Sophia Cole’s "Family First Makeover" clips dominate social media—each more brutal than the st.

  Clip 1: Sophia "redesigning" a protestor’s handmade "Repent Sinner" sign into a Dior-inspired clutch, quipping, "Now it’s actually valuable!"

  Clip 2: A side-by-side of Sister Ruth’s austere wardrobe vs. Sophia’s "Heavenly Gm" version—Ruth’s modest dress Photoshopped into a scandalous ce "Sunday Best" gown.

  Clip 3: Sophia fake-crying into a 10,000 silk handkerchief: "I just pray for their fashion souls!"

  [The internet loses it.

  #FamilyLast trends as memes flood in.

  Family First members are recognized on the street—and ughed at.

  Pastor Vale bans all media engagement, further isoting his flock.

  Meanwhile, in a private dining room at Le Ciel, the city’s most exclusive restaurant, Sister Ruth sits stiffly across from Sara Croft and Elise Carter. The contrast is stark—Ruth’s worn-out bzer against the crystal chandeliers, her untouched gourmet pte.

  Elise (sipping wine, casual):

  "You’ve given everything to Family First. What has it given you?"

  [Ruth’s fingers tighten around her water gss. The truth aches: Nothing. No recognition. No love. Just hollow devotion.

  Sara (leaning in, voice honeyed):

  "Pastor Vale preaches sacrifice… but he doesn’t starve. He doesn’t wear thrift-store suits."

  A waiter discreetly slides a velvet box onto the table. Inside—a diamond pendant, glinting under the soft light.

  Elise (softly):

  "This could be yours. All of this."

  **[Ruth’s resolve cracks. The dam breaks—tears spill as she whispers:

  Ruth: "What do you want me to do?"

  Elise’s smile is victorious. Sara slides a contract forward.

  ***

  Family First’s rallies are now ghost towns. The once-fervent protestors, humiliated by Sophia Cole’s relentless trolling, slink away into obscurity. The few who remain are met with ughter, their signs—once symbols of conviction—now punchlines in viral memes.

  Pastor Vale (raging to his inner circle):

  "This is spiritual warfare! Do not let the devil’s vanity silence us!"

  [But the damage is done. The movement is bleeding out.

  In Hezri’s hospital suite—now a gilded prison—Sister Ruth lies tangled in silk sheets, her body still humming from Hezri’s touch. Two days of wine, whispered promises, and calcuted pleasure have eroded her devotion.

  Hezri (trailing a finger down her spine):

  "You were made for more than dusty pews and unanswered prayers."

  Ruth sits up, her eyes no longer uncertain—now sharp with resolve.

  Ruth:

  "I want to burn it all down."

  [Hezri grins. Finally.]

  Sister Ruth, now fully under Hezri’s influence, accesses Pastor Vale’s private sermon archives—raw, unfiltered recordings meant only for inner-circle disciples. The footage is damning:

  Clip 1: Vale snarling, "Women are the weaker vessel—easily led astray by vanity and emotion!"

  Clip 2: Him mocking a female congregant’s depression: "Her faith is as thin as her waistline!"

  Clip 3: A drunken rant (never meant to be public): "The 6 Commandments? Pathetic. But at least they keep whores in line."

  [Ruth’s hands don’t shake as she uploads the files to a burner drive. This is vengeance.]

  Sophia Cole, draped in a metallic bodysuit and perched on a throne of Bibles, drops the video at midnight.

  The clips are auto-tuned into a diss track.

  Vale’s face is deep-faked onto a pole-dancing preacher.

  The chorus? "HATE THE SIN, LOVE THE CLOUT (REMIX)"

  [It goes ptinum in irony within hours. Even secur media picks it up—"Religious Leader’s Meltdown Goes Viral."]

  Pastor Vale (screaming at his phone):

  "THIS IS EDITED!"

  [No one cares.]

  [Lydia Shaw’s "The Unfaithful: A Sister’s Confession" drops on The Obedient Press at dawn.

