Page 3 of Secrets of the Past (Secrets of Mustang Island #3)

T wenty Years Later

Nicole Reyes was going to bury this bastard.

Derrick Reddick.

The man accused of gunning down his pregnant girlfriend, Bianca Laurent, in cold blood.

A girl with whom Nicole resonated, as the young woman had just received her admittance letter to law school.

The young woman who loved a man from a very wealthy family – a family who wanted him to marry someone with a pedigree like his.

Not a young woman whose family was middle-class.

There was so much about this case that left her cringing inside with the realization this could have been her. Only Tripp wasn’t a murderer.

Nicole had built her entire case piece by piece, with meticulous precision. She had the motive. She had the means. And she had enough circumstantial and forensic evidence to put Derrick behind bars for the rest of his miserable life.

Today was only the pre-trial, but the weight of the case already hung in the air like a summer storm.

The media would be watching. The town hanging on every word as a very prominent family and a middle-class Catholic family with strong ties in the community awaited justice.

One had lost a loved one, and the other would soon lose their son, if she had anything to do with it.

She didn’t care.

Let them watch her win.

Nicole’s heels clicked sharply against the marble floor of the courthouse hallway as she strode toward Courtroom 2B, briefcase under her arm, coffee in hand, jaw set with determination.

Her dark green blouse was tucked into high-waisted slacks, her blazer tailored to perfection, her dark hair swept into a smooth, professional chignon.

The fisherman’s daughter had come home with a law pedigree. No longer was she the girl from the poor side of town. Her life now pulsed with purpose, supported by a salary that allowed her to savor the comforts she once only dreamed of.

She had returned to Mustang Island to care for her aging parents. What she hadn’t expected was to step right into a trial this high-profile, or one this personal. But this trial gave her something she hadn’t felt in years, a purpose, a reason to face the town that had once shattered her heart.

When she entered the courtroom, Craig Allen, her second chair and longtime mentor, was already seated at the prosecution’s table, scanning his notes. He glanced up as she approached.

“Morning, Reyes.”

She slid into the first chair beside him. “Morning, Allen.”

“Ready to wreck this guy’s life?”

“Absolutely.” She peeled the cap off her coffee and took a steadying sip. “Let’s nail him to the damn wall.”

A shuffle of movement across the aisle made her glance toward the defense table.

And just like that, the breath caught in her lungs.

No.

No. No. No.

Sitting at the defense table, looking infuriatingly sharp in a navy suit, his tie slightly loose like he never really needed to try, was Dustin “Tripp” Masterson.

Her ex-husband.

Her high school sweetheart.

The boy who’d vowed to love her forever, and shattered her heart less than forty-eight hours after they’d said “I do.”

Her stomach dropped. Her pulse roared in her ears.

“What the hell?” she whispered. “He’s not Victor Lawson.”

Allen leaned in. “Something wrong?”

She forced a smile, her jaw clenching. “I know the defense counsel. And he’s not Victor Lawson.”

“Victor had a heart attack. I guess this is the new guy. Is there a problem?”

Now she understood why he was here. His name had not been on any of the pretrial motions.

“We were... close. A long time ago.”

“Need to recuse yourself?”

“Not a chance!”

This was her case. Her courtroom. Her win.

She wasn’t about to let Tripp Masterson walk in here and take that from her.

Not again. Her freshman year wasn’t defined by textbooks or exams, but by the ache of losing the boy who vowed to love her forever… and left her within a single day.

Craig smirked. “Everyone knows the Masterson family around here.”

Oh yes, she knew the Masterson family very well. A father ruled by a wife who could make the Wicked Witch look like a saint, a woman steeped in venom, with more vile than anyone she’d ever known, and one she prayed would stay gone from her life forever.

She had heard that Tripp’s father had passed away recently, and her first thought had been, did his wife kill him? Too bad his witch of a mother was still alive.

“And not in a good way,” Nicole muttered. “Talk about a family full of drama-filled divas.”

He chuckled, flipping through his file.

“Bad blood?”

“You could say that,” she said.

Their past was steeped in more bad blood than she cared to confess, betrayal, lies, and a runaway groom. She told herself he must have gotten cold feet. And still, she couldn’t forget their wedding night, so sweet, so unrepeatable, that no one else had ever come close.

Across the aisle, Tripp finally looked up. Their eyes locked.

And just for a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.

All the memories of them as kids surged through her, only to end with that final morning after their wedding, the morning he never came back.

She’d waited for hours, dread coiling tighter with every minute.

And when the truth finally came, it wasn’t with words spoken face-to-face, but with an email, cold, distant, final.

His lips parted slightly. Recognition hit him like a slap.

Then disbelief.

Then something else, something she didn’t want to name.

Nicole turned away, stone-faced.

She didn’t have time for this. Not here. Not now.

The door at the front of the courtroom opened.

“All rise,” the bailiff called. “The Honorable Judge Carlton Price presiding.”

Everyone stood as Judge Price, a tall, silver-haired man with kind eyes and a reputation for fairness, took the bench.

Nicole straightened her spine.

This wasn’t about Tripp. This was about justice.

This was about Bianca Laurent.

About the life Derrick Reddick had snuffed out without remorse. A man who had killed his own child, along with its mother.

And she wasn’t about to let him get away with it. Any more than she’d let Tripp off the hook for abandoning her, leaving her to break the news of their marriage to her parents alone. He’d promised he’d be back. He never was. And when she showed up at his house, he was gone.

As in forever gone.

The pre-trial began.

“Nicole Reyes, for the prosecution,” she said, standing and facing the judge.

Tripp stood, his voice cool and confident as he faced the judge. “Your Honor, I’m replacing attorney Victor Lawson, who is in the hospital. The defense moves to suppress the prosecution’s claim that this was a premeditated act.”

