After My Hockey Star Cheated, I Married His Rival

My phone buzzed against the marble kitchen counter. Then it rang. Again and again. Fourteen missed calls.

The screen lit up with a rapid-fire string of messages from Liam.

[Where are you?]

[The game is about to start.]

[Stop throwing a tantrum.]

[If you don't show up, I really won't coax you anymore.]

[You know how important today's interview is.]

I stared at the glowing text bubbles. *Coax me.* He actually thought I was pouting over a minor disagreement. Ten years of cleaning up his messes, and he still treated me like an emotional teenager throwing a fit.

I picked up the device and typed a single reply.

[Go to the game first. I have something important. I'll be there after it ends.]

I tossed the phone into my purse. I smoothed a hand down the lapel of my crimson silk suit. Adrian had told me to dress for war. I was ready.

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the concrete walls of the arena. The third period was wrapping up. I bypassed the VIP boxes and headed straight for the private player lounge.

I pushed the heavy oak door open.

Sophia stood by the leather sofa. She wore a replica of Liam’s jersey, the fabric pulled tight across her chest.

She crossed her arms. A mocking smirk twisted her painted lips.

"You really are a tail that can't be shaken off," Sophia said.

I closed the door behind me. The lock engaged with a sharp click.

"You saw it yesterday, and you're still willing to appear by his side," she continued, her voice heavy with fake pity. "I almost feel bad for you, Evie. Almost."

I walked toward her, stopping three feet away. "Was our friendship fake too?"

Sophia laughed. The sound bounced off the locker room walls, sharp and grating. "From the very start."

"Ten years," I stated.

"Ten years of easy access," she corrected. "I approached you for Liam. I knew he was going to be something big, but he only trusted you. I just didn't expect you to be so gullible."

I kept my expression entirely blank. "You used me."

"You made it so easy! I asked questions, you gave me answers. I wanted to know his favorite food, his schedule, his insecurities. You handed it all over." Sophia stepped closer, invading my space. "Every contact you made, every sponsorship deal you negotiated—your resources slowly became mine. You did all the heavy lifting, and I reaped the rewards."

"You think stealing a client makes you a success?"

"He isn't just a client." She tapped a manicured finger against Liam’s name on her jersey. "Now Liam is about to become a world-class hockey star. And I will be his wife."

"And what does that make me?" I asked.

"You?" She scoffed, looking me up and down. "You'll just be that failed manager. The stepping stone we left behind. You should just pack up your desk and disappear before it gets embarrassing."

The door flew open, slamming against the wall.

Liam rushed into the room. He still wore his skates and full gear, sweat shining on his forehead. He immediately stepped between me and Sophia, shielding her from me.

"Evelyn, why are you bullying her again?" Liam shouted.

I looked at the man I had spent three years building into a superstar. His jaw clenched. His eyes darted between me and the woman cowering behind his massive frame.

"Bullying her?" I asked.

"I told you to leave her alone," he snapped. "Sophia is sensitive. You always come in here demanding things and stressing everyone out. Today is a massive game for me. Why are you trying to ruin it?"

I didn't argue. I didn't raise my voice.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. I opened the saved screen recording from last night and hit play.

Moans and giggles filled the quiet lounge. The video showed them tangled on the hotel bed. Liam's distinct voice echoed from the tiny speaker, praising Sophia in ways he had never spoken to me.

I held the screen up to his face. "Explain."

Liam's face drained of color. He stared at the moving image, his Adam's apple bobbing. He reached out to snatch the phone, but I pulled it out of his reach.

"This..." He swallowed hard, his eyes wide with panic. "This is just a misunderstanding."

I tilted my head. "A misunderstanding?"

"Yes!" Liam stood taller, puffing out his chest under the shoulder pads. "We're just creating hype for the fans. You know how the PR game works, Evie."

"Hype," I repeated.

"Exactly. More exposure means more money." He stepped forward, trying to sound convincing. "A scandal boosts my search rankings. The paparazzi love a love triangle. Isn't that what you want? You always tell me to maximize my market value."

"You slept with my best friend to maximize your market value."

"It's just business," he insisted. "You're overreacting. You always take things too personally. We are a team, Evie. This helps the team."

A laugh bubbled up in my throat. It started small, then grew louder. I couldn't stop it. The sheer audacity of his lie was almost impressive.

"You think this is funny?" Liam snapped.

"I think you are pathetic," I said, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of my eye. "You aren't a mastermind playing the media. You're just a coward who can't keep his pants zipped."

His expression twisted into pure rage. The shame cracked his confident facade.

Liam raised his gloved hand and swung.

The heavy padding struck my cheek. The force snapped my head to the side. A sharp sting radiated across my skin, followed by the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

Sophia gasped.

I stood frozen. I didn't reach for my face. I didn't flinch. I just turned my head back and stared dead into his eyes.

"Enough," Liam snarled, stepping back as if my presence disgusted him. His chest heaved. "Stop acting crazy. Arrange the post-game interview. I expect the press waiting in ten minutes. If you mess this up, I'll fire you."

He grabbed Sophia’s hand. "Let's go."

They walked out, leaving me alone in the silent room.

I raised a hand to my burning cheek. I pressed my fingertips against the rising welt.

My phone buzzed in my palm.

I answered without looking at the screen. "Yes."

"The media has arrived," Adrian said, his deep voice cutting through the ringing in my ears.

"All of them?" I asked.

"Every single sports network you requested. They are setting up the cameras right outside his locker room."

I tasted the blood on my bottom lip. "Good."

"Are you ready to burn it down, Evelyn?"

"Strike the match," I told him. "And Adrian?"

"What?"

"Make sure the microphones are turned all the way up. I want the whole world to hear him burn."