  Ruth’s "diary entries" (ghostwritten by Riya Patel) detail Vale’s "spiritual abuse."

  "Leaked" DMs show Vale soliciting nudes from a congregant (Seneca’s handiwork).

  Financial records reveal "donations" funding his secret condo.

  The article ends with Ruth’s tearful video confession:

  "I believed in him. But Family First was never about faith… only control."

  [Vale’s reputation is ash. His congregation abandons him. The few loyalists are met with pity or mockery.

  Family First’s membership plummets from 4,000 to 400 in 48 hours.

  Ruth is crowned "Mother Ruth" of The Sixth Fold—a "feminist" rebrand of the 6 Commandments.

  Vale is st seen boarding a Greyhound bus, his face hidden under a hoodie.

  [Hezri watches the chaos from his penthouse, swirling bourbon as Sophia’s remix bres in the background.

  Hezri (toasting the screen):

  "Another soul saved."

  ***

  [The luxury yacht Eclipse cuts through moonlit waves, champagne flutes glinting under strands of fairy lights. Hezri, dressed in a tailored navy suit, watches Sophia Cole lean against the railing, the city’s skyline shrinking behind them. Her ughter rings sharp and bright over the ocean’s hum.

  Hezri (handing her a crystal gss of Dom Pérignon):

  "I owe you an apology, Sophia."

  [Sophia arches a brow, swirling the champagne with a smirk.

  Sophia:

  "Oh? Did the great Hezri just admit he was wrong?"

  "I thought you were just a spoiled brat with a trust fund and a death wish. But you?"* (His gaze darkens, impressed.) "You’re a natural. The way you dismantled Family First—ruthless. The way you twisted New Covenant’s youth into your little cult of holy hedonism? Genius."

  Sophia’s grin widens. She lives for this—the recognition, the power, the game.

  Hezri (raising his gss):

  "To Sophia Cole—the most dangerous sinner I’ve ever met."

  [Sophia clinks her gss against his, but her eyes fsh with something unreadable.

  Sophia:

  "Oh, darling. You haven’t seen dangerous yet."

  [The yacht sails on, the water swallowing their ughter. Somewhere beneath them, the ruins of Family First and New Covenant sink into oblivion.

  The yacht sails on, the water swallowing their ughter. Somewhere beneath them, the ruins of Family First and New Covenant sink into oblivion.

  The hospital suite is heavy with the scent of sex and power. Silk sheets tangle around Sophia Cole’s bare legs as she sprawls across the bed, still catching her breath. Beside her, Lydia Shaw sits rigid, her knuckles white around the edge of the mattress—jaw clenched, body thrumming with unspent fury.

  Hezri, already dressed, pours three gsses of bourbon, his gaze lingering on Lydia’s tense silhouette.

  Hezri (handing Sophia a gss, voice rich with approval):

  "You eviscerated New Covenant. You turned Family First into a joke. I didn’t just underestimate you—I insulted you."

  [Sophia takes the drink, her smirk zy, victorious. She knows her worth now.

  Sophia (toasting air):

  "And yet, here we are."

  Hezri (turning to Lydia, sharp as a bde):

  "You could learn from her. If you stopped clinging to your pathetic morals."

  [A beat. Lydia’s nails dig into her palms. Then—

  Lydia (soft, deadly):

  "You’re right."

  [Sophia’s grin falters. Hezri’s eyes glint.

  Lydia stands, naked and unashamed, and picks up the bourbon bottle. She pours herself a double—then downs it in one swallow. When she speaks again, her voice is different. Darker. Hungrier.

  Lydia:

  "Sophia pyed the fool to win. I’ve been pying the martyr to lose."* (She steps into Hezri’s space, close enough to kiss—or kill.) "But I’m done. Teach me."

  [Hezri exhales, thrilled. Finally.

  Sophia (watching, a flicker of unease in her eyes):

  "...Well. Shit."