Page 45

Mackenzie

Later that week, my phone buzzes on Friday afternoon at the office. When I glance down, the words knock the breath out of me.

Grantham: The verdict is in.

It’s late, and this is unexpected. The last three days have been rough, but I’d already resigned myself to getting through the weekend.

Through the glass of the conference room walls, where I’ve been gathered with a team from marketing, I see the same message arrive on Theo’s screen. Then Austin’s. Then Rhys’s.

I quickly send messages to Georgia, Levi’s sitter, and my father. We have a plan. Georgia will stay with Levi until Dad can get there, and Levi will stay with him tonight. I know Theo will need me, and I don’t know how long this will take.

I stand, heart racing, and gather my things. “Please excuse me,” I murmur to the others in the room. “If I don’t see you before you leave, have a nice weekend.”

I crowd into the elevator with the founders, and the ride is silent, a calm before whatever’s coming.

In the Suburban, my hands shake as I send a message to our crisis PR team. Two prepared statements sit ready—one for guilty, one for not guilty. The words are formal, detached.

“I didn’t think it would be this fast,” Theo says quietly beside me.

Three days. Not five. Not ten. Grantham told us that could mean anything. Quick verdicts often lean guilty—but three days? It’s too long to feel confident. Too short to feel certain. Nicole White was good. We wanted to be sure Crystal had excellent representation so it would be hard for her to dispute a guilty verdict, but that also means she could get off.

The ride over to the courthouse on a Friday afternoon is slow. I hope we make it in time. “Don’t worry,” I assure Theo, despite my own concern.

When we finally pull up outside the courthouse, it’s utter chaos. The press has gathered in full force—cameras flashing, voices shouting. Crystal’s supporters wave signs. Others have signs supporting Justin. The noise is relentless, but we don’t stop.

We’re taken in through the back, through underground corridors and guarded doorways. The hallway echoes with our footsteps until finally we emerge in a familiar corridor.

Inside the courtroom, Gina is already seated, holding Graham’s hand tightly.

We take our seats in the row behind them, but no one speaks. The silence stretches and swells.

Then, Judge Baron Childs enters, and the entire room rises. His face is unreadable as he calls for the jury.

They file in, eyes down. Not a single glance in our direction. Not a flicker of emotion. The air stills, holding its breath along with the rest of us.

“Will the foreperson please rise?”

A woman stands. Her hands tremble slightly. Her voice is quiet, almost fragile.

“For the charge of first-degree murder,” she begins, “we, the jury, find Crystal Brown Capriotti…guilty.”

The word crashes through the courtroom like thunder. A gasp ripples across the rows. Gina lets out a sharp sob—just one—and Graham steadies her. Theo’s lips part, stunned, his gaze frozen. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move.

More counts follow. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

Each one hits like a blow.

The room blurs around me. I fumble for my phone to alert the PR company.

Me: Guilty on all counts. Release the statement.

But even as I press send, it doesn’t feel real.

Crystal—a woman we once called a friend, someone who stood beside us in boardrooms, smiled at weddings, cheered us on—she poisoned Justin. She lied. She stole. And from across the world, she spun this nightmare into motion.

Justice has been delivered. But it doesn’t feel like peace. Theo pulls me into a hug, and I hold on, needing something that feels safe. We chastely kiss, not because we’re happy, but because we made it through. We’re still here. Still holding on, even though everything is different now.

Judge Childs nods. “Very well.” He turns to the twelve jurors, ordinary people who carried the weight of this extraordinary case for six long weeks. “Thank you for your service and the care you’ve shown in reaching this decision. We will reconvene one week from today for sentencing. You are dismissed.”

Then, a shift. The judge’s expression hardens as he turns to Crystal’s attorney. “I strongly urge you to do everything in your power to ensure Ms. Capriotti is present for sentencing.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replies.

But I’m pretty sure we all know what that means. Crystal isn’t coming back. Not from the safety of Eastern Europe. While we try to move forward, she’ll be living comfortably behind walls of protection, untouched by the wreckage she left behind.

“Court is adjourned,” Judge Childs announces.

The gavel falls, sharp, final.

And then it’s over.

Not the grief. Not the healing. But the trial. The truth is now written into record.

And we—what’s left of us—walk out, carrying both the justice and the scars.

I don’t even realize Theo’s arms are around me until I feel his breath against my temple.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He’s the one who lost his closest friend, his brother in everything but name.

He gives a tired shrug. “I’m just…glad it’s over.”

My eyes sting with tears. “Justin believed in me,” I whisper, pressing my face into Theo’s shoulder. “He gave me a chance when I didn’t believe in myself.” A bitter laugh slips out. “And I’d trade all of it just to have him back.”

Theo holds me tighter, saying nothing.

Around us, the courtroom begins to shift again—low voices, the shuffle of papers, the groans and pops of benches as people stand. But in the space between us, there’s only stillness. Only memory. Only the quiet ache of what’s gone, and the strength we’ll need to carry forward.

Together.

The weight of the verdict follows us as we walk through the courthouse hallway.

“Let’s go back to my place,” Theo says. “We need food. A drink. Just…something normal.”

I nod, and the others fall into step behind us. No one argues. Work can wait. The press can wait. The world can wait. Tonight, we need each other.

A line of Clear Security Suburbans is waiting outside, quiet and cool. We climb into Phillip’s car. The leather seats welcome Theo and me like a breath of relief.

