Page 94 of Dirty As Puck
This isn’t just survival anymore. It’s my beginning, and I’m doing it on my terms.
The ballroom sparkles with chandeliers and camera flashes. My heels click against the polished floor as Kai and I step through the entrance together, his hand warm at the small of my back.
I can feel the eyes on us instantly, the media swarm, phones raised, lenses zooming in. My throat tightens. For months, every headline wrote my name like it was poisonous.
Tonight, I’m daring them to write a new one. The reporters don’t shout accusations. They ask about us.
“Rochelle, how does it feel to stand by Kai tonight? Kai, is this official?” Their tone isn’t sharp, but it’s curious, almost celebratory.
Kai doesn’t hesitate. He slides his fingers through mine, squeezing it like a promise. “It’s official,” he says with that steady confidence that makes everything feel unshakable. The crowd erupts with excitement.
I’m aware of every flash, every microphone, but for the first time, I don’t feel like their prey. I feel exposed, yes, but not hunted. I’m vulnerable in the way love makes one vulnerable, like stepping into bright light and deciding it’s safe not to flinch.
We move deeper into the event, posing for photos near the charity banners. The coverage is instant. I catch a glimpse of the headlines on my phone.
From Scandal to Love Story. Kai Reynolds and Rochelle Winters Step Out Together. Not twisted, not cruel. Just… real.
My chest loosens. This is the story they’re telling now, not Derek’s poisonous lies, not my supposed disgrace, but the truth.
The man who let me into his guarded world, and me, the woman who refused to give up on him.
As we stand shoulder to shoulder, Kai leans down just enough for me to hear, his voice low and grounding. “They can write what they want. I only care that you’re here.”
I smile up at him, the cameras still flashing, and for once, I don’t feel consumed by them. I feel seen. Truly seen.
Boxes fill the hallway, my handwriting scrawled across cardboard edges. Kai insists on carrying the heavy ones himself, but I catch him grinning when he sets them down in his living room, about to be our living room now. The thought makes my stomach flutter in a way no newsroom headline ever could.
It doesn’t take long before the house is full. His foster siblings arrive first, with arms open for a hug, voices loud, and their energy spilling through the door like sunshine.
I’ve read about them in his recent interviews but meeting them in person feels like stepping into the missing chapters of his story.
“So you’re the woman who finally cracked him open,” one teases, pulling me into a hug before I can answer. The others chimein with laughter, easy banter, and inside jokes that Kai rolls his eyes at but can’t quite hide the fondness from.
I’m nervous, at first. These are the people he grew with. The family that taught him to survive. What if I don’t fit? What if I never measure up?
But the warmth is disarming. They ask about my work, about the exposé, about how Kai and I met. I tell the stories carefully, watching their smiles widen, their teasing grow softer. It feels like being folded into a circle I never knew I needed.
Then Tommy, of course, has to ruin me with a smirk. “She’s sister-in-law material, don’t you think?” he throws the question into the room like a spark.
My cheeks blaze hot as everyone bursts out laughing. Kai groans, tugging me closer like a shield. But the truth is, the words don’t scare me. They land with surprising sweetness, like maybe, just maybe…I belong here.
Weeks later, it’s my turn. My parents sit across from Kai at my dining table. My father studies him the way he does every problem, sharp-eyed, and weighing every word.
My mother can barely stop smiling when Kai takes my hand mid-conversation without hesitation.
Approval comes in the smallest gestures, my father’s nod, then my mother’s hand over mine, but it feels monumental. My two worlds, once so separate, are colliding and softening around each other.
When I look at Kai across the table, laughter bouncing off the walls, it hits me fully. This isn’t just his family or mine anymore. This is ours.
The stage lights are literally blinding, and hotter than I expected. My palms sweat as I grip the award, the plaque heavier than it looks.
Applause crashes around me, both familiar voices, and unfamiliar ones, some of the same colleagues who once called me reckless, unprofessional, finished. Now they’re on their feet, clapping like I belong here.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. This isn’t just validation, it’s resurrection. My name isn’t attached to scandal anymore. It’s tied to the truth. To bravery. To a story that mattered.
I give the expected thank-yous into the microphone, my voice steady, but inside I’m reeling. I should feel triumphant, and I do, but I’m also humbled. Because I know what it costs me to get here.
Every late night, every doubt, every tear I tried to swallow back when the world turned on me. And Kai. Always Kai. Without him, I wouldn’t have found the strength to keep going, let alone win this.
