Chapter 32

There had never been the intention for Nix to join me at the trial. Not before rumours that we were together started and definitely not after.

But when I stood back in the mirror in my ensemble for the courthouse, I could already feel my breaths quickening.

And I was sick of it.

“Hit me with it,” I said, placing my bag on the kitchen island.

Nix turned, whisking an egg yolk, a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth. He cocked his head to the side in question.

“Show me,” I begged.

He put down the bowl and turned to me before dropping the toast on his plate. He swallowed. “There are some positive—”

“No. All of it,” I demanded. “I need to know before I feed myself to the sharks.”

Sitting me down, he started to scroll through his phone, getting up his pictures. He’d saved different albums.

Livie Positive .

Livie ALL .

Livid.

Livie Support.

“Go from the bottom up,” he said when I clicked on ‘Livid’. “ It didn’t start off well, but it is now.”

But what I opened was not articles. It was all of my nudes and selfies.

“Shit, not that one,” he laughed and reached over to click ‘LivieALL’. “This one.”

I laughed too but it was a nervous one. He put his arms around me from behind as I swiped through. Cocooned in his hold, I could do it.

The last videos and posts were from celebrities I had worked with or befriended. They had all been on the list I’d made with Nix’s mum.

“Did you…” I whispered.

“That was your plan, wasn’t it?” he asked and kissed my neck. “To have your own trial. Well, here it is. All I did was reach out.”

I swallowed the knot of emotion in my throat. He would have spent ages going through the list. Probably while I slept when the tears exhausted me.

“I learned from the best,” he said. “Cesarilooks particularly serious in this one.”

He did.Cesari,Lucaand Dickson all held a huge card that said ‘#JusticeforLivieQuinn.’

“There are thousands of tweets,” he added. “Thousands.”

“I haven’t even said anything,” I mumbled. “I haven’t confirmed or denied.”

“But the world knows,” he said. “The world knows it was you. They also know it’s wrong that they know.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he pressed. “You need time. And I—well, while you can’t fight, I’ll fight for you.”

I scrolled up to see the earlier articles. There were pictures of me. Me and Nix. Me andVinny. Seeing his name beside mine, his hand on my skin made my lip curl.

Seeing the original picture that had leaked clenched my jaw.

When I’d first seen it, I’d been sick. Adam had called me into his swanky new office at PR Princeton and showed me.

He hadn’t known it was my body, even with the tattoo.

We hadn’t had sex since my dad had died. I couldn’t bear the thought after not knowing what had happened betweenVinnyand I.

And when I saw my body next to his, there was nothing I could do but run to the bathroom.

Really, I’d already known. The morning after, the ache between my legs was all I needed to know. But I wouldn’t let the thought fully form. When people asked if I was okay, I gave a smile and a nod and moved on.

If anyone asked, I was fine. I was okay.

Knowing I’d have to face the reality of it in front of everyone made me swallow. Nix rubbed my back through my blouse, looking down at the phone with me. “How bad would it be if you didn’t go?”

I stood straight, heeled feet shoulder width apart, ready to take on the world. “Bad. I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it for others who are innocent and treated like they’re not. The ones who are hounded before trial. My issues are not important here.”

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Your issues are most important to me.”

I pressed into his chest, his words warm on my skin through my blouse. We wrapped our arms around each other. “I don’t want to do this alone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked .

“Yes.”

I knew it was wrong. It would expose exactly what the newspapers were insinuating with their posts about us.

Nix was changed into a blackturtleneckand trousers in seconds. I’d seen him last night trimming his beard and then in our wardrobe, trying to secretly prepare his clothes in case I changed my mind.

The journey over, Nix made the driver play a particularly grisly podcast on a serial killer I didn’t know. He had spent days compiling lists of murderers I hadn’t heard of and finding videos for us to listen to.

Nix’s security team surrounded us as we left the car and walked up to the old building. I was only meant to be a small witness, disclosing the emails I had sent, asking for the papers to desist. I was to tell the jurors of the conversations I had on the phone, demanding to talk to editors and mentioningVinnyGarvs’ mental health as a result of the press attention he was receiving. The constant hounding.

