“These bruises,” I continue, pointing to a particularly disturbing photo, “were from when I suggested running for city council myself. He said no daughter of his would oppose his policies.”
Eliza leans forward. “Your father has built his reputation on family values and integrity in office.”
“It’s all a lie.” My voice doesn’t waver. “The man who preaches about protecting families couldn’t go a week without leaving marks on me. The man who talks about integrity is anything but honest.”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I’m about to say. “While I wasn’t privy to the details of his work, I’ve witnessed enough to know his corruption extends beyond our home. He’d make calls in his study about ‘taking care of problems’ and ‘making things disappear.’ I heard him discussing bribes disguised as campaign contributions.”
I glance toward where Liam, Dom, and Ryder stand just off camera, drawing strength from their presence.
“Mayor Pike doesn’t solve problems legally—he eliminates obstacles through intimidation and abuse of power. Look what he’s done to the man I love and his friends—targeting their businesses, fabricating ethics complaints, planting stories in the press.”
The interview airs that evening. By morning, #CoraSpeaksTruth is trending. Clips flood social media, my bruises and testimony have been shared millions of times. The phone won’t stop ringing.
“The governor’s office called,” Liam says, scrolling through his phone. “They’re launching a formal investigation into Pike’s administration, and he’s been called to court to face charges.”
Dom hands me his tablet showing news coverage. “Three council members have already called for his resignation pending investigation.”
“The DA wants to meet tomorrow,” Ryder adds, setting down coffee in front of me. “They’re specifically looking at campaign finance violations and potential witness intimidation.”
My hands tremble as I scroll through thousands of supportive messages. For every troll calling me a liar, there arehundreds of survivors sharing their stories, thanking me for my courage.
“The Attorney General just announced a special prosecutor,” Liam says, looking up from his phone. “They’re investigating your father for corruption, abuse of power, and financial crimes.”
The weight of my silence has lifted, yet my nerves still hum with electric anxiety. Every notification on my phone brings both validation and terror. I’ve stepped out of the shadows, but the light feels almost too bright.
49
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.
