Page 99 of The Love Syllabus

After fooling around in the shower, we throw on thick, fluffy robes and settle into the living room, waiting for the groceries to be delivered. Vic pours me a glass of wine, and I curl into his side, enjoying the rare moment of undisturbed peace.

“You know,” he presses his lips against my temple, “this weekend is all for you, right? I don’t want you lifting a finger.”

I chuckle. “That’s not realistic.”

“I mean it.” He tilts my chin up, his eyes dark with something dangerous. “You deserve to be catered to for the rest of your life.”

A shiver runs down my spine. “You’re really trying to spoil me, huh?”

“Damn right, I am.”

The moment is perfect. The next few hours are peaceful like a fairytale. But then…hours later while we’re getting dressed for the awards show, I casually ask, “So, is Krista attending?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

That’s all he says. But I see it—the flicker of tension, the subtle shift in his posture, the way his fingers pause mid-button.

“Vic, what’s going on?” I step toward him, brows furrowing.

He sighs, running a hand down his face. “She’s been acting weird. Barely showing up to meetings. We had strategy sessions for season two last week, and she was either late or a no-show.”

My stomach tightens. We really care about Krista. She’s so young and impressionable, the type to be influenced by the wrong people, the wrong man. She reminds me so much of myself. Someone in love with the idea of being with someone special rather than seeing the reality of who they are.

“You think she’s back with Cory?”

His silence confirms it. Then… both of our phones buzz.

Breaking News: Beverly Mill-Greer Police Department Cover-Up — Exclusive by Serena Hall

My phone vibrates violently in my hand. My notifications light up the screen. I don’t hesitate. I click. I read. And my blood runs cold.

Bribes. Disposing of evidence. Intimidation. Obstruction. Racketeering. Harassment.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I quickly read through every damning detail. Then, I see his name.

Cory Martin. A recorded history ofninedomestic violence incidents.

My hands shake as I scroll, absorbing every uncovered police report, every suppressed recording of the night I thought I’d die, the nights I begged for help only to be ignored. Evidence that was buried. Evidence that could havesavedme.

I feel Vic’s presence before I hear his voice. He’s watching me, waiting, sensing the shift in my energy.

For the first time in years, I don’t have to wonder if anyone will believe me. Because now? They can’t ignore it. They can’t ignore me.

Then, I receive another text. A video link. I tap it, and my heart stops.

Krista is standing next to Cory at a press conference. She’s wearing sunglasses, though there’s no sun out, and her body stiff while Cory speaks to reporters.

“This is a witch hunt,” Cory declares. “But in the best interest of my staff and the great people of Beverly Mills-Greer, I’m taking a leave of absence to allow justice to prevail. But I want to be clear, Iaminnocent.”

Vic exhales sharply beside me. Then, I receive another text, this time from my mom.

Mom: This is just the beginning. We’re gonna take that bastard down.

I clutch my phone so tight my hands tremble. Anger, fear, pain, and relief all warring in my chest.

Cory Martin’s reckoning has begun.

And yet, as the weight of justice begins to tip in my favor, fear tightens in my chest because the truth isn’t just about Cory. It’s also about me.

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