sneaker connecting with his shin. He grunted but didn't loosen his grip.

Nina lunged forward. "Leave her alone!"

"Run!" Alice screamed at her. "Get Lucia's files to the Times!"

The bodyguard tossed her into the SUV. She bounced across leather seats, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Drive."

She knew that voice.

Jude sat across from her, his suit immaculate, hair perfectly dry. He held her phone, the live feed still streaming.

4.3K viewers watched him say, "Hello, Alice."

She lunged for the door. Locked.

"Give that back!" She reached for the phone, but he held it aloft.

"You've made your point." His thumb hovered over End Stream. "Now, shall we discuss your surrender?"

"Go to hell."

He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "You first."

The phone died.

"Pull over," she demanded. "I'm not your prisoner."

"Aren't you?" He tossed her phone into a drink holder. "You're wanted for inciting a riot. Assaulting an officer. Grand theft."

"I didn't steal anything!"

"My security would disagree." He opened a dossier-photos of her sneaking into his office, photocopies of files. "But I'm feeling generous. Retract your accusations. Apologize. And I'll make it all... disappear."

She laughed, the sound jagged. "What's next? A marriage proposal?"

His gaze dropped to her mouth. "Would you say yes?"

The air crackled. Rain lashed the windows.

Alice's chest tightened. Not fear-something worse.

"You're dying," Jude said softly.

She stiffened. "What?"

He tapped the dossier. "Stage four glioblastoma. Diagnosed six months ago. That's why you're really here-not to save Lucia. To rage against the dying of the light."

Her breath came in shallow gasps. How? Mia's voice echoed: "They subpoenaed your records."

Jude leaned closer. "I'll fund your treatment. Clinical trials. Anything. Just stop this... tantrum."

The word detonated.

"A tantrum?" She launched at him, nails raking his cheek. "Lucia's eight. She's on morphine because of you!"

He grabbed her wrists, pinning her against the seat. "You think I wanted this?"

"I think you're a coward." She spat in his face.

He didn't flinch. "And you're a fool. You'll be dead in a year. What then? Who saves Lucia?"

The truth hit like a bullet.

She sagged, the fight draining. Jude loosened his grip, his thumb brushing her racing pulse.

"Let me help you," he murmured.

A metallic tang flooded her mouth. She coughed-a wet, ragged sound. Blood spattered Jude's crisp white collar.

He froze.

"Alice?"

The world tilted. Colors smeared.

"Alice!"

His arms caught her as she fell.