Unable to Love, I Choose to Flee

The day I was supposed to take the bench as Chief Judge, I got myself arrested for a DUI on purpose.

Sitting behind bars for three days, I perfectly missed the murder trial of my wife's childhood sweetheart.

Everyone who knew me shook their heads. They pitied me for throwing my brilliant career straight into the gutter.

But sitting on that freezing iron cot, all I felt was absolute relief.

In my past life, my wife forced me to use my authority to acquit her bastard of a childhood friend.

I refused and sentenced the scumbag to death according to the law. My wife hated my guts for it.

After the divorce, she pulled every string she had, whipping up a frenzy online and framing me for abusing my power for personal revenge.

Overnight, I went from a rising star in the justice system to a rat crossing the street.

Countless ignorant netizens doxed me. Death threats stuffed my mailbox. The abuse bled into my real life, suffocating me until my mental defenses completely shattered. I was driven to a dead end and jumped off a building.

I opened my eyes, sucking in a lungful of rust-scented air. I had actually returned to the day before the trial.

"Is that him? The high and mighty Chief Judge? A drunk driver?"

"Breaking the law he's sworn to uphold. Throw the book at him!"

"Scum like him doesn't deserve the robe. Sickening."

Accusations and curses washed over me like a tidal wave.

I looked at the furious faces behind the police tape, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

If I hadn't been pushed to the absolute brink, who would willingly smash the career they spent a decade building?

In my last life, my principles got me killed.

This time, I had run the chessboard through my mind a thousand times. This was the only way out of a dead end.

It would be a lie to say my heart didn't ache for what I was losing.

Before I could process the heavy emotions, two uniformed officers slapped cold handcuffs onto my wrists with a sharp click.

One of them roughly shoved my shoulder, preparing to force me into the back of the cruiser.

Right at that moment, a middle-aged woman in a red coat broke through the crowd like a madwoman. She pointed a trembling finger right at my nose and screamed.

"You heartless animal! My son was killed by a drunk driver like you!"

"You're a judge and you dare to drink and drive? Why don't you rot in hell with my boy!"

Her voice cracked and tore. Driven to the edge of grief, she lunged forward, her nails aiming straight for my face.

Looking at her twisted, tear-stained features, my vision blurred for a second.

A few years ago, I was the one who presided over her son's tragic hit-and-run case.

What a cruel joke of fate. The wheel turned, and now I was the one wearing the handcuffs.

Seeing her claws about to reach my eyes, the younger cop quickly stepped in front of me.

"Ma'am, please step back. You need to calm down."

"Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down!"

Her shrieks pierced my eardrums. "Why does a piece of trash like him get to wear that robe? What gives him the right to sit up high and decide who lives and dies!"

The crowd immediately echoed her anger. People shouted that someone so filthy had no right to judge others.

The cops were overwhelmed by the boiling outrage.

They finally managed to pull the despairing mother aside. Taking advantage of the gap, the other officer shoved me hard into the police car.

The heavy door slammed shut with a thud.

The chaos outside was instantly muted.

The young cop climbed into the driver's seat. He glanced at the angry mob outside, still shaken, then glared at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes were full of frustrated disappointment.

He shook his head in disgust.

"What the hell were you thinking? A Chief Judge, holding the biggest case of the year, and you go out and drive drunk? Is your brain rotted?"

"Anyone who didn't know better would think you did this on purpose to dodge the trial."

A sharp ache hit my chest.

I had bled for this profession for ten years. Every bone in my body carried a deep reverence for the law. Who would actually throw that away?

But I had no choice.

I had to burn it all down to survive.

Seeing me sitting there like a mute statue, the cop wisely shut his mouth.

I leaned back against the leather seat and closed my eyes, but my mind ran wild, dragging me back to my previous life.

My wife was Meredith. The man who caused the fatal crash was her childhood best friend, Blake.

That night, the rain poured down in sheets. Visibility was zero.

Blake was dead drunk. He slammed the gas pedal, ran a red light, and hit a pregnant woman, sending her flying across the intersection.

Her husband was standing only a few feet away, forced to watch his beloved wife smash onto the asphalt like a broken doll.

Bright crimson blood mixed with the rain, pooling rapidly under the pale streetlights.

She died on impact.

The eight-month-old baby, fully formed and ready to see the world, died right along with her.

The tragedy detonated across the internet. Public fury boiled over, and every lawyer in the city was placing bets on how long Blake would rot in a cell.

Fate played a sick joke, and the gavel was placed in my hands.

The second the news broke, Meredith called me.

She felt zero sympathy for the dead. She simply demanded I use my authority to get Blake off the hook.

Those were two innocent lives. And Blake didn't show a single ounce of remorse in court. He even smirked at the grieving husband.

My bottom line as a judge made me reject Meredith's insane demands without a second thought.

Taking all the brutal evidence into account, I brought the gavel down and sentenced Blake to death.

The day of the verdict, Meredith was eerily quiet.

But that very night, she packed her bags and left.

