Chapter 6: The Chorus of Victims

Leo woke at dawn to the relentless buzzing of his phone. Notifications flooded his lock screen—dozens of messages from the building's group chat, missed calls from numbers he didn't recognize, and texts from residents he'd barely spoken to in three years of living in The Zenith.

The digital inferno he'd ignited at midnight had spread faster than he'd anticipated.

He scrolled through the group chat, watching his post multiply into a cascade of responses. The initial reactions had been shock and outrage, but as the night wore on, something extraordinary had happened: other voices had begun joining the chorus.

Jennifer Walsh - 20B: "OMG Leo, Marcus tried the same thing with my friend Sarah when she moved out of 15C two years ago. She has photos of the 'damages' he charged her for - they were already there!"

David Chen - 15A: "This explains so much. I wondered why he was so aggressive about the inspection when I switched units last year. Still fighting over $1,200 in bogus charges."

Margaret Stevens - 8B: "My nephew rented from Marcus in 2019. Same story - massive damage list, minimal deposit return. We thought it was just bad luck."

Leo sat up in bed, fully awake now. The responses weren't just expressions of sympathy—they were testimonials. His carefully documented case had given other victims permission to speak, and they were emerging from the woodwork with their own evidence.

By 7 AM, the group chat had exploded into chaos. Photos began appearing—images of rental units with minimal wear being characterized as extensive damage, screenshots of text conversations where Marcus refused to provide proper documentation, copies of fraudulent repair estimates that bore suspicious similarities to Leo's own experience.

Maria Santos - 12A: "Look at this damage report from 2020. $3,400 for 'hardwood refinishing' - but check out my move-in photos. Those scratches were already there!"

She'd attached side-by-side images that told the story perfectly: Marcus's damage report claiming extensive floor repairs, paired with her own photos showing the exact same minor scratches from the day she'd moved in.

Thomas Wright - 25B: "Same template! Look at the formatting - he's literally using the same spreadsheet for everyone."

Thomas had posted a comparison of five different damage reports spanning three years. The formatting was identical, the language nearly word-for-word the same, even the font and spacing perfectly consistent. Marcus hadn't just been running a scam—he'd systematized it into a template-driven operation.

Leo's phone rang. The caller ID showed Elara's name.

"Are you seeing this?" she said without preamble, her voice tight with excitement.

"I'm seeing it," Leo confirmed, scrolling through the growing mountain of evidence in the group chat.

"Leo, this is incredible. We went from nine confirmed victims to—how many responses are in the chat now?"

Leo did a quick count. "Twenty-three people have posted evidence of fraud. And it's still growing."

"This changes everything," Elara said. "The federal prosecutors wanted evidence of a pattern? We now have documentation of systematic fraud spanning at least five years, affecting dozens of tenants, involving potentially hundreds of thousands of dollars."

As they spoke, more posts appeared. Residents were sharing stories not just of deposit theft, but of Marcus's other questionable practices: illegal commercial rentals, subletting violations, refusal to make actual repairs while charging tenants for imaginary ones.

Dr. Patricia Moore - 31A: "This man has been operating an illegal business operation in residential units while stealing money from tenants for fake repairs. How did building management not know?"

James Liu - 19B: "I work in forensic accounting. These damage reports show clear evidence of systematic fraud. The mathematical patterns are unmistakable."

Leo felt a surge of satisfaction as he read James Liu's analysis. An expert witness had just volunteered himself, providing professional validation for what Leo had suspected but couldn't prove alone.

The group chat continued its chaotic explosion throughout the morning. By noon, the original thread had generated over 200 responses, with residents sharing everything from photos and documents to personal stories of feeling helpless against Marcus's aggressive tactics.

But the most devastating posts came from Marcus's current tenants.

Alex Rodriguez - Building Staff: "Management wants everyone to know we've sealed 32B pending full investigation. The damage from the illegal tenants is extensive, but we're also reviewing all rental practices in the building."

Yuki Tanaka - 7A: "Wait, I'm currently renting from Marcus Thorne. Are you saying my deposit is at risk?"

The response to Yuki's question was immediate and overwhelming. Fifteen different residents replied with variations of "YES" and "GET OUT NOW" and "DOCUMENT EVERYTHING."

