“Considering we all share bodily fluids,” Cora says with a laugh, “I don’t think sanitary matters anymore.”
Dom’s expression is priceless—a mixture of horror and amusement that makes the rest of us burst out laughing.
“She’s got you there,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hard to argue with that logic when you’ve had all three of us.”
“Fine,” Dom concedes, his lips twitching. “But if the health department shows up, I’m blaming all of you.”
Ryder ties the black apron around his waist with a flourish, leaving his ass completely exposed. “Chef’s special coming up! Who wants blueberries in their pancakes?”
“I do,” Cora says, hopping onto a stool at the kitchen island. She winces slightly. “Though I might need a cushion after what you three did to me last night.”
I slide behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder. “Worth it though, right?”
She turns her head to kiss my cheek. “Every fucking second.”
Dom pours us all coffee, moving around the kitchen with the same commanding presence he brings to the boardroom—even while completely naked. It’s strangely domestic, this moment between us.
As Ryder flips pancakes with a dramatic flourish and Cora argues with Dom about the merits of maple syrup versus honey, I feel something settle in my chest. A certainty I haven’t known since before my sister died.
Pike might be powerful. He might have the media, the political connections, and the ruthlessness to try to destroy us. But he doesn’t have this bond between us that transcends sex and desire. This makeshift family we’ve created from the ashes of our broken pasts.
Whatever hell William Pike tries to rain down on us, I know we’ll survive it. Together, we’re powerful enough to withstandanything. And when this is over, we’ll be the ones standing victorious.
48
CORA
Istare at my reflection in the greenroom mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back. My hands tremble as I smooth down the front of my navy blazer. In minutes, I’ll be sitting across from Eliza Hammond, one of the most respected journalists in the country, about to tear down the image my father has maintained for decades.
“You look beautiful,” Dom says, appearing behind me in the mirror.
“Are you sure about this?” Ryder asks, perched on the arm of the couch. “We can still pull the plug.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been silent all my life. That ends today.”
Liam approaches with a glass of water. “Remember, stick to the facts. Let the evidence speak for itself.”
I take a sip, grateful for the cool liquid against my dry throat. “What if they don’t believe me?” The question slips out before I can stop it—the fear that’s been gnawing at me since we planned this interview.
“They will,” Dom says firmly. “Martha’s documentation is irrefutable.”
A production assistant knocks on the door. “Two minutes, Ms. Pike.”
The three men move in unison, surrounding me like a protective fortress. Liam squeezes my hand while Ryder kisses my forehead. Dom cups my face in his hands, his eyes intense.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “Your father can’t hurt you anymore.”
Walking onto the set feels like moving through water. The lights are blinding, the studio audience a blur. I take my seat across from Eliza, who smiles encouragingly.
“Today we’re joined by Cora Pike, daughter of Mayor William Pike, who has come forward with serious allegations against her father,” Eliza begins. “Ms. Pike, thank you for being here.”
I take a deep breath and look directly into the camera, picturing my father watching. We agreed that I won’t disclose the possible information regarding my father murdering my mother and leave that to the courts.
“For as long as I can remember, my father has abused me behind closed doors while maintaining a perfect public image.” My voice comes out clearer than I expected. “Today, I’m breaking my silence.”
I reach for the folder beside me, removing photographs of bruises, medical records, and Martha’s meticulous documentation. As I spread them on the table between us, Eliza’s professional composure falters momentarily.
“These are just some of the records of abuse spanning two decades,” I say, my voice growing stronger with each word.
