After My Hockey Star Cheated, I Married His Biggest Rival

"Cut the third question about his defense strategy." I tapped my pen against the metal clipboard. "Ryan hates talking about his mistakes on the ice. Focus on the game-winning goal."

Mark, the broadcast assistant, hesitated. "The network wants a balanced interview, Sophia. The fans want to know why he missed that block in the second period."

"I manage his PR." I stared him down until he shifted his weight. "I know what plays well. Stick to the script. We highlight the victory, nothing else."

"Fine. But the sponsor wants him wearing the new watch during the segment."

"He hates heavy watches," I countered, adjusting the collar of my blazer. "Tell him it comes with a hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. He'll put it on."

"Got it." Mark checked his earpiece. "Press is also asking about his personal life. Any updates on the engagement rumors?"

"Deflect." I crossed my arms. "Keep the focus on the trophy. We announce the engagement next month, after the sports magazine cover drops. Timing is everything."

"You really map out his entire life, don't you?"

"That's my job."

Mark hurried off down the arena corridor. The deafening roar of the crowd seeped through the thick concrete walls. Ryan Walker had just secured the championship. As his manager—and his girlfriend of three years—I needed this night to be flawless. I had spent months orchestrating this exact moment.

My phone vibrated against my hip.

I pulled it from my pocket. A text message lit up the screen. It was from Chloe Bennett, my best friend of ten years.

*Watch this right now,* the message read.

A hyperlink sat just below the text.

"Must be the new ad campaign numbers," I muttered to myself.

I swiped the notification and tapped the link.

A live video feed loaded. The lighting was terrible, casting long, dark shadows across what looked like a plush hotel suite.

Two figures tangled together on a velvet sofa.

A woman giggled. Her face remained half-buried in a man's neck. "Stop it, you're going to mess up my makeup."

"Who cares about the makeup, Chloe?" a rough voice responded.

My thumb froze over the volume button.

Ryan.

He shifted his weight, and the camera caught the sharp line of his jaw. A fresh, purple bruise marked his left cheek—the exact bruise he got from a nasty check during the second period of tonight's game. There was no mistaking the rising hockey star of the season.

And the woman wrapping her bare arms around his neck was the newly famous model from his latest sports apparel shoot.

My best friend.

"Ryan, wait, the camera is on," Chloe said. She pushed his shoulder playfully.

"Good. Let them watch," Ryan grunted.

He buried his face in her neck again.

"Stop, people are commenting," Chloe laughed. She reached out and tilted the phone slightly. "Look, they recognize you."

"Course they do. I'm the MVP."

Text scrolled rapidly up the left side of the screen. The viewer count climbed by the thousands every second.

*User99: Wait, is that Ryan Walker? Didn't he just win the cup an hour ago?*

*HockeyFanatic: That's definitely Chloe! The model from the billboard!*

*SpicyTea: Are they dating?? What about his manager?*

*PuckBunny: OMG they are so hot together.*

A conversation from three weeks ago slammed into my present reality.

"Chloe, you can't just leak paparazzi photos of yourself at the club," I had warned her over coffee.

"Why not? It gets clicks," she had argued, stirring her latte.

"It gets the wrong kind of attention. You're a model now. You need prestige, not cheap scandal."

"I have a better plan, Soph. A massive one." She had smiled, a sly, secretive curve of her lips. "Will you support me?"

"Always. You're my best friend."

Now, watching her slide her hands under Ryan's shirt on a live broadcast, the pieces snapped together. Her brilliant plan to secure her fame was stealing the hottest athlete in the league.

"Someone just asked where your girlfriend is," Chloe noted, reading the screen.

"Who cares?" Ryan pulled back. He grabbed his discarded jersey from the floor and wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Chloe asked. She glanced directly toward the phone propped on the coffee table. "What if Sophia finds out?"

Ryan scoffed. He tossed the jersey aside, his expression twisting with pure arrogance.

"Let her find out." He sneered, grabbing Chloe's waist.

"She's been with you for three years, Ry. She built your brand."

"I built my brand." He ran a hand through his damp hair. "I score the goals. She just answers emails."

"She's going to be so mad," Chloe teased. Her tone lacked any real sympathy.

"Without me, Sophia is nothing." He leaned in closer to the camera. "Her biggest value is paving the way for my career. She negotiates the deals, I take the credit. Once the season wraps, I'm done with her anyway."

"And me?" Chloe whispered, trailing a fingernail down his chest.

"You're the prize." He crashed his mouth onto hers.

I hit the lock button. The screen went black.

The hallway suddenly felt freezing. My hands remained perfectly steady. I didn't scream. I didn't throw the device against the cinderblock wall. No tears blurred my vision.

Instead, a cold, sharp clarity settled into my bones.

"Sophia!"

I turned. Greg, a reporter for the Daily Sports, jogged down the corridor toward me.

"Quick question for the morning edition," Greg panted, holding up his audio recorder.

"Make it fast, Greg."

"Rumor has it Ryan is signing a massive endorsement with Apex Athletics. Any truth to that?"

"We are reviewing several offers."

"And your relationship? Fans are eager for wedding bells after tonight's huge win."

I looked at Greg. The memory of Ryan's lips on Chloe's neck burned in my mind.

"Ryan's focus is entirely on his career right now," I lied flawlessly. "He is committed to his future."

"Great quote. Thanks, Sophia."

Greg hurried away. Once he turned the corner, I opened my phone contacts.

I bypassed Mark. I bypassed the network executives. I bypassed my parents.

I scrolled down to the very bottom, to a name I had sworn never to call again.

Alexander Mercer.

The phone rang once. Twice.

"I told you you'd come back," a deep, gravelly voice answered.

"Alexander." I kept my tone entirely flat.

"Sophia Sinclair. It's been three years. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need a favor."

"A favor? The last time we spoke, you called me a monster. You stood in my office and told me my methods were too ruthless for you."

"I was naive."

"And now?"

"Now I've changed my mind."

"Someone hurt you."

"Someone made a miscalculation."

"Give me a name."

"Ryan Walker. And Chloe Bennett."

"The hockey golden boy and the new face of Vogue. You want me to kill their careers?"

"I want to ruin them," I stated, staring at the heavy double doors leading to the locker room. Ryan would emerge from those doors in exactly ten minutes, expecting a victory kiss. "Will you help me?"

A low chuckle vibrated through the speaker.

"I will burn their whole world down, sweetheart." Alexander's voice dropped, laced with a dangerous promise. "But my help comes with conditions. You know my price."

"I'll pay it."

"Even if it means binding yourself to me?"

"I don't care what it takes."

"Good girl. Come to my penthouse tonight. Let's draft a new game plan."