Theo makes a quick phone call. He chats for a few minutes, and then finishes with, “We’re on our way. Just make sure it’s ready.” A short pause, then, “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

He ends the call and turns to me. “Dinner’s on the way.”

As we approach his building, the chaos outside is impossible to miss. Flashes from cameras spark like lightning. Reporters shout over one another. Crystal’s supporters wave signs supporting her lies. Hope and anger crash together on the sidewalk.

“Front entrance isn’t happening,” Theo mutters. His jaw tenses as he watches the crowd surge. “My building’s security is down there trying, but it’s a mess.”

He leans forward. “Go around back,” he tells Phillip. “And can you call Jim and see if he can’t get some help over here for a few days? I don’t want my neighbors to hate me.”

The SUV slips into the underground garage, and the moment we’re inside, the noise disappears. Mason’s car pulls in just behind us. Caroline is with him. Dillon and Emerson climb out as well, their expressions tight. Gina and Graham follow, still holding hands, still holding on.

Jade and Danica join us a moment later, arms linked with Rhys and Austin.

The elevator arrives, and we all step in together.

Upstairs, Theo’s condo welcomes us with its clean lines and warm light. Tonight, it’s not just a home. It’s a place to breathe again. To let the grief settle, remember Justin, and start healing.

Theo steps forward with calm purpose, crossing the room to a cabinet made of dark wood. His movements are slow, thoughtful, as he opens it and takes out an untouched bottle of bourbon. “Justin’s favorite.”

The cork gives a quiet pop, followed by the soft pour of amber liquid into crystal glasses. We share them around the room, and then Theo lifts his glass. “To Justin,” he says. “You were brilliant. A loyal friend. A pain in the neck. And we miss you every day.” He looks around the room. “We found justice. And we won’t let Crystal escape what she’s done. To Justin.”

“To Justin,” we echo, raising our glasses and touching them together in a single, sharp clink.

The bourbon burns on the way down, and across the room, Gina offers a faint smile.

A few minutes later, soft laughter bubbles up, not forced, just natural. The kind that slips through when grief lets go, even just a little. The guys trade stories, moments that made Justin unforgettable.

“Remember when he got the entire board to sing karaoke?” Dillon says, laughing. “Off-key and proud of it.”

Mason shakes his head, smirking. “Or that charity gala. Full superhero costume. Said he was there to ‘save the kids—and the open bar.’”

For a while, we remember the good times, not the sad ones. No one says Crystal’s name. We leave her out on purpose. Tonight is about Justin—who he was, not who hurt him.

Then Theo’s phone buzzes on the table. He looks at the screen, and his face changes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, grabbing the remote.

The TV flickers on, TubeIt loads, and there she is.

Crystal.

Dressed to impress. Camera-ready.

The video’s view count is soaring, past half a million and climbing fast.

“Unbelievable,” I breathe.

Her voice fills the room. “I just talked to my lawyer,” she says. “And I’m really fucking pissed.” She rants about the trial, the news, and then, she starts blaming us.

She says our names. Theo. Rhys. Austin. Me.

She calls us liars. Says we didn’t tell the truth. That we’re part of some messed-up plan.

Then she goes after Gina.

I look over and watch the light fade from Gina’s face. Her shoulders drop. Graham leans in and whispers something only she can hear. She nods, and quiet tears fall. He holds her hand and doesn’t let go.

“She’s falling apart,” Rhys says quietly, looking at the screen. “And she wants to bring us down with her.”

Jim arrives, like he was waiting for this moment. “We’ll keep security strong,” he tells us. “No one gets through. Not until after the judge relays the sentencing.”

No one argues.

We all know what Crystal’s capable of.

And we’re not taking chances, not again.

Theo turns off the TV when the food arrives, and we manage to focus on what’s happening in this room, rather than anything else. By nine o’clock, Gina and Graham quietly prepare to leave.

“We’ll be there for the sentencing,” Gina says. “I want to see her take responsibility. I want to be in that room.”

“We all do,” I say, and everyone around me agrees.

When the door closes behind them, the condo falls quiet.

I take a deep breath. “Let’s clean up,” I say. “Tomorrow’s coming, and we’ll face it together.”

We pick up plates and clear away the last signs of the night, and then one by one, our friends depart. Healing will take time.

When the elevator door closes for the final time, I reach for Theo’s hand and guide him to bed. He hasn’t slept well in weeks, and exhaustion hangs over him.

“Make love to me,” I tell him. “Use me however you need to.”

His lips crash over mine as we tear our clothes from our bodies.

I lie back on the bed, and he kneels between my legs, his cock in hand. “I need you. All of you.”

I nod, and in the stillness that follows, we find each other again.

Not in spite of everything, but because of it.

Theo looks at me, his eyes full of feeling. He pushes in, and for a moment, we don’t move.

“Please,” I whisper. “I need you.”

His hands find my hips, grounding me. His lips graze my shoulder. Every touch feels like a vow of trust, of safety, of wanting each other completely. We’re not trying to escape anything. We’re choosing to be here, with all the things we’ve been holding on to and all the things we’re ready to let go.

His voice is low, warm. “If it ever feels like too much, just say the word.”

I nod as we find our rhythm, fluid and fierce, soft and certain.

My name on his lips is a promise. His hand in mine, a lifeline. And when we finally fall into stillness, wrapped in tangled limbs and quiet heartbeats, I feel more whole than I have in a long time.

Theo pulls me close, pressing his forehead to mine. “I love you,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for being exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

“I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” I kiss him softly.

And in that quiet space, with the world paused around us, I believe in us.