The next morning, a cold divorce agreement was slapped onto my desk.

I was completely stunned.

She looked at me like I was garbage. A venomous sneer curled her lips as she told me I didn't deserve to be her husband.

"Blake and I grew up together, and you actually dared to sentence him to death. You're a cold-blooded monster!"

"I asked you for one tiny favor and you pushed back. What's next? Are you going to throw me in a cell too!"

Her beautiful eyes were swimming with raw, unfiltered hatred.

I almost laughed at her twisted logic.

If I didn't sentence him to death, how could I face the public?

How could I face those two murdered souls?

She refused to listen to a single word of my defense. She just spun on her heels and slammed the door behind her.

I tried to salvage things, but she was a block of solid ice.

Exhausted to my core, I signed the papers. I thought the nightmare was over and we would just go our separate ways.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

The day after the divorce, a massive smear campaign buried me alive.

Hordes of internet trolls came out of nowhere, spinning a narrative that I was jealous of Blake and Meredith's relationship, claiming I handed down the death penalty out of pure spite.

The killing blow was an audio clip leaked online.

In it, my voice used the most vulgar words imaginable to curse Blake, threatening to kill him sooner or later.

It was a masterful AI deepfake.

Meredith was a top-tier visual and audio designer. She had plenty of connections with people who could fabricate reality perfectly.

I tried to clear my name. A few rational voices actually took my side.

But that afternoon, my trusted assistant posted a massive essay online.

He tearfully accused me of abusing my power and accepting massive bribes.

When my own right-hand man threw me to the wolves, the narrative completely spiraled out of control.

Not a single person believed my innocence anymore.

I naively thought the internet's memory was short. I thought time would wash it away.

But the hatred escalated into real-world violence.

Bricks smashed through my windows at midnight. Dead rats were left on my windshield. The death threats seeped into every corner of my existence.

My sanity finally snapped. On a quiet, early morning, I stepped off the edge of a thirty-story building.

The agony of my bones shattering and my organs tearing from the sheer force of the impact was still burned into my soul.

Opening my eyes again, only ice remained in my veins.

Since God gave me a second chance, I would never let anyone use me as a stepping stone again.

Three days later, I finally walked out of the precinct doors.

The desk officer handed me my belongings in a clear plastic bag. I nodded in thanks.

The second I turned on my phone, it vibrated like a cornered hornet. Over a hundred unread messages flooded the screen.

I skimmed through them.

Most were from Meredith. Every single word reeked of arrogant rage.

"Where the hell are you playing dead? Text me back!"

"You have three hours, or I'm dragging you to sign divorce papers!"

"You think you're so tough now? Ignoring my calls and my texts?"

Because I hadn't replied, her final messages softened just a fraction.

"Today is Blake's trial. You better remember what I said and make sure he walks free."

Seeing that last line, I couldn't hold back a cold laugh.

I had spent three peaceful days behind bars, and she was out here writing a whole script for my life.

I ignored her garbage texts.

Glancing at my Rolex, I saw the time was just about right. I hailed a cab and headed straight for the courthouse.

Green lights all the way.

Half an hour later, the cab pulled up across the street from the towering courthouse.

I looked out the window.

Blake's crime was so brutal that the court had barred public entry to the trial.

But that didn't stop the outrage. The plaza in front of the building was packed tight with angry protesters, and reporters had their cameras lined up like a firing squad.

My eyes scanned the chaotic crowd and locked onto two very familiar figures.

Meredith and my son, Toby.

They were standing on their tiptoes, craning their necks toward the heavy doors, panic written all over their faces.

This was getting interesting.

I pushed the car door open, a mocking smile playing on my lips. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stood on the sidewalk, quietly admiring their little performance.

A few minutes passed.

Maybe she felt my unapologetic stare, because Meredith suddenly whipped her head around.

Our eyes clashed in the air.

The moment she recognized my face, Meredith looked like someone had hit pause on a remote control.

Pure, unfiltered shock flashed across her perfect face. She let go of Toby's hand and practically sprinted across the pavement toward me in her heels.

"What are you doing here?"

A subtle tremor of panic laced her voice.

Her eyes darted between the closed courthouse doors and my calm expression. Her throat tightened. "At this time, you should be sitting in..."

She forced the rest of the sentence back down her throat.

I looked down at her, my voice dead flat. "Where should I be?"

She bit her lower lip hard, her face draining of color.

The mockery on my face deepened. I dragged out the syllables, asking her the exact same question again.

Her mask completely shattered. Her voice grew sharp and erratic.

"You should be on the bench! Why are you sneaking around out here? Did you abandon your post again!"

Her volume was loud, laced with a preemptive, defensive fury.

A few curious heads were already turning our way.

I didn't care if anyone recognized me as the disgraced Chief Judge who got busted for drunk driving three days ago.

Meeting Meredith's furious, panicked gaze, I let out a slow, clear laugh.

"What trial?"

"Three days ago, I was locked up for a DUI. I just walked out of the precinct ten minutes ago."