Page 112 of Every Shattered Note
MustLoveMusic:They will be.This is the last time someone else rewrites my life for me.
After this ...I want to come back to you without the noise.Take you on a date, and fall in love with you.
AlyEuphoriaEvents:Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
MustLoveMusic:I’m not.I’ve already broken enough things.I don’t want to break this too.
AlyEuphoriaEvents:Then tell the truth tomorrow.Tell it like you’re writing a song, not a press release.
MustLoveMusic:That’s precisely what I’m going to do.And if anyone asks me who I was writing it for ...I’ll think of you.
Goodnight, Aly.
AlyEuphoriaEvents:Goodnight, Dexter.
ChapterForty-Six
Dexter
March 7, 2001
The lights are too bright.
They hum against my skin.The camera’s red-light blinks steadily from the corner, and somewhere behind it, a dozen networks are waiting to broadcast whatever I say next.
Eddie stands off to the side, arms crossed, jaw tight.He’s scared I might go rogue, but I won’t.He approved this and this is what I will follow.The legal team hovers behind him like a storm.I can feel their nerves pressing into the air—every inhale timed with mine.
I adjust the mic in front of me.The sound screeches once before settling into silence.A bottle of water sits unopened at my right.A single page of bullet points rests beside it.I won’t be using either.
I glance at Eddie.He gives a slow nod, as if saying,don’t fuck this up.
And then the light above the camera turns green.
We’re live.
“My name is Dexter Vaughn,” I begin.My voice sounds calmer than I feel.“And I’m done letting everyone speak about me without repercussion.”
A pause.
“I’ve been written, rewritten, reimagined, dissected, and sold.My name’s been dragged through headlines and hotel lobbies since before I could legally drink.And for a long time, I thought that was the price of legacy.That silence was the only way to survive it.”
My fingers brush the edge of the podium.The wood is cool beneath my skin, calming.
“But I’ve learned throughout the years that silence isn’t survival—it’s surrender.”I pause, press my lips together.“My silence makes me look guilty in your eyes and I shouldn’t give two fucks about how you see me.But I do when it affects those around me.The people I love, my employees, and every person who depends on me.So, I’m done surrendering.”
I look up, straight into the camera.I want them to feel it.
I want him to feel it.
“There’s been renewed speculation about an incident that happened in 1983, involving my father, Victor Vaughn, Jr.You’ve seen the stories, the doctored footage, the recycled lies dressed up as new evidence.Some media outlets are calling it The Vaughn Files—because a man’s trauma apparently makes for great TV.”
The room stills.Chairs don’t creak.Nobody coughs.
Eddie’s jaw ticks, but he lets me keep going.
“The truth is simpler.Uglier.And it doesn’t trend as well.”
I pause—just long enough for it to sink in.
