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“Something’s wrong,” she blurts out, fingers tapping quickly on her phone screen.
I turn off the do-not-disturb mode on my own and stiffen at the surge of messages and missed calls that fills the screen. Bits and pieces of each message is all I catch before Dougie’s calling.
Answering instantly, I put my phone to my ear. “What happened?” I ask, skipping a hello.
“You need to get to the arena. Now. Bring Braxton with you,” he orders. There’s a nervous wobble in his voice that I have nevereverheard before.
My eyes fly to Braxton as she jumps out of bed and hastily gets dressed. Her phone is against her ear, but her words are muttered, quiet.
“Don’t blindside me, Dougie. Tell me what’s going on, and we’ll head there right now,” I say.
“I need you to bring everything you have about the break-in with Braxton’s car and any proof you have that she’s filed a police report. The car window has been repaired, right? Drive it here.”
“Slow down, man. Yes, it has—we got it repaired the next day—but what does her car have anything to do with needing to be at the arena? You’re freaking me out right now.”
There’s a shuffle, and then my dad’s voice replaces Dougie’s. “Hey, Dox. I need you to listen to me right now and not lose your cool once I’ve finished speaking. You’re with Braxton right now, right? Your mom is on the phone with her right now, but you can’t freak out and scare her any more than she most likely already is.”
I gulp, nodding, even though he can’t see me. “Okay,” I breathe.
“Have you spoken about the fake relationship agreement recently? Maybe in her car sometime after it was broken into?”
“Uh . . . maybe? We’ve talked about it lots, Dad. Recently and not so recently.”
“Okay. Well, there was another article written on Sports Weekly this morning, and there’s a recording of Braxton talking about the agreement, confirming that it was fake and in turn breaking her NDA. They’re claiming they recorded a conversation with her after she requested to give an interview with them. It’s been picked up on bigger platforms since it was posted and is circulating all over social media now. The VW are pissed, Dox. Really, really pissed. Alexander wants you both in his office as soon as possible.”
A cold flush slips from my head to my toes. Panic digs into my gut.
“What do you mean there’s a recording of her?”
Dad blows out a heavy exhale. “Dougie and I think there’s a bug in her car. We have to look to be sure.”
“There is one. She wouldn’t have met with a news outlet,” I state harshly.
“We know, son.”
“She was hurt. She was pushed and hit her head when they planted that bug. She could have—”
“Maddox. Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I bark, shoving myself out of bed, fists curled at my sides as I stride out of the room, too scared to look at Braxton on my way out. “Who posted the article? Tell me the name of this guy so I can teach him not to fuck with my family. I wonder how he would like getting shoved onto the concrete.”
“Rose Carpenter.”
I freeze.
“Fuck!” I shout, squeezing my eyes shut. That fucking snake. “What are they saying about my girl, Dad? Why is Mom on the phone with her?”
“She’s just telling her exactly what I’m telling you because we knew you would be too upset to do it. It will be okay. We’ll get this figured out,” he attempts to reassure me.
“Alexander needs to watch his mouth around her. The minute he tries to pin this on her, I’m done.”
“We’re going to be with you to make sure that doesn’t happen, and then we’ll figure everything else out together.”
“The cops said it was just an attempted carjacking. That she interrupted the guy and he pushed her to get away. They pulled the security footage from the clinic, but the guy wore a mask. Nothing came from it. It won’t prove anything to Alex.”
“Worth a shot. A broken NDA is serious. We need anything that could help take the heat off of her. As far as your contract goes . . .”
“You don’t think there will be one. Yeah, I figured as much.”
