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He nods, but his face says he’s not convinced.

Caleb exhales. “Alright. We’ll grab an Uber, get you to the airport.”

Eli zips up his suitcase, grabs his jacket, and turns to me. His expression shifts, something heavy settling between us. Then, before I can overthink it, he leans in, pressing his mouth to mine. Quick. A little desperate.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against my lips.

Then he’s dragging his bags out the door, and I’m left standing there, watching him go, wondering how the hell sex turned into this dysfunctional, messy friendship.

Caleb lingers. When the front door shuts behind Eli, he turns to me, his expression unreadable.

“I know it’s kinda late, but I’ve got pizza and video games at my place. If you don’t wanna be alone.”

I exhale. “I’d like that.”

Caleb’s neighborhood is the kind where the houses don’t just look expensive — they look untouchable. The kind with perfectly manicured lawns, security gates, and driveways big enough to park an entire team bus.

“Jesus,” I mutter as we step out of the Uber. “Didn’t know you lived in a mansion.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s just a house.”

“A big-ass house.”

He doesn’t argue. Just unlocks the door and pushes it open. The inside is just as insane with its high ceilings, open floor plan, everything sleek and modern like it belongs in a real estate magazine.

“Do you live with your dad?” I ask, following him inside.

“He’s on a business trip,” he says, tossing his keys onto the kitchen island. “So, drinks? Beer? Whiskey?”

I raise a brow. “Whiskey?”

He grins. “What? I’m fancy.”

I snort. “Beer’s fine.”

He grabs two from the fridge and hands me one before heading for the living room. I follow, dropping onto the couch beside him. He flips the TV on, scrolling through a list of games.

“You any good?” he asks, glancing at me.

I pop the cap off my beer. “At what?”

“Video games.”

I take a sip. “Better than you.”

He laughs. “Alright, then. Prove it.”

I grab a controller. “Oh, I will.”

He smirks. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 27

The courtroom is packed.

Reporters, strangers, people who have no stake in this but want to watch a powerful man fall. I sit next to Mr. Coleman, my hands clenched together so tight my knuckles hurt. My father is ahead of me, standing straight, face unreadable. He hasn’t looked at me since we walked in.

The judge starts speaking. I hear words like fraud, conspiracy, obstruction of justice—all the shit I already knew. Then the sentence.