I look down, and my stomach drops. It’s my mugshot.

The one from the night I left. The one Cory’s been holding over my head for years. The one that nearly cost me everything.

My pulse roars in my ears. My vision blurs at the edges, the world is closing in too fast, too tight.

No, no, no.

I grip Vic’s sleeve so tight my nails sink into his skin. My knees feel weak, the air turns suffocating, and suddenly, I swear I hear echoes of that night—glass shattering, fists pounding against walls, Cory’s voice, cruel and violent.

A distant ringing floods my ears, muting everything around me. I see lips moving, hear muffled voices, but I can’t process anything but that image of me— wild-eyed, bruised, and hair tangled.

The reporter begins reading off charges. Assault with a deadly weapon. Destruction of property. Battery.

My head spins. My pulse roars. My past is unraveling backwards in front of the entire world.

Vic doesn’t hesitate. He immediately moves to shield me, wrapping his arm around my waist and ushering me into the building.

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.” He whispers into my ear. His voice is gentle, commanding, and safe.

I nod weakly, pushing down the rising panic. Then, our phones explode with notifications.

Beverly Mills-Greer Crew

Gabe: That mugshot wasn’t in the files we recovered. Cory must’ve leaked it.

Serena: Don’t let this ruin your night. We’re handling it.

Hawkins: I’m sorry. We didn’t see this coming. We’ll fix it.

Mom: We love you Kerry!

I clench my jaw, shoving my phone back into my clutch.

Vic turns to me, his expression pure concern. “Let’s go back to the lake house.”

“No.” I say, my voice is firm and steady.

“This is your night, Vic.” I lift my chin, squaring my shoulders. “And we’re going to celebrate you.”

“Kerry—” His brows furrow.

“You said I decide what I wanna do, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well,” I state, unashamed. “I’m going to be here to support you. That is if you aren’t ashamed of me.” My voice dips, a bit of insecurity seeping through.

A smirk forms on his face, and he pulls me in for a kiss. “Are you kidding me? I’m the luckiest man here.”

Though I feel my past clawing at my skin, trying to pull me back into its grip, I refuse to be buried in old wounds. Vic extends his hand, and I accept graciously, allowing the chaos to swirl around me while I enter the colosseum with my head held high.

The awards show is buzzing with energy, the kind that hums in the air like electricity. I feel it all—the lights, the prying eyes, the weight of my whispered name on every tongue, but I don’t let it touch me.