Chapter Seven Love After the Damage #2
Jarvis looked at Makayla. “You lead.”
She looked back at him. “We lead.”
His eyes held hers.
That word again.
We.
Only now it no longer felt forced.
It felt chosen.
Seven minutes later, Dirty Little Proof went live for the third time in two days.
Makayla stood in front of the dining table. No perfect lighting. No makeup touch-up. No soft filter. Her sleeve was still torn under the black jacket, her hair was not as smooth as it had been that morning, and her eyes showed every hour she had been awake.
She looked real.
Jarvis stood beside her this time.
In frame.
No hiding behind her.
No standing in the background like a shadow.
Beside him stood Maribelle Dane, holding Niko’s hand. Auntie Zella stood on Makayla’s other side. Vasha sat behind Trevon, sending files. Renzo sat in a chair, bruised and miserable, waiting to speak again.
The viewer count climbed so fast the numbers blurred.
Makayla looked into the camera.
“Morrow Bay, listen carefully,” she said. “Selene Rusk is holding a press conference in less than an hour. Before she tries to sell the city another edited story, we are going to give you the clean receipts.”
Jarvis stepped forward.
His voice was low, controlled, but different from before.
Less polished.
More honest.
“My father’s name was Orin Draven. For years, he ran clubs, private rooms, and shell businesses that protected violent men, corrupt officials, and people who paid to make women disappear on paper. I exposed part of his network years ago. I did not expose all of it. That failure is mine.”
Makayla looked at him.
He did not look away from the camera.
“I thought destroying my father meant destroying what he built. I was wrong. Pieces remained. People remained. Selene Rusk used those pieces to bury cases, protect clients, and blackmail the same people she now claims to be exposing.”
Trevon displayed two files side by side.
Selene’s public leaked board.
The clean original evidence.
Makayla stepped back in.
“What Selene released today is a dirty mix of truth, lies, edited files, and planted claims. She attached my name to it because she wanted Dirty Little Proof blamed for the chaos. She attached Jarvis’s name because his father’s sins are the easiest weapon against him.”
Her voice hardened.
“But we are not here to hide from the truth. We are here to separate it from the lies.”
The screen changed.
Amira’s old statement appeared, with personal details blocked.
Makayla forced herself to keep steady.
“My sister, Amira Serrin, told the truth years ago about Vernon Ladd. She was nineteen. Selene Rusk’s notes show she knew a camera existed. Her notes show she planned how to make Amira look unstable. Her notes show she identified my family as vulnerable to pressure.”
The notes appeared.
Line by line.
The comments exploded, but Makayla did not read them.
“If Selene Rusk says she did not bury evidence, ask her why she had the footage. Ask her why she edited it. Ask her why she protected a man listed in Orin Draven’s ledger.”
Jarvis’s jaw tightened beside her.
Makayla continued. “Amira survived. She told the truth the first time. Tonight, we say her name with respect.”
Auntie Zella placed a hand on Makayla’s back.
Makayla breathed.
Then she stepped aside.
Maribelle came forward.
Her hand trembled around Niko’s, but her voice was strong.
“My name is Maribelle Dane,” she said. “Years ago, Orin Draven hurt me. Jarvis Draven helped me escape. I disappeared because I was afraid. I stayed hidden because I had a son to protect.”
Niko leaned against her side.
Maribelle’s eyes filled, but she stayed upright.
“Calia Morvant used my son as leverage today. Selene Rusk wanted old files tied to Orin’s network. Calia thought my son was a key to money. He is a child. He is innocent. His name will not be used for blood money.”
Jarvis looked down briefly.
Maribelle glanced at him.
“Jarvis did not kill me,” she said. “He did not bury me. He helped me live. But survival after violence is bigger than escape. I want every woman listening to know this: hiding kept me alive, but telling the truth today gives me back my name.”
Makayla’s throat tightened.
The comments were moving too quickly to read now.
Trevon switched to the next file.
Renzo’s messages.
Vasha’s payment records.
The law office transfers.
Renzo leaned into frame, holding his ice pack like a man who had lost the right to be proud.
“I’m Renzo Kitt,” he said. “I fed tips through Dirty Little Proof. I took money. Some came through accounts connected to Selene Rusk’s office. Calia Morvant was used as cover. Vasha Ellery forwarded tips to Makayla after I paid her, but Vasha did not know about Amira, Maribelle, or the full setup.”
Makayla looked at him sharply.
Renzo lifted his bruised face.
“That don’t clear her,” he said. “But it tells the truth.”
Vasha began crying silently behind him.
Makayla did not turn around.
Not yet.
