After My Fiancé Cheated with My Best Friend, I Led His Greatest Rival to the World Cup

Julian stood in the doorway, his hands hovering in the empty space between us. A plastic water bottle dangled from his left grip.

"Evie?" he asked again. "What's wrong? You look pale."

"Don't touch me," I said.

His smile faltered. He lowered his arms, the plastic bottle crinkling under his tightening grip. "I just wanted to see if you were okay. You took a nasty hit out there. Everyone was worried."

"I'm fine. Back up."

I turned away from him and faced Adrian. The fog in my head was lifting, replaced by a sharp, cold clarity.

"Adrian," I said, my voice steady. "Tell me the exact date. Today."

Adrian wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. "May 18, 2023." He tilted his head, studying my face. "Are you sure you're okay? Did that soccer ball knock you silly?"

*2023.*

My heart hammered against my ribs. I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't bleeding out on a highway in 2026. I was exactly three years in the past.

I just joined the team staff a week ago. Today was the intra-squad scrimmage. I walked too close to the sideline, a stray ball nailed me in the temple, and I blacked out.

"I have some painkillers in my bag," Julian offered, stepping closer again. He reached out, trying to place a hand on my shoulder. "And extra water. I can bring them to your desk every day until you feel better."

I slapped his hand away. The smack echoed loudly off the metal lockers.

Julian flinched, his eyes wide with shock. "Hey! I'm just trying to help."

My stomach churned.

That was his playbook. The daily water bottles. The painkillers. The constant, hovering attention. He played the devoted caretaker until I confused his manipulation with love. He made me feel indebted to him.

"Keep your medicine," I snapped. "And stay away from my desk."

Julian blinked, his mouth falling open. "Evie, what is your problem? We're friends."

"We aren't anything," I said.

I shifted my gaze downward. Past Julian. Straight to Adrian's feet.

His right ankle.

It was perfect. The skin above his cleats was smooth, unbroken by the jagged surgical scars that would ruin his career in a few months. Right now, Adrian was the undisputed star of the club. The golden boy. He moved with a natural grace that coaches drooled over.

Julian was the eternal runner-up. The shadow.

"He's fine, Julian," Adrian interjected, his deep voice bouncing off the rusted lockers. "Give her some space. She just woke up."

Julian's jaw hardened. He shot Adrian a venomous glare before masking it with a forced chuckle. "I'm just looking out for our new staff member. No need to bark orders, superstar."

I remembered the night Adrian's career ended. An "accidental" tackle during practice. Tendons torn. Bones fractured. I had cried for Adrian, mourning the loss of such brilliant talent.

Julian had held me on the couch, stroking my hair. *With him gone, you can finally see me clearly,* he had whispered.

Back then, I thought it was just petty jealousy. A poor choice of words from a frustrated athlete.

Now, staring at Julian's resentful eyes, the truth hit me like a physical blow. He did it on purpose. He destroyed a man's life just to move up one spot on the roster.

"Julian," I said, my tone dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah, Evie?" he asked, his voice dripping with fake innocence.

"What happens if Adrian disappears?"

Julian froze. The color drained from his cheeks. "What?"

"Will I see you more clearly then?" I asked.

He took a step back, his cleats scraping harshly against the linoleum. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're not making sense."

"You hate playing second string," I pushed, taking a step toward him. "You hate watching him score while you ride the bench."

"Shut up," Julian hissed, glancing nervously at Adrian. "You're concussed."

"Get out," I commanded.

"Evie, you need a doctor—"

"I said get out!" I shouted, pointing at the heavy metal door. "Before I call security."

Julian flinched. His chest heaved as he stared at me, searching my eyes for any sign of a joke. Finding none, he spun around and marched out. The door slammed shut, rattling the hinges.

Silence settled over the locker room. The flickering fluorescent light buzzed above us.

Adrian crossed his arms, his biceps straining against the thin fabric of his jersey. "What was that about?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," I said.

"You just chased off the friendliest guy on the team."

"He's a snake," I countered. "And you need to watch your back around him."

Adrian let out a short, dry laugh. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, do you want me to walk you to the nurse's office or not?"

"I don't need a nurse." I closed the distance between us, stopping just a foot away from him. "Let me be your agent."

Adrian stared at me. His dark eyes widened, and he dropped his arms to his sides. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Fire your current representation. Let me manage your career."

"You?" He pointed a finger at my chest. "You just joined the operations staff. You organize travel logs and hand out practice bibs."

"I can do a lot more than that."

"You don't have a license. You don't have contacts."

"I know the game better than anyone in this building," I said, holding his gaze. "I know exactly how much you're worth, and I know your current agent is settling for terrible endorsement deals because he's too lazy to negotiate."

Adrian's brow furrowed. "How do you know about my endorsements?"

"Your agent just signed you to a four-year deal with Apex Cleats," I said, pulling the memory from my past life. "They restrict your ankle mobility. You hate them. You complained about the stiffness during practice yesterday, but he told you to suck it up because the upfront payout was huge."

Adrian's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody told me. I pay attention." I stepped closer, forcing him to look down at me. "I will make you the brightest soccer star in this league. Trust me."

Adrian shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're crazy. The ball really did do some damage."

"The Federal Cup is starting soon," I pushed on, refusing to back down. "It's the biggest tournament of the year. Scouts from every major European club will be watching."

"I know what the Cup is."

"Then you know this is your window," I said. "I will make sure you play your best on the field. I'll handle the noise. I'll handle the press. I'll keep leeches like Julian out of your way."

Adrian shifted his weight. His smirk faded, replaced by a calculating stare. "And what do you get out of this?"

"Ten percent," I said without missing a beat. "And the satisfaction of watching you leave this mediocre club behind."

He rubbed his chin. "You're serious."

"Dead serious."

"Give me one good reason why I should trust a rookie assistant with my entire future."

"Because I already know what happens if you don't," I said. "You stay here. You play in cheap cleats. You get tackled by a teammate who hates your guts, and you spend the rest of your life walking with a limp."

Adrian narrowed his eyes. The buzzing of the overhead light seemed to grow louder. He studied my face, searching for a crack in my confidence.

"You talk like you can see the future," he muttered.

"Maybe I can."

"Fine," Adrian said, his voice dropping an octave. "Prove it."

"Tomorrow's practice," I replied instantly. "Coach is going to run the new offensive drill. He's going to put Julian on the left wing, and he expects you to feed him the ball."

"That's standard play."

"Julian will drop the pass," I said. "Three times. Coach will get mad, blame you for bad passing, and bench you for the second half of the scrimmage."

Adrian scoffed. "Coach loves me. He wouldn't bench me over a dropped pass."

"Julian will make it look like your fault. He's good at that. Don't pass to him. Take the shot yourself."

"That's a selfish play," Adrian argued.

"It's a winning play. Do it, and when Coach praises your initiative, you'll know I'm right."

Adrian uncrossed his arms, leaning in slightly. "And if you're wrong?"

"Then I'll pack up my desk and quit."

A heavy pause hung between us. Adrian looked at the locker room door, then back to me.

"Alright, Evie," he said. "Let's see if you're as smart as you think you are."