Novel Full Chapter 1959: Psych Ward
Chapter 1959: Psych Ward
Villain Ch 1959. Psych Ward
Just like Jordan said.
Everything unfolded the way he predicted. Down to the detail. Down to the hour.
Neither Allen nor Jordan needed to lift a finger. They didn’t scream. Didn’t sue. Didn’t punch. No messy lawsuits or dramatic public statements. Not a single “I’ll ruin you” message sent. No lawyer letters. No DMs.
What they needed?
A media team. That was it.
A handful of smart people behind keyboards, carefully pushing the right narratives at the right times. A few subtle tweets. A short thread pointing out inconsistencies in Sophia’s past posts. A reaction clip from the road breakdown. Enough to raise questions.
From there?
The internet did the rest.
Comment sections exploded. Fan forums turned into warzones. People who once called Sophia “brave” now called her “obsessed.” Memes started to circulate.
First for the breakdown.
Then for the psych ward.
No one needed to push her.
She fell on her own.
And the worst part?
She didn’t even fall fast. She cracked slowly.
First, she stopped posting. A week of silence. People assumed she was regrouping. Maybe even preparing a comeback stream.
Another week later, her neighbors began hearing her cry. Crying loud enough to echo through thin apartment walls.
And then finally… the bridge incident.
She didn’t jump. She didn’t climb.
She just stood there.
Holding a photo of her and Allen from two years ago. The same one she used to keep in her wallet. Her fingers were shaking. Her voice soft. Just repeating, “I’m sorry, Allen. I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed. I didn’t mean to. I want to go back. Please…”
That was how the social worker found her and brought her home.
Turns out her family had already made contact. Not directly with Allen. They didn’t have the nerve for that. But they had reached out to the department, concerned. Unofficially. Quietly. She wasn’t answering their calls anymore.
Her mom? Distant. A shell. But even she had cracked enough to leave voicemails.
And when Sophia was found in her apartment days later. Bed unmade, hair tangled, clutching Allen’s old photo like it was a lifeline, repeating his name in soft sobs—they finally intervened.
The psych ward wasn’t forced.
But it might as well have been.
Allen heard about it a few days after it happened.
He didn’t celebrate. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say “serves her right.” He just sat in his room, light off, a single lamp casting shadows over the desk as he scrolled through the leaked report again.
She was admitted for observation due to recurring breakdown episodes, dissociation, and obsessive delusions regarding a former partner.
His name wasn’t written. But everyone knew.
Allen rubbed his forehead, leaning back in his chair. His hands felt cold.
He didn’t do this.
He knew that. Rationally. Emotionally.
But it didn’t make the ache go away.
They’d been close once. Closer than anyone.
He knew the feel of her lips. The curve of her laugh. The way she used to hold him in the dark, swearing the world would never tear them apart.
And yet… it had.
No, not the world. Not the court. Not Hell’s Gate.
She did this to herself.
She could’ve walked away. Could’ve let the past stay buried. Could’ve loved Elio. He was kind. He would’ve treated her gently. Given her something new.
But no. She chose obsession.
She wanted to control him again. Thought he was still that naïve boy she’d once molded like clay. The one who waited at her side like a loyal NPC while she played games with his trust.
She came back to play him.
And instead?
She played herself.
Allen didn’t go to see her.
Didn’t send flowers. Didn’t write a note. He knew better. That would only drag her deeper. Give her hope. Twist the knife in the wrong way.
So he did the only thing he could do.
He let her go.
Let the professionals handle her. Let her family finally step in after all those years of distance and silence. Let the consequences speak for themselves.
And the consequences didn’t stop with her.
Because Liam and Darren?
They didn’t escape either.
Sure, their spiral wasn’t as dramatic. No public breakdowns. But the backlash hit hard. Maybe harder.
It started when experts got a hold of the infamous sex tape. It was sent by Goldborne, of course. But the team said they were from the police.
They analyzed every frame. And that’s when the truth came out.
Yes, the AI-generated versions existed. The ones with extra limbs, grotesque contortions, impossible positions. Those were fake. Enhanced.
But the original?
That one was real.
Raw. Unfiltered. Consent unclear.
And when questioned under pressure, both Liam and Darren cracked.
Confessed.
They admitted it had happened. But that it was consensual.
Or so they said.
Too late.
The damage was irreversible.
Because even if the law couldn’t pin them, consent was legally on record, after all… the public didn’t forgive so easily.
They were crucified.
“Consent doesn’t equal ethics,” one post read, upvoted over 90,000 times.
“You broke her,” said another. “And now you want sympathy?”
Sophia’s family tried to sue. Filed a civil case. But it didn’t go far. The lawyers pulled every chat log and message thread, and yes, technically, it had all been agreed upon.
Just not respected.
That nuance, between law and morality, was what ruined them.
And worst of all?
Even Hell’s Gate turned on them.
They tried to log in. Tried to pretend nothing happened. But the moment their avatars loaded into public lobbies, they were swarmed. Not just words. Attacks. Targeted kill attempts. Griefing. Stream snipes.
Eventually, they stopped showing up entirely.
Vanished.
Rumor had it Darren moved. Liam deactivated all accounts.
And Allen?
Allen stood at the center of it all, untouched.
Not because he was innocent.
But because he played smarter.
He didn’t swing the sword. He just handed people the blade and let them decide what to do.
His hands were clean.