Nicole stood just as smoothly. “Your Honor, the prosecution intends to prove that Derrick Reddick planned the execution-style murder of Bianca Laurent from the moment he learned she was pregnant.”

“Objection,” Tripp said quickly. “Prejudicial speculation.”

Judge Price looked from one to the other. “Overruled. Proceed, Ms. Reyes.”

Nicole gave a slight nod. Score one.

Her partner, Craig, stood next. “Your Honor, we request to include the defendant’s prior assault charges involving Miss Laurent. They’re directly relevant.”

Tripp’s voice sharpened. “Objection. Prior offenses are not part of this trial.”

“Including an arrest for beating the victim just three months prior?” Craig challenged.

The judge held up a hand. “Sustained. The court will not consider prior offenses unless directly linked by evidence. Move on.”

Tripp exhaled slowly, giving Nicole a sidelong glance.

She ignored him.

“You all right?” Craig murmured as he sat back down.

“I’m fine,” Nicole said through clenched teeth. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been prepping for this case since I returned to the island. I just didn’t prep for... him.”

Across the room, Tripp rose again. “Your Honor, the defense demands that the prosecution hand over all remaining forensic reports.”

Nicole stood again. “Already done, Your Honor.”

“I haven’t received the autopsy report,” Tripp said, eyebrows raised.

Bullshit. If she wouldn’t land herself in contempt, she’d say it straight to the judge’s face. But for now, some truths had to stay unsaid.

Her office had sent the report the moment it was finalized. He was either stalling or trying to bait her. Either way, she wasn’t biting.

“A second copy will be delivered this afternoon, via courier. We will expect a signed signature,” she replied curtly.

The next thirty minutes blurred into legal ping-pong, motions, objections, and clarifications. Once or twice, the heat between Nicole and Tripp threatened to override the legal decorum of the room.

They were volleying like it was Wimbledon, each trying to trip the other up, to make them stumble, to get even for the hurt left behind twenty years ago. It was less a trial and more a game: push every button, hit every nerve, and see who cracked first.

And it damn sure wouldn’t be her.

Judge Price finally raised a hand.

“Counselors,” he said dryly, “this isn’t a tennis match. Let’s keep it civil. Trial date is set for one week from today.”

Craig snorted quietly. Nicole didn’t smile.

Because this wasn’t civil.

This was personal.

And she was still burning. Still waiting to get even.

When the session finally adjourned, Nicole packed her briefcase with swift, practiced movements.

She leaned toward Craig. “I’ve got to go.”

“Want me to run interference?”

She shook her head. “Just get me five seconds of a head start.”

As soon as Judge Price stepped off the bench and into his chambers, she made for the exit, heels clacking a steady beat against the floor.

Behind her, she heard her name.

“Nicole, wait.”

Her blood went cold.

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t turn around.

Didn’t let him see her face.

There would be no reunion, no swapping stories about wives, children, or the missing twenty years that had stretched between them. She hit the hallway, shoved through the doors, and made a beeline for the women’s restroom.

Only once she was inside, alone in the stall, did she let herself breathe.

He was here.

Tripp.

After all these years.

The man who’d married her in a moonlit chapel when they were just teenagers. The man who’d promised her forever... and then walked away like it had never meant anything.

She still remembered the email.

Cold. Distant.

“I don’t think we should talk anymore. I need to focus on school and move on. I want to chase women in college and not be tied down. Please don’t call me.”

She hadn’t.

Years had passed before the hurt dulled, before she could breathe without feeling the sting. But when it came to men, trust remained beyond her reach. The day the truth hit, she shredded her wedding dress and buried the tatters, determined to bury the memory with it.

Until now.

By the time she left the courthouse and reached the sidewalk outside her office, the heat of the afternoon sun had already made her blouse cling to her back.

She was ten steps from the door when she heard his voice behind her.

“Forever looks really good on you.”

Nicole froze.

The words hit like a fist to the spine. The son of a bitch.

Slowly, she turned.

There he stood. Taller. Older. Still beautiful, damn him. But something in his face had changed; there was a weight there now. A shadow in his eyes.

“Partying at college didn’t seem to hurt you,” she replied, her voice tight.

A flicker of confusion crossed his face. “College was twenty years ago.”

“And forever was twenty,” she said coldly. “But for you, it barely lasted twenty-four hours.”

He took a step forward. “You never returned my calls.”

“You never called.”

“I left you twenty messages at least.”

Nicole blinked. “I never got any.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what about the email you sent me?”

She stiffened. “What email?”

“The one that said you didn’t want to hear from me again. That you’d made a mistake.”

Her throat closed. What had happened?

“I never sent any emails to you after you dumped me. I received one from you, saying you wanted to chase women and party.”

“And I never sent the one you received.”

They stared at each other, breathless.

It hit her like a punch to the gut.

Oh my God. We were lied to.

Both of us.

But she wasn’t ready to accept and forgive. Not yet. She needed time to process that they had been duped. Process that twenty years ago, someone had managed to tear them apart.

She shook her head. “As usual, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Nicole—”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about twenty voicemails or fake emails or whatever game this is. You walked away after promising me forever. After saying nothing would come between us. And then obviously someone or something did. I’m over it, Tripp.”

But was she? Her heart had leaped at the sight of him, and even now, all she wanted to do was lay her mouth over his and remember. But that wasn’t going to happen.

She turned on her heel and stormed into her building, heart pounding, throat raw.

Her office was cool, quiet, and blessedly empty. She closed the door, sank into her chair, and finally let her hands tremble.

Tripp Masterson was back.

And now, they weren’t just exes.

They were enemies.

In love. In court. In war.