Page 59 of Landing Liam

Her expression softens, but only slightly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. This story just broke. It’s all over the internet.”

I scroll down, my eyes scanning the accusations, the subtle jabs at my character, the questions about my recent performance. And then, like a blow to the chest, I see it: a reference to an anonymous source who’s been getting ‘close’ to me.

Maggie.

My grip tightens on the phone, my knuckles turning white. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Izzy watches me carefully, her voice quieter now. “Liam, I need to know... is any of it true?”

I shake my head, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. “No. Of course not.”

But even as I say the words, my mind spins in a thousand directions. Did Maggie write this? Is this what she’s been working on the whole time? Was last night just part of her plan?

Izzy steps closer, her tone sharp again. “Then we need to shut this down. You’ve got sponsors, fans, and a family to think about. Call Gail. Call your publicist. Figure this out. Now.”

I nod, my body moving on autopilot as I dial the number. But deep down, one thought keeps replaying in my head: Was Maggie part of this? And if she was... why the hell does it hurt so much to think she might have used me?

Iz studies my face as I hang up with Gail, her brows knit with worry. “What are you thinking?” she asks quietly, her tone unusually soft for someone as bold as her.

“We need to find the source that leaked this information,” I steadily say despite the storm raging inside me.

Her lips press into a thin line. “Do you think it’ll cost you the competition?”

I shrug, trying to play it cool, but the weight of the situation presses heavily on my chest. “I can easily refute it. Take a drug test, prove it’s all bullshit.”

“But that doesn’t erase the damage to your reputation,” she presses, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “This kind of thing sticks, Liam. People love a scandal.”

I nod slowly, the truth of her words cutting deeper than I’d like to admit. “Who knows what the fallout will be,” I say, my tone clipped, betraying the frustration I’m trying to suppress. “Even if I clear my name, the doubt will always be there for some people.”

Iz exhales heavily, crossing her arms. “You’ve worked too hard for this to get taken away by some rumor. Do you think—” she hesitates for a fraction of a second, “—do you think Lyla had anything to do with it?”

The question hits me like a sucker punch. My jaw tightens, and I feel the air thicken around us. “I don’t know,” I admit, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth. Lyla’s the most logical answer for a source. But those damning text messages I saw on Maggie’s phone point to her, too. “I’d like to think no. But do you ever really know someone?” My throat constricts, and I shake my head.

Iz places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. But Liam,” she pauses, her gaze locking with mine, “it could have been anyone, right?”

I don’t answer her right away. Because deep down, I know that if it was Maggie who betrayed me, it’s not just my career on the line—it’s my heart.

The moment we step into the lobby, it’s like the air shifts. Conversations halt mid-sentence, and a thick, almost tangible silence blankets the room. One by one, heads turn in my direction. Eyes narrow, judgment already etched into their gazes. Then come the whispers—low, venomous murmurs that spread like wildfire, curling around me as if to strangle the truth I haven’t even been given a chance to defend.

They think I’m guilty.

My jaw tightens, but I keep my head high, forcing my steps to remain steady. I refuse to let them see the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Izzy matches my stride, her presence a steadying force as we move through the suffocating tension.

The cold hits me like a slap when we step outside, snow crunching under our boots. I glance around the parking lot, and there they are—my entire family, huddled together in a tight circle. Their voices carry, overlapping in a cacophony of concern and speculation.

They’re talking all at once, not noticing me at first. But as I approach, their chatter dies down.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Let the interrogation begin.”

Izzy shoots me a side glance. “Just tell them the truth, Liam. They’ll have your back.”

I want to believe her, but as their worried faces turn toward me, I’m not so sure. The weight of their expectations—and their disappointment—feels heavier than the snow piling up around us.

Mom steps forward, her face a blend of steely determination and maternal worry. “We need to figure this out,” she says, her tone brimming with urgency.

“I know,” I reply, though the words feel hollow in the face of the mounting pressure. My throat is tight, and it’s all I can do to keep the swirling storm of doubt and anger from showing.

She moves closer, placing her hands firmly on my shoulders. Her grip is comforting, but I can see the fear lurking behind her strong exterior. “No, Liam,” she continues, sharply. “We need a plan. This isn’t going to blow over on its own. We need Gail. Now.”