After My Hockey Star Cheated, I Married His Biggest Rival

Silence stretched across the cellular connection.

I pushed open the heavy metal doors of the arena exit. The chilly night air bit at my cheeks, a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the VIP corridor.

Only the faint hum of background static filled the gap between us.

Then, Alexander Blackwood laughed. The sound was harsh, scraping like ice skates over rough concrete.

"You have a lot of nerve calling me, Sophia," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.

"I have a business proposition." I kept my pace steady, heading toward the empty parking lot.

"We don't do business. We do war. You made sure of that."

"Wars end, Alexander. Alliances shift."

"Mine don't." Ice clinked against glass through the speaker. "You spent three years turning my sports agency into a punching bag just to elevate Ryan Walker. You poached my top draft picks. You leaked that gambling rumor about my head coach to the press."

"I protected my client."

"You protected your boyfriend. You played dirty to get him ice time."

"It worked," I countered, stopping under a flickering streetlamp. "He won the championship tonight."

"And now you want my help?" Alexander scoffed. "Why should I lift a single finger for you? You're a glorified assistant who carries his bags."

"Because I am offering you fifty million dollars."

The line went dead silent. The clinking of ice stopped.

I checked my nails. My pulse remained unnaturally calm. I should have been crying. I had just watched the man I loved defile my best friend on a live broadcast. Instead, I felt nothing but a cold, hollow drive.

"Excuse me?" Alexander finally asked.

"Fifty million dollars. Liquid capital. Transferred directly into Blackwood Sports Group by Friday morning."

"You don't have fifty million dollars."

"I do."

"A PR manager doesn't carry that kind of wealth." His tone sharpened, probing for the lie. "Where does a girl who fetches hockey gear get that kind of money?"

"My last name is Sinclair."

A heavy pause hung in the air.

"Sinclair," Alexander repeated. "As in Arthur Sinclair? Sinclair Media?"

"I am his only daughter."

"The runaway heir." Amusement laced his words now. "The industry thought you vanished. You threw away a billion-dollar media empire to manage a skater's Instagram account?"

"I believed in him."

"You were an idiot."

"I know." I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. "I gave up my inheritance. I cut ties with my father. I played the starving PR rep so Ryan wouldn't feel threatened by my success. I built his entire career from the ground up."

"Love makes people stupid," Alexander noted.

"Which is why I am completely cured."

"So you caught him cheating."

"I caught him throwing me away." I stared at the concrete pavement. "I'm done being an idiot, Alexander. I want to rip his life apart, piece by piece. And I want to do it myself."

"And you think fifty million buys my loyalty?"

"I think fifty million buys your attention. The rest of my offer buys your loyalty."

"Go on."

I resumed walking, my footsteps echoing in the empty lot. "I am going back to my father. I will take my rightful place at Sinclair Media. When I do, I will control the broadcasting rights for the entire league."

"Arthur won't just hand you the reins after three years of silence."

"He will. He wants me back. He hates Ryan more than you do."

"Arthur is a shark. He'll want a contract."

"I'll sign whatever he wants. I don't care about the money anymore." I stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. "I will funnel every prime-time game, every exclusive docuseries, and every major endorsement spotlight directly to Blackwood Sports Group."

"You'd sell out your own family's neutrality?"

"I'll hand you the monopoly. You will own the sports media landscape in North America."

Alexander exhaled slowly. "You are handing me the keys to the kingdom."

"If you help me crush Ryan Walker."

"I want him ruined," Alexander stated. "Not just benched. I want his sponsors gone. I want his fans turned against him."

"I want him to look around and realize every single thing he has is gone, because I took it away."

"And the model?"

"Chloe Bennett." I spat the name out. "She's a parasite. We squash her too."

A low chuckle vibrated through the speaker. The amusement morphed into genuine approval.

"You really are a Sinclair. Ruthless."

"Do we have a deal, Alexander?"

"I always hated that arrogant prick." The smile in his voice was unmistakable. "I love making my enemies lose everything. But I want to be the one holding the match."

"We can light it together."

"My driver is pulling up to the arena's east exit right now," Alexander commanded. "Get in the car, Sophia. We have a contract to write."

A sleek black town car rounded the corner, its headlights cutting through the dark. It rolled to a stop exactly three feet from where I stood.

The rear window rolled down, revealing the shadowy interior.

"Don't keep me waiting," Alexander murmured before the line clicked dead.