Jarvis stepped forward again.
“Calia Morvant is in custody for kidnapping, assault, and conspiracy tied to what happened at Old Briar Hospital today. Evidence has been turned over to legal counsel and state investigators. We are also sending the clean Draven files, with verification records, to federal authorities and victim advocates before any public release.”
Makayla looked into the camera.
“That matters,” she said. “Because dirty people love to dump pain online and call it justice. I have been guilty of moving too fast. I will own that in front of everyone. Dirty Little Proof will pause after tonight and rebuild with verification, legal review, victim consent, and protection for people whose stories are being told.”
She took a breath.
“But this page will not die because Selene Rusk learned how to fake receipts. It will become harder to use. Harder to trick. Harder to weaponize.”
Trevon put one last document on the screen.
A formal complaint packet.
Selene’s name.
Calia’s name.
Renzo’s statement.
Amira’s evidence.
Maribelle’s statement.
Ledger comparison files.
Makayla said, “Selene, if you are watching, this is the part you understand. Documentation. Timestamps. Witnesses. Chain of custody. Clean files. You taught women how hard proof has to work. So we worked harder.”
Jarvis’s hand brushed hers.
This time she took it.
On camera.
The comments lost their minds.
Makayla did not care.
She looked into the lens one last time.
“The game was dirty because people like Selene made the rules. We are done playing by them.”
Trevon ended the live.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then the room erupted.
Phones rang. Alerts screamed. Trevon’s screens flooded with messages from attorneys, reporters, investigators, women sending names, women sending stories, people demanding Selene answer what had just been shown.
Vasha broke down fully, covering her face.
Renzo muttered, “I need a witness protection program and a new jaw.”
Auntie Zella said, “You need Jesus and a job application.”
Even Maribelle laughed once through tears.
Jarvis still held Makayla’s hand.
She looked down at their joined fingers.
Then up at him.
“You know the city saw that,” she said.
His eyes held hers. “Good.”
Her stomach flipped.
Before she could answer, Trevon looked up sharply.
“Selene canceled her press conference.”
Makayla’s eyes narrowed. “Canceled?”
Trevon nodded. “Hotel confirmed. She left through a private exit fifteen minutes ago.”
Jarvis’s face hardened. “She’s running.”
Makayla shook her head. “No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Makayla stared at the screen, thinking of Selene’s calm smile, the way she liked control, the way she liked being the last voice in the room.
“She’s not running,” Makayla said. “She’s repositioning.”
Jarvis turned to Trevon. “Track her.”
Trevon was already typing.
Seconds stretched.
Then one of Jarvis’s guards entered from the foyer, holding a tablet.
“Boss,” he said. “There’s a woman at the front gate.”
Jarvis’s hand tightened around Makayla’s.
“Who?”
The guard looked at the tablet again. “Selene Rusk.”
The room went cold.
Makayla’s heart slowed.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
Selene did not want police. She did not want press. She did not want a courtroom yet.
She wanted one final room to control.
Jarvis said, “Do not let her in.”
Selene’s voice came through the guard’s tablet before anyone could move.
“I know you can hear me, Jarvis.”
Trevon connected the gate audio to the dining room speakers.
Selene’s face appeared on the screen, framed by the security camera. She stood outside the gate in a cream suit, hair perfect, face calm.
Too calm.
“I came to offer a trade,” Selene said.
Jarvis’s voice was ice. “You have nothing I want.”
Selene smiled. “I have the original ledger.”
Jarvis went still.
Makayla looked at him.
Trevon whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Selene’s eyes moved toward the camera like she could see all of them. “Orin never trusted digital copies. You of all people should know that.”
Jarvis did know.
Makayla saw it on his face.
Selene continued, “You release a statement saying today’s lives were emotionally driven and legally unverified. You stop the complaints. You stop the file transfer. In exchange, I give you the original ledger and walk away.”
Makayla laughed.
The sound surprised even her.
Jarvis looked at her.
Selene’s eyes narrowed through the screen. “Something funny, Makayla?”
Makayla stepped closer to the monitor. “You came all the way to the gate because you’re out of doors.”
Selene’s smile sharpened. “I came because I know how this ends.”
“No,” Makayla said. “You know how it used to end.”
Selene’s face cooled.
Makayla continued, “You offer the powerful a way to save themselves. You give them a file, a threat, a clean sentence, and a private exit. Then everybody else bleeds quietly. But the problem is, you already taught us what private exits cost.”
Selene stared into the camera.
Jarvis spoke then. “Where is the ledger?”
Selene smiled at him. “There he is. Practical as always.”
Makayla looked at Jarvis.