Chapter 49 Liam
LIAM
Iwatch Cora on the witness stand, her spine straight as steel, though her hands tremble slightly. The courtroom falls silent as she speaks, her voice clear despite the weight of her father’s glare from the defense table.
“Yes, these are photographs of injuries inflicted by my father,” she says, indicating the evidence displayed on screens throughout the courtroom. “This bruise was from when I suggested deferring law school. This one was after I questioned his campaign finances.”
Pride swells in my chest. I’ve guided countless witnesses through testimony, but none with the courage Cora shows now, dismantling her father’s public image piece by piece.
When the district attorney hands her the cassette recorder we found among Martha’s things, Cora doesn’t falter. She authenticates her father’s voice, threatening to “put Martha in the ground like her mother” if she ever defied him publicly.
I glance at the jury. They’re riveted, horror evident on their faces as the documented abuse unfolds before them.
After the court adjourns, I meet Governor Lancaster and District Attorney Whitman in a private conference room. The evidence boxes we’ve meticulously organized cover the table.
“These are Martha Coleman’s letters documenting the abuse,” I explain, sliding a folder toward them. “And these medical records show suspicious injuries consistently disguised as ‘accidents’ throughout Cora’s childhood.”
The governor’s face darkens as she reviews the documents. “And the mother’s death?”
I pass her Melissa Connor’s sworn statement. “Pike’s ex-girlfriend confirms he threatened to do to Cora ‘what he did to her mother’ when she threatened to leave him. And the coroner's reports that were sealed state there was no evidence of cancer found, but they were buried.”
“Jesus Christ,” Whitman mutters, examining phone records linking Pike to documented threats against witnesses.
“There’s more,” I say, revealing financial records showing Pike’s misappropriation of campaign funds to silence potential witnesses. “He’s built his career on intimidation and violence.”
Three hours later, I stand beside Cora as the indictment is announced: domestic violence, witness tampering, fraud, embezzlement, and a preliminary investigation into Catherine Pike’s death.
As the bailiffs move to take Pike into custody, time seems to slow.
The courtroom falls silent except for the harsh click of handcuffs closing around his wrists.
I stand beside Cora, close but not too close, maintaining our carefully crafted public image where Dom is her boyfriend, and Ryder is mine.
Pike raises his head, his eyes locking with Cora’s across the courtroom. It’s a moment of reckoning—father and daughter acknowledging the final collapse of their toxic relationship. I’ve seen that look before in courtrooms: the moment a defendant realizes they’ve lost everything.
But unlike most defeated men, Pike’s mask doesn’t just slip; it shatters into a million pieces.
“You ungrateful bitch!” he snarls, lunging forward against the restraint of the bailiffs. “After everything I did for you! You think you’re free of me? I made you what you are!”
The courtroom erupts in shocked murmurs. The judge bangs her gavel, demanding order, but Pike continues his tirade.
“You’re nothing without me! Nothing! Just like your whore mother!”
Dom moves swiftly to Cora’s side, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. I watch as he pulls her against his chest, his body forming a shield between her and her father’s venom. It’s the perfect picture of a supportive boyfriend—exactly what the watching press will expect to see.
What they can’t see is how my own hands clench into fists at my sides, the urge to comfort her myself a physical ache. But I maintain our facade, exchanging a carefully moderated look of concern with Ryder.
“Get him out of here!” the judge orders.
As the bailiffs drag Pike toward the side door, still spewing vitriol, I watch Cora’s expression. Her face remains composed, chin lifted—the perfect picture of dignity in contrast to her father’s unraveling.
Dom’s fingers tighten on her shoulder, and I catch the subtle way he whispers something in her ear that makes her stand even taller.
The courthouse steps are crowded with reporters shouting questions, but our security team creates a path to the waiting SUV.
Dom guides Cora through the chaos with his arm still protectively around her shoulders while Ryder and I follow slightly behind, maintaining our separate-couple facade until the tinted windows shield us from public view.
The moment the door closes, Cora collapses against the leather seat with a shaky exhale. We’re all silent as the car pulls away from the curb—the gravity of what just happened settling over us.
“It’s over,” she finally whispers, tears glistening in her eyes. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”
Without hesitation, I reach for her hand across the seat. “You were incredible in there.”
“Fucking magnificent,” Ryder agrees.
Dom says nothing, but his expression speaks volumes.
The tension that’s been building for weeks suddenly lifts, and a wild, relieved laughter bubbles out of Cora. It’s contagious. Soon, all four of us are laughing—a release of stress, fear, and uncertainty.
“You did it,” Dom says, squeezing Cora’s shoulder.
Cora shakes her head. “No, we did it. Together.”
She leans across and kisses me—soft and sweet, filled with gratitude and something deeper. When she pulls back, her smile is radiant.
She turns to kiss Ryder next, then Dom, each touch of her lips a silent thank you. The intimacy of the moment catches in my chest. Then Ryder reaches for my hand, pulls me toward him for a gentle kiss that has nothing to do with desire and everything to do with connection.
The four of us exchange these tender kisses for a few minutes.
“Let’s order obscene amounts of takeout when we get home,” Ryder suggests, his arm draped around my shoulders. “Watch terrible movies and just... be together.”
“Blanket fort in the living room?” Cora asks hopefully.
I glance at Dom, expecting his usual resistance to such childish ideas.
“Sounds perfect,” he says, surprising me with the gentle sincerity in his voice. “Absolutely perfect.”