The Tragedy Script

Life is nothing but a series of choices.

Some people choose to keep their heads down and survive the grind. Others choose to look up, chasing poetry and distant horizons.

But I knew a man who made a different choice. He traded his own life to give that freedom of choice to a girl he barely knew.

His name was Max.

We met on the morning commute. It wasn't a meet-cute; I mistook him for a pervert. Our second meeting... well, the misunderstanding only got worse.

I regret that every day. If I had just chosen to listen to him then—to believe him—maybe the tragedy that followed could have been avoided.

A few days later, in the dead of night, I was coming home from a shift at the Zero-G Club. The rain was pouring down in sheets. That was when I found Lily on the ground, covered in blood and filth.

I remember screaming. I remember the panic, the helplessness. I was in a daze until the ambulance lights cut through the dark.

Miraculously, Lily survived. She fought her way back from the brink of death.

But the very next day, the police told me they had the suspect.

They found Max unconscious in the rain, the weapon still in his arms.

Attempted murder. Flight. The chain of evidence was perfect—too perfect. The media had a field day, and the case was closed with terrifying speed.

The verdict: Eleven years.

But as I watched Max in the defendant's chair, offering me a sad, bitter smile, I hesitated.

If he was the killer, why did he track me down beforehand to warn me about a stalker? It was redundant. It didn't make sense. It was like painting legs on a snake—it only made him look more suspicious. Why would a criminal do that?

Logic said he wouldn't.

And then Lily woke up. Her first words were, "He’s a good person!"

That was enough for me. I started to dig.

But the deeper I dug, the more I felt an invisible hand pushing back. A force powerful enough to manipulate the law itself.

The police blocked me. The courts stonewalled me. Eventually, threats were made against Lily’s life, and mine.

I was alone, weak, and out of my depth. I had no choice but to take Lily and flee Sutton.

But running only confirmed my suspicions: There was a massive cover-up, and the real monster was still out there.

The innocent protector was rotting in a cell, while the guilty roamed free.

As a lawyer, the procedural "justice" of it all broke my heart. Even if we didn't press charges, the state had already made its judgment.

Before we left the city, I visited him.

I poured out my apologies and my gratitude. He just smiled, looking relieved that we were safe. He didn't blame me for leaving; he understood.

He had only one request: that I publish his journal one day. He wanted the truth to survive, even if he didn't.

Then, he did something that shocked me. He asked me to draft a deed of gift right there in the visitation room.

That was when I learned the truth about Max. He wasn't just a guy from the projects. He was a brilliant investor, a secret multi-millionaire.

He could have had a bright, glittering future.

Instead, he signed it all away. He gave 1.5 million to his best friend, Shane, to save Shane's dying father. He left ten million to his parents for their retirement.

And the last 1.5 million? He set up a trust for Lily, to ensure she could finish her education.

At the time, I didn't understand. He only had an eleven-year sentence. Why give everything away like a man writing his last will and testament?

But in that act, I saw the true measure of the man.

Loyalty to friends. Devotion to parents. Indifference to wealth. And for a stranger—a little girl he’d met by chance—he gave everything.

It was the first time I realized that not all men are heartless.

If only we had met under different stars...

If only we could have had a fresh start...

I never stopped looking for the truth.

Years passed. My connections grew. I worked in the shadows, pulling at loose threads until they led me to a colossal spiderweb: The Schuster Corporation.

Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place.

The "Schuster-Gould Divorce Case" I had been working on back then—the one I had to drop because of Lily's attack.

Someone had orchestrated the attack on Lily to stop me.

It was my fault. My naive ambition as a rookie lawyer had invited a disaster that hurt everyone around me. I thought the law was a fair battlefield. I forgot that laws are written by people, and people can be bought.

Against a giant like Schuster, even as a partner in a top firm, I was an ant trying to shake a tree.

I waited. I gathered evidence. I endured.

Years later, a corrupt ex-cop named York was arrested on an unrelated homicide charge. That was the domino that toppled the lie.

It turned out that Detective Captain York—the man I had once sent to prison for police brutality—was on Schuster's payroll. Schuster had pulled strings to get him released early.

Fueled by old grudges and corporate money, York had planned the hit on Lily.

Max had walked into a trap meant for us. If he hadn't risked his life to intervene, Lily wouldn't just have been injured. She would be dead.

Everything stemmed from me.

Guilt consumed me. I immediately moved to exonerate Max, preparing to go to war with the Schuster Corporation.

But the first document I received wasn't a court date. It was a critical condition notice from the prison hospital.

He died before I could free him.

He left only one final message:

"I spent a lifetime with lofty ambitions, but in the end, I couldn't even punch my way out of a paper bag. I hope that in this timeline, you are all safe."

The case was overturned. York was executed. But the Schuster Corporation is still the Schuster Corporation.

Some things, and some people, can never be brought back.

Years later, Lily was accepted into the International Academy of Criminology. She returned home as a homicide detective, a rising star in the force.

She says her lifelong wish is to ensure no innocent person ever suffers a wrongful conviction again.

She lives to honor the hero who traded his life for hers.

Every year on the anniversary of his death, Lily and I visit his grave.

The epitaph on his stone is one I wrote for him:

Justice Delayed is Justice Denied.

I dedicate this book to the memory of Max. A great life, lived in the shadows.

— Hazel Lane

At the very beginning of the book, the photo had changed again. This time, there were two people. Max was still rocking the prison jumpsuit, but Hazel stood next to him in a long, elegant dress. In the picture, she was holding onto Max's arm—not like a girlfriend, but like an old friend she'd trusted for decades. They both wore faint, peaceful smiles.

Max slammed the book shut. He squeezed his eyes tight and let out a long breath.

After a moment, he snapped his eyes open and whipped out his phone.

Click-click-click!

He took a rapid-fire series of photos of the page. This was a souvenir worth keeping. If the magical book decided to "update" tomorrow and wipe this timeline, he'd lose the proof. And he wasn't about to let that happen.

Next, he dialed a number.

"Hello? Max?" Shane's voice crackled on the other end, sounding rough.

"It's me. What's the situation with your dad?"

"Huh? You... how did you know?"

"Come on. You really think you can hide stuff from me?"

"Ugh. I wasn't trying to hide it," Shane sighed, his voice dropping. "I just didn't want to worry you so soon."

"What is it?"

"Heart condition. He needs surgery."

"Short on cash? Why didn't you ask me for that ten grand back?"

"For this kind of surgery? Ten grand is a drop in the bucket, man."

"Quarter of a million dollars, right?"

"You... how could you possibly know that? I only just found out..."

"Cut the crap and listen to me. Don't do anything stupid. I made a killing on some investments recently. I'll wire you the money in a few days."

Max didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt about spending money he hadn't technically earned yet. He hung up, ignoring whatever shock Shane was currently processing.

He stood up, stretching his back as he looked up at the pristine, cloudless blue sky.

How should he put this? Reading the summary of his "tragic life" this time didn't make him feel angry or suffocated like the last two times. Instead, he had this weird thought: Hey, this ending isn't actually that bad.

Wait. No, no, no!

Just because a pretty girl praised him, he was getting a big head. He was practically floating.

Max slapped himself mentally. He had to stop this dangerous "Happy Ending, Roll Credits" mindset immediately. There were plenty of futures where he could live a free, happy life—why was he suddenly okay with rotting in prison?

Even if this was slightly better than the last "Bad End," it was still a Bad End!

"Man, what a waste," he muttered. "I was so close to getting state compensation, too. Note to self: Physical fitness is actually important..."

He glanced back at the legal proverb cited in the book.

Justice delayed is justice denied.

Indeed.