But everyone knew my name.

There was a crowd waiting for us before the security gate to the courtrooms. Our security team — four men, including Nix’s trusty Andrew — quickly dispersed them as we waited to go through the bag search and metal detectors.

Though they couldn’t touch us physically, they could try to hurt me with words.

“Not posted your court outfit on Instagram, Olivia?”

“Claws in a new client?”

“Miss Quinn, Miss Quinn, Miss Quinn—”

“MrArmas, is it true that you and Miss Quinn—”

“Call meArmas,” he snapped, accent strengthening as he emptied his pockets into one of the trays. He waved for me to go through the metal detector first. “ Not MrArmas. Don’t pretend to respect us when you clearly don’t.” Having walked through with a green light flashing above my head, Nix went to step forward but the group around him didn’t budge. He sighed as his team moved further out. “If you did, you would get the fuck out of our way.”

There wasn’t silence until we were entering the courtroom. And I let out the deepest breath on seeing my brother there, waiting for me.

I tried to keep it inside, but I could only swallow down the sob as he held me close.

Since we’d landed, I didn’t have the stomach to talk to him. To anyone.

Nix had called him every night, updating him on how I was doing.

Mum had called him last night grovelling, saying David hadn’t meant to say that to the journalist. It just ‘slipped out’. But I was done with her taking his side. Done.

OluchiEkubostood beside my brother and offered a shy smile. She had chosen all-black clothing as if in mourning; even her headscarf was black.

She offered me a dark hand. “I’m so sorry you’re having to do this.”

I nodded and thanked her for being there.

Vinny’swife, SamanthaGarvs, was standing at the front pew talking to someone, but her grave expression found me before looking me up and down, her nose wrinkled.

I sat.

Under the blazer that I put on my lap, Nix held my hand, stroking my skin with his thumb as the opening arguments were given. Then the witnesses started to be called up, one after the other.

Adam was methodical in his approach. He was emotionless, factual.

The lawyers on both sides were relatively nice to the witnesses. There were no questions that felt out of place or too hounding.

And then I was called to the stand. I swore upon the bible that I no longer believed in and held my arms tightly at my sides. My brother and Nix gave me reassuring nods before the prosecution asked the questions we had already rehearsed.

Yes,VinnyGarvswas struggling with his mental health. Yes, I was a good judge of character for this as we were friends and he had moved into my apartment for a week or so. I’d seen the mental decline.

Yes, towards the end, there were over twenty articles about him a day. Yes, they were deemed negative, not positive, nor neutral.

Yes, the newspapers in question had deleted the majority of their articles on him since his passing. Yes, the copies I had were untampered with. Yes, these were deleted without a recorded apology from two of the three.

Yes,Vinny’slawyer and I had sent cease-and-desist emails, but no cease-and-desist took place.

Yes, an article about him had been published in the last week or so.

Yes, I knew who had published it.

Yes, I had a following on Instagram. No, I didn’t want any more followers. No, that article had not been published to make anyone the victim.

Yes, the article was about me. I stared at Nix as I choked out the words, and he gave a small nod of reassurance. It was my love for him that strengthened my voice. But I never sent any negative stories about him to the press while he was alive. I never pressed publish on a article.

When I sat next to Nix, I no longer cared for all of the press sitting amongst us. My whole body was exhausted, my head thumping. I rested my head on his shoulder and he tucked me under his chin, wrapping an arm around me.

He shouldn’t be here with me, let alone touching me.

I was too tired to care.

SamanthaGarvstook the stand and swore on the Bible before sitting down. Her blinks were more frequent than usual, and she fidgeted with the sleeve of her blouse.

The first few questions were similar to mine; how had the trial impacted his life, how drastically had his mental health changed. She answered in a similar fashion to Adam, reserved and factual.

“The negative press started when a picture of MrGarvsand a woman was released in The Running Post, wasn’t it?”

