Prologue
GRAYSON
Nine years ago
I used to always say hate is a strong word and only use it sporadically.
Yeah, I lied.
I hate my bitch of an ex-girlfriend. I hate her so much I wish hell would swallow her whole.
She’s sitting on the stand, lying under oath, and the jury is putty in her hands. Kendall is crying fake, dramatic tears, as she lies about how I raped her.
Raped her.
I’m fucking baffled. Never would I touch a woman out of turn. If a woman doesn’t want attention, to be touched, or anything else, a man stops. That’s how it is. That’s how it should be. A man needs to respect a woman. Without women, men wouldn’t have a damn thing.
I believe that to this very moment, and it’s why I’m so angry. Kendall knows I’d never touch her like that. I’d never force myself on her. I loved her, and a sick part of me still does, even knowing her betrayal.
A month ago, Kendall Johnson reported me to the cops for rape. I was half asleep when I was arrested at my home near midnight. I was told my charges and read my rights. I thought there was a mistake, but Kendall played the perfect actress. Anytime we saw each other around court, she looked at me with fear.
I thought, okay, the one thing I have on my side is evidence. And then, that hope was taken away from me.
The rape kit found that she was telling the truth since she had bruises on her wrists and an injured cervix. My DNA was found inside her which was the nail in the coffin for me. We had been together for three years, so we didn’t wear protection. She was on birth control, so we weren’t worried if we got pregnant. I thought we were going to get married. I stupidly thought I found the person I was going to spend my life with.
As for the bruises, Kendall liked rough sex. She liked to be bound and fucked hard. But the morning we had sex, I remember it because it was subpar at best. She put in no effort. It was quick, no passion whatsoever, and she rolled out of bed quicker than I could finish my orgasm. I knew then our relationship was over, but I had no idea she held such disdain for me to accuse me of something I didn’t do.
She was fucking someone else in order to have the bruises and the injured cervix. I didn’t do that. She must have worn a condom with him, or the guy pulled out. Either way, she’s a lying, cheating, whore.
And I hate her just as much as I loved her.
“What happened next, Ms. Johnson? After you got home from work.” Her lawyer leans against the podium and invades her personal space. The way he’s staring at her makes me wonder if he’s the guy she had sex with the same day as me. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe she’s just spreading her legs for him too to get out of paying lawyer fees.
Not a bad idea considering I’m paying for the best goddamn lawyer in the state of California, and he hasn't done anything for me. I guess there isn’t much to be done. Everything points to me, and my word isn’t enough.
“Well, he started kissing me, and I said no.” She sniffles and dabs under her eyes as she cries. “I had a long day at work, and I wasn’t in the mood. You girls get that, right?” she asks the jury, and all the women are wearing sympathetic looks on their faces.
I’m a fucking dead man.
I’m not disregarding the importance of rape. I believe the men or women who do it need to be charged and found guilty. There’s no doubt about that.
But this? I didn’t do this. I am not this kind of man.
I bury my hands in my hair and try to take a deep breath. My eyes burn from the enormous weight of the situation and the reality of my life being over. Once I have this on my record, I won’t be able to do anything with the family company. My dad has already cut me off, and all I have left is my trust fund. I’m lucky. I know that. I’ll have that when I get out of prison.
I know that’s where I’m going.
I loosen my tie when the room starts to get hot. I’m sweating.
“Are you okay?” my lawyer whispers out of the side of his mouth.
Is he an idiot? Do I look okay? Does anything about this situation seem okay? How the hell did he pass law school?
“Well, he didn’t like that answer. He tossed me on the bed and ripped off my clothes and pinned my wrists above my head.” She pulls her long sleeves away from her wrists and shows the jury the faded bruises that are now yellow instead of the deep blue in the photos. “Then he slapped me across the face.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter under my breath when she touches her cheek, as if remembering the pain I caused her.
“Then he lifted up my skirt and ripped my panties off, and then he…” She swallows and looks away from her lawyer.
“And he what, Ms. Johnson?”
“And then he unzipped his pants and forced himself on me.”
“What does ‘force himself’ mean? Did he kiss you? Hold your legs? What did he do exactly, Ms. Johnson?”
Her lips wobble as her eyes search the room, and when they land on me, her lips part. Nothing about her looks beautiful to me anymore. Her brown hair I was once so obsessed with looks like a tangled rat’s nest, and her eyes are too small for her face. Or I’m just seeing how ugly she really is on the inside, and it’s making her outside match.
I meet her stare, and years of memories play in front of me. The moment we first met, our first kiss, the sound of her laugh, our first Christmas, the happiness… Everything was a lie.
The hesitation in her answer tells me she knows what she is doing is wrong, but if she knows, why is she doing it?
“And then he put his penis inside me, even after I said no. He kept on. I couldn’t fight him off. I mean, look how big he is!” She points to me as another tear falls down her cheek. This tear is real. I can tell. Her eyes always get squinty when she is actually sad, and her face gets blotchy.
Like it is right now, and her face has been clear as day the entire trial.
I’m six-five and in shape. The jury is having no problem imagining me overpowering her.
“I thought we would be together forever. I thought he was my one true love. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, but after what he did, no way. No woman deserves that.”
“Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor.” Her lawyer smirks at mine as he walks back to his table.
My attorney stands and ambles forward, unbuttoning his blazer and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Ms. Johnson, you said that you loved him, correct?”
“That’s correct,” she says in the microphone, and it takes all I have not to laugh. She never loved me. If she did, she wouldn’t be doing this. It all makes sense now. She’s a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and I’m the rich guy she dug her claws into, and like a fool, I let her.
“But you and Mr. Campbell have been in a serious relationship for years. He has no criminal record, no other women have come forward to corroborate your story or have similar situations. Nothing in his behavior says that he is the kind of man to do such crime. Now, on the day you accused Mr. Campbell of rape, you were seen with another man—” The jury whispers to one another, and my lawyer turns his head and winks at me over his shoulder.
I sit up straighter from this news. This is the first I’ve heard of it. Finally, fucking hope flares in my chest. Maybe he is worth the hefty price tag.