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“Sullivan, you’re out of your mind,” Williams growls. “We are executing a standard league trade based on Julian’s personal request to return to his hometown. There’s nothing underhanded about this contract…”

My muscles bunch as the rage breaches my throat and I take a menacing step forward. “You lying piece of…”

“Julian, quiet,” Liam commands, not bothering to look at me. He steps in front of Williams’s path. “You manipulated a veteran player using explicit threats against his career stability, his current organization's competitive season, and most importantly, against my daughter’s personal reputation and safety. You used private surveillance photos of a twenty-one-year-old college student to force an athletic asset relocation. That isn't a trade negotiation, Williams. That’s a felony.”

William’s eyes go wide, his jaw dropping, but he quickly collects himself and snaps, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no proof…”

“If you’re going to threaten this man and my daughter with false accusations,” Liam hisses, “I’m going to bring the full letter of the law down on your fucking head. I will demand an investigation into every aspect of your personal and professional lives. Finances. Employment history. Fucking speeding tickets. If you’ve ever even pickpocketed a pack of gum, I will find out, and I will bury you with it.”

I don't know what to do with the sensation filling my chest. It’s a strange foreign weightlessness. I’ve been the person standing in front of the blow my entire life. Having a man like Hadley's father standing like a shield between me and the people trying to break me…it makes something huge and tight crack open in my ribs.

Before Williams can open his mouth to offer another corporate denial, the doors of the room slam open.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: THE CALVARY

JULIAN

“The press conference is canceled!” I frown, confused. That sounded like Jensen.

I spin around, my eyes widening at the sight of my friends crowding into the room.

Jensen is leading the charge with Carson, Owen, Zander, and Jayce flanking him. Right behind them are the girls. They’re flushed, breathing hard, and shouting over each other. Even Theo is here at the back of the group, his jaw set, looking ready to throw down.

Right in the middle of the chaos, her dark hair flying behind her, her brown eyes bright with tears, is Hadley.

“Julian!” she cries out, breaking into a full sprint the second her eyes lock onto mine.

Without hesitation, I rush forward and catch her in my arms, pulling her small body against my chest, lifting her clean off her feet. She buries her face into my neck, her arms locking around my shoulders like an iron vice, her body shaking with a ragged sob.

“I told you,” she whispers into my skin, her fingers clawing into the fabric of my sweatshirt. “I told you we were going to fight.”

“Hey! What the hell is the meaning of this?” Coach Williams shouts. “This is a restricted area…”

“Shut your mouth, Williams,” Skyler snaps, stepping right past the security guards. She doesn't look intimidated in the slightest. Instead, she holds up her phone, practically shoving it in his face. “While Mr. Sullivan was working the legal angle this morning, I spent the last six hours being your worst-fucking-nightmare. Doing a deep-dive forensic audit on your personal server and the digital payment trails from your offshore accounts. Guess what I found?”

Stetson glances down at the screen, and the last remaining drop of color drains from his skin. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

“That’s right,” Skyler cackles. “We have the direct payment routing logs from your office to the private investigator who took those surveillance photos of Julian and Hadley. Even better? We found the digital ledger for the illegal sports-betting ring you and Stetson have been running through a shell corporation in the Cayman Islands. You’ve been manipulating roster information and trade deadlines to shift the betting in your favor for years, haven’t you dipshit?”

Williams and his assistant appear shell-shocked.

“This is absurd,” Williams stammers, his face red with rage. “This is a fabricated digital file…”

“It’s an encrypted federal backup, you idiot,” Carson shouts from the back, his arms crossed over his chest, a smug smirk on his face. “We already blind-copied the league commissioner’s compliance office and the federal sports fraud division. They received the packet ten minutes ago. You would have gotten away with it too, if my wife wasn’t such a genius badass. Eat shit, fuckers!”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door. Skyler grins.

“Ah! I bet that’s the Ironclad owner now,” she declares. “I hope you don’t mind, but I reached out to him and a few of the other executives as well.”

Carson moves to open the door with a flourish. An older, imposing man with silver hair and a black striped suit marches in with another man trailing behind him.

“Williams,” he snaps. “What the hell have you done?”

“Sterling, wait, this is a massive misunderstanding,” Coach Williams starts, his voice pitching higher. He takes a step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “The data the girl has is completely fabricated. We can handle this internally…”

“Shut your mouth, Williams,” Sterling barks. “ Mrs. Monroe just forwarded a copy of her research to our team. You’re done. Both of you.”

Stetson tries to slip backward toward the door, but before he can reach it, it opens to reveal two police officers.