Leo watched the digital mob turn its attention to protecting current victims, offering advice on documentation, legal rights, and evidence preservation. The community that had rallied around his case was now actively working to prevent future fraud.

His phone buzzed with a private message from Mrs. Gable: "Dear boy, you've started something magnificent. Check your email."

Leo opened his email to find a message from Mrs. Gable with dozens of attachments—photos, documents, and recorded conversations she'd been collecting for months in preparation for this moment. Her network had been busier than even Leo had realized.

"I've been documenting Marcus's activities since our first conversation three years ago," her email explained. "Every victim I could find, every piece of evidence I could gather. I was waiting for the right moment to release it all. Your post last night was that moment."

Leo scrolled through Mrs. Gable's files with growing amazement. She had evidence from victims dating back seven years, including several who had moved out of the building entirely. Financial records showing Marcus's increasing reliance on fraudulent deposit retention to meet his mortgage obligations. Even recordings of conversations where Isabella openly bragged about their "property management strategies."

The scope of the fraud was staggering.

By evening, the group chat had transformed from a community discussion forum into something resembling a digital courtroom. Victims were sharing evidence, experts were offering analysis, and current tenants were planning coordinated action to protect themselves.

Dr. Elizabeth Hayes - 29A: "As a former prosecutor, I can tell you this group chat now contains enough evidence for multiple federal charges. Mail fraud, wire fraud, potentially RICO violations if we can establish the systematic nature of the operation."

Michael Torres - 16B: "I'm a real estate agent. What Marcus has been doing isn't just fraud—it's a violation of nearly every ethical standard in property management. This evidence could destroy his ability to operate in this city."

Leo felt the momentum building toward something beyond what he'd originally envisioned. His patient, methodical pursuit of justice had catalyzed a community uprising that was now generating its own energy and direction.

The posts kept coming throughout the evening, each one adding another piece to the mosaic of Marcus's fraudulent empire:

Sandra Kim - 22A: "Photo evidence of the 'water damage' Marcus charged me $800 to repair in 2021. As you can see, it's a stain that was already there and hasn't changed in three years."

Robert Jackson - 13B: "Text conversation where Marcus threatened to 'make things difficult' if I didn't accept his damage assessment. Screenshot attached."

Diana Foster - 26A: "Financial analysis showing Marcus's deposit retention rate is 847% higher than average for comparable properties. Statistical proof of systematic theft."

Each post was immediately validated by other residents sharing similar experiences, creating a cascading effect of evidence and corroboration that Leo knew would be impossible for any defense team to counter.

As midnight approached—exactly twenty-four hours since his initial post—Leo counted the responses. Over 300 messages from 47 different residents, documenting systematic fraud affecting at least 23 confirmed victims, with financial losses totaling more than $85,000.

The digital mob had delivered more comprehensive evidence than three years of legal investigation.

Leo's phone rang one final time that evening. The caller ID showed a number he didn't recognize, but when he answered, the voice was familiar.

"Leo? This is Marcus Thorne."

Leo felt his pulse steady as that familiar cold clarity settled over him. "Hello, Marcus."

"Listen, I think there might be some misunderstanding about—"

"There's no misunderstanding," Leo interrupted gently. "Everything in that group chat is documented, verified, and accurate."

"But some of those claims are—the photos might be misleading—"

"Marcus," Leo said, his voice calm and final, "it's over."

The silence on the other end of the line stretched for nearly thirty seconds before Marcus hung up without another word.

Leo set his phone aside and stood at his window, looking up at the penthouse where Marcus and Isabella were probably frantically trying to figure out how to respond to a digital avalanche they couldn't control or contain.

The group chat had become a permanent record of their crimes, visible to 500 residents, preserved in screenshots and downloads, spreading beyond the building to social media and local news outlets that had begun picking up the story.

Tomorrow would bring official consequences—federal prosecutors, building management, professional sanctions, and civil suits that would drain every asset Marcus had accumulated through fraud.

But tonight, Leo allowed himself to savor something more immediate: the moment when a community discovered its own power and used it to protect itself.

The chorus of victims had found their voice.

And their song was louder than any lie Marcus Thorne had ever told.