Samantha said, “Yes.”

“And how do you think the newspaper received this image?”

She looked across the room, chest rising with a deep inhale and her gaze narrowed on me. “I sent it to them.”

The lawyer asked a follow-up question but I didn’t hear it. My ears only rang as I sat up straight and blinked at her. Eyes were on me. Nix’s hand was in mine under my jacket and he squeezed my fingers but my hands were numb. Everything was numbing as my breaths increased.

It didn’t change anything. I didn’t feel angry. I didn’t feel shocked. I simply… I simply didn’t feel .

And I wasn’t here to be a spectacle. I stood and walked out, looking straight ahead and hearing my brother and Nix following closely behind .

Out in the dark-walled corridor, Nix talked me through the panic attack he thought was coming. But it wasn’t.

We’d been friends. We’d gone out for dinner on double dates. We’d gone shopping for wedding guest dresses together.

And she’d known it was me in that picture. She had known it was me when she sent it to them. She hated me.

I didn’t have the energy to cry or scream.

I cut Nix off mid-sentence. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

But, in there, I simply sat on the toilet seat and stared without thought. I probably had ten minutes before Nix would come in to find me — he’d done it before, I didn’t doubt he’d do it again — but time ceased to exist.

There was movement outside the cubicle and then the sound of heels on the floor.

I just wanted to be alone.

And when I opened the door, I saw her standing there, reapplying her red lipstick in the mirror.

My voice was hoarse. “Samantha.”

She met me with hostility, a glare through the reflection.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, holding onto the sink.

She looked me over with disgust, top lip curling.

“I hope you know it wasn’t planned. I didn’t want to, I was blacked out, I don’t even remember—”

“I know you didn’t want it,” she snapped. “I saw the video.”

She shook her head in disbelief and popped her lips before swiping the edge of her lipline.

“The video? ”

She turned to me, snapping her lipstick lid on and chucking it into her bag. “He was a piece of shit. Recorded what he did to you on his laptop. Put it on the family computer. You were just lying there… there was no way you could consent.”

The floor felt so far away and yet like my head could crash into it in less than a second. Like my body had grown light and heavy, lifting like a feather, ready to fall and smash into the ground like a wrecking ball.

I swallowed, part of me ready to lose it and weep.

I’d cried so much. I didn’t want to cryanymore.

“So, you knew?” I shouted. “You knew all along that it was me? That he raped me? You released that knowingly?”

She looked me up and down with sympathy. “I had to look out for myself, for my family. If he was a cheat, he was a piece of shit. I could divorce him. If he was a rapist, that would ruin his career. That would ruin my child’s life. As I’m sure you’re aware, how people perceive you is what can make or break you.”

“You’re a fucking bitch.” I didn’t know if it was awful to say, knowing the circumstances of what she was going through, but I didn’t know if I caredanymore. “And you never reached out to ask me if I was okay?”

“Turning you against him would help me more than anything. I didn’t want your sympathy.” She closed the clasp of her bag. “Still don’t. Now, excuse me.”

“We could have done this together,” I shouted after her. “If you’d come to me, I wouldn’t have been in the dark for so long.”

“It was him that did this to you, not me.”

I followed her desperately. “Yes, he was the monster, but you posted that picture. I wasn’t certain what happened until I saw it.”

She shrugged, hand on the door to the corridor. “I did you a favour then, didn’t I? I opened your eyes to what he was like.” She looked over her shoulder to see me standing there, mouth hanging open.

A favour? Being in the dark, staying his friend, second guessing myself — and she thought she’d done me a favour?

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, tension leaving her body. “I’m sorry for what he did to you, but I, again, am not responsible for your pain. I have to look out for my child.”

And I let her go, feeling like I might collapse to the floor. I rested my head against the cold, tiled wall and breathed, remembering Nix’s voice counting up to ten and back down again. Remembering that I had done my bit.

I didn’t have to stay.

I checked myself over in the mirror, untucked my hair from behind my ear and left.