Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 71

Serena’s POV

The silence after Lucas’s accusation is suffocating.

I read the horror on the faces around me—guests frozen mid-gasp, champagne forgotten in trembling hands. The Bennetts have gone pale as corpses.

My father looks like he’s been struck, his expression caught somewhere between fury and heartbreak. Catherine’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes darting between me and Caleb with an emotion I can’t decipher.

A hundred strangers stare at me with expressions ranging from shock to disgust to morbid curiosity. The phones are still recording. Every reaction, every damning silence, captured forever.

This is it. This is how it ends.

Then Rachel suddenly speaks.

“That’s a fascinating accusation from a man who just assaulted a woman in front of a hundred witnesses.”

Her voice cuts through the tension like a blade, calm and measured despite the chaos.

“Inventing slander to deflect from your own crimes. Trying to make the victim look like the villain.” She turns to address the crowd, her green eyes steady. “This is textbook abuser behavior. Classic manipulation tactics.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true.” Lucas wipes blood from his lip, his smile cruel despite his split skin. “I have proof—photos, videos. Evidence that will destroy both of them.”

“Then show it.” Rachel’s chin lifts, challenging. “Right now. In front of everyone. If you have such damning evidence, why haven’t you displayed it already?”

The room holds its breath.

Lucas pulls out his phone with triumphant confidence, thumbs moving across the screen. I watch him scroll, my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.

This is the moment. The footage he’s been holding over my head for weeks…

Confusion creeps across Lucas’s face. He scrolls again. Checks folders. Opens apps. His movements become frantic, desperate, his confidence wavering with each passing second.

“I don’t understand…” His voice comes out strangled. “They were here. Everything I recorded, everything I saved—”

“Gone?” Rachel’s voice is steel wrapped in silk. “That’s to be expected.”

“What did you do?” Lucas rounds on her, fury replacing confusion. “What the fuck did you do to my phone?!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Rachel’s smile is small, satisfied. “You’re being delusional, imagining things… Isn’t that what you’re used to telling your victims? What an irony.”

Lucas lunges toward her, but Richard Bennett is faster. He grips his son’s arm with white-knuckled force, hauling him backward.

“That’s enough.” Richard’s voice carries the authority of a man accustomed to controlling situations. “Lucas, we’re leaving. Now.”

“Father, you don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly.” The words are clipped, furious. “You’ve made a spectacle of yourself and this family. Whatever else needs to be discussed will happen privately.”

Lucas struggles against his father’s grip, protesting, but Richard’s expression brooks no argument.

He practically drags his son toward a side door, Patricia Bennett trailing behind them with mascara streaking down her cheeks.

They disappear through the service entrance, leaving whispers churning in their wake.

I meet Caleb’s gaze across the room.

His knuckles are bloody, his suit disheveled, a bruise already forming along his jaw. But his eyes hold something I haven’t seen in weeks—hope. Fragile and uncertain, but real.

It looks like we’ve won.

The thought feels dangerous to hold, like it might shatter if I grip it too tightly.

***

When the storm died down, my father approached Richard Bennett in a quiet corner of the estate. We flank him, me, Caleb, Catherine, united as a single front.

Whatever divisions exist within our family, whatever complicated feelings remain unresolved, right now we stand together. Parents and children. Protectors and protected.

“My daughter will be pressing charges.” My father’s voice carries the weight of absolute certainty. “Against Lucas. For assault, for harassment, for everything he’s done.”

It’s over. It’s really over.

“Found you.” She sinks down beside me, her expression caught between concern and fierce pride. “You scared the hell out of me when you disappeared.”

“Sorry.” My voice comes out hoarse. “I couldn’t breathe in there.”

“Don’t apologize.” She wraps the blanket around my shoulders, tucking it in like I’m a child she’s putting to bed. “You just took down the guy who’s been terrorizing you for months. You’re allowed to fall apart a little.”

Rachel appears at the end of the hallway, hesitating until Mia waves her over. She approaches slowly, her own composure finally cracking at the edges, tears sliding silently down her freckled cheeks.

“Is this a private breakdown, or can anyone join?” Her voice wobbles on the attempt at humor.

“Get down here.” I reach for her hand and pull her down beside us.

The three of us sit in a row against the cold marble wall—me in the middle, Mia on one side, Rachel on the other, and something passes between us that doesn’t need words.

We survived this—together. Three women who refused to stay silent, who stood up and spoke the truth even when it cost us everything.

“I can’t believe we actually did it.” Rachel’s voice is barely a whisper. “After three years of everyone calling me crazy, everyone saying I made it up…”

“Thank you for standing up there with me.” I cut her off gently. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Either of you.”

Mia makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “God, we’re a mess. Three women crying on the floor of the Bennett estate. Someone should take a picture.”

“Please don’t.” I manage a weak smile. “I think there’s been enough documentation for one night.”

We laugh together—watery, exhausted, but real. The kind of laughter that comes after surviving something you weren’t sure you’d survive.

Caleb steps back quietly, giving us space. Some battles aren’t his to claim. Some victories belong to the women who fought them.

He slips away down the hallway without a word. But I see him go. I always see him.