"Did you see the latest league poll?" Blake asked, cutting into his steak. "Number one fan favorite. Again."
I traced the rim of my water glass. "I saw. The PR team worked hard this quarter."
"I worked hard, Scar. The PR team just rode my coattails." He pointed his silver fork at me. "They just point the cameras. I make the magic happen on the ice."
He flashed that million-dollar smile. I had bought and paid for that smile. Literally.
To Blake Lawson, I was just Scarlett, his devoted, low-profile team assistant. He had no idea I was the CEO of Apex Capital, the primary investor behind his entire hockey franchise. For five years, I funneled millions into his career, pulling strings from the shadows, perfectly content to let him shine.
I touched my clutch purse resting on the table. The ultrasound photo sat right on top, burning a hole through the leather.
"You played well tonight," I said. "But I didn't book the private room at Le Rêve to talk about your stats."
Blake leaned back in his chair. "What's on your mind? You want a raise? You're already the highest-paid assistant on the payroll."
I ignored the slight. "It's our five-year anniversary, Blake."
He froze. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he masked it with a smooth grin. "Right. Of course. Happy anniversary, babe. I have a gift for you back at the penthouse."
He was lying. I knew his schedule down to the minute. He hadn't bought anything.
"I want to stop hiding," I said. "Five years is long enough to be your secret."
He groaned, rubbing his jaw. "We talked about this. The sponsors love me single. The fans buy jerseys because they think they have a chance with me."
"I'm pregnant, Blake."
His whiskey glass stopped mid-air.
"You're what?"
"Eight weeks," I said, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. "We are going public. We are getting married. The secrecy ends tonight."
Blake stared at me. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Before he could form an excuse, the mahogany double doors of the private dining room burst open.
"You lying piece of trash!"
A woman in a red silk dress stormed into the room. She grabbed the nearest champagne flute from a service cart and hurled it at our table.
Crystal shattered against the wall. Shards rained down on the white tablecloth, splashing sparkling wine over my plate.
Blake jumped out of his chair. "Mia? Are you insane? How did you get in here?"
Mia Thorne. The up-and-coming model I had seen on a few billboards my company funded.
She pointed a shaking finger at him. "You told me you were at a charity dinner! You said you had to do press!"
I stayed seated. I placed my hands over my stomach to protect it.
"Blake," I said, keeping my tone perfectly even. "Who is she?"
He didn't look at me. His eyes darted toward the hallway. "Mia, lower your voice. People will hear."
"I want them to hear!" Mia screamed. She slammed her hands onto our table, knocking over my water glass. "You promised me a ring! You said we were going to Paris next week!"
"Shut up," Blake hissed, grabbing her arm.
She ripped it away.
Footsteps thundered in the corridor. A sudden, blinding white light flashed. Then another.
"Blake Lawson! Over here!"
"Is this the rumored girlfriend?"
A dozen reporters shoved their way into the private room. Camera shutters fired like machine guns. Microphones jammed into the space between us.
Blake threw his hands up to shield his face. "Get out! No pictures!"
"Are you cheating on your girlfriend, Blake?" a reporter shouted.
"Who is the other woman?" another yelled.
The situation spiraled in seconds. My phone buzzed on the table. A news alert lit up the screen: *#HockeyStarBlakeCheats trending live.*
Mia spun around to face the cameras. The fury on her face morphed into a tragic, tear-stained mask.
"He lied to me!" Mia cried out to the press. She pointed directly at my face. "He told me he was just having a work meeting with his assistant!"
I stood up. "Mia, you need to leave."
"Don't you tell me what to do, you pathetic little nobody!"
She lunged across the table. Her hand cracked across my left cheek.
The slap echoed over the camera clicks. My head snapped to the side. A sharp sting flared across my skin, hot and fast.
"Scarlett!" Blake yelled.
He didn't step in front of me. He stepped back, moving out of the frame of the cameras.
I touched my cheek. My fingers came away trembling, but my gaze locked onto Mia. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. A cold silence washed over my mind.
"You're just the hired help!" Mia shrieked, playing to the lenses. "You fetch his water and carry his bags! Did you really think you could sleep your way into his life? You homewrecking bitch!"
"I am his partner of five years," I stated, loud enough for the closest microphone to pick up.
Mia laughed, high and hysterical. "Partner? You're an assistant! A glorified maid! He wouldn't touch a desperate climber like you if you were the last woman on earth. I'm his girlfriend. You just forced your way into his bed to steal my life!"
The reporters ate it up.
"Scarlett, is it true you seduced your boss?"
"Blake, did she threaten you for money?"
Blake backed against the wall. "No comment! Security! Get them out!"
He didn't defend me. He didn't tell them about our five years. He didn't mention the baby.
He just let her call me a homewrecker.
Mia grabbed my clutch purse from the table and dumped it out. Lipstick, keys, and the folded ultrasound photo spilled onto the wet tablecloth.
She snatched the photo before I could reach it.
"What is this?" Mia sneered. She unfolded the paper and froze.
The cameras kept flashing.
"Give that back," I demanded, stepping around the table.
Mia held it up to the cameras. "Look at this! The desperate little assistant faked a pregnancy to trap him! How low can you get?"
"Mia, stop!" Blake finally shouted, lunging forward.
She shoved him away. "Did you really think this would work? You think a superstar like Blake would marry a nobody who carries his bags?"
I looked at Blake. His face was pale. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Tell them, Blake," I said.
He swallowed hard. "Scarlett... don't."
"Tell them who I am to you."
He looked at the cameras, then at Mia, and finally at me. "She's... she's just my assistant. I don't know why she has that photo."
The room went dead silent for one second.
Then the reporters erupted into a frenzy of questions.
The love I had harbored for five years vanished.
He chose his image. He chose the lie.
He forgot one crucial detail.
I wasn't just the assistant who carried his bags. I was the CEO who owned the team, the arena, and the very contract he signed.
I picked up my empty purse.
"You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Blake Lawson," I whispered.
I pushed past the reporters and walked out into the night air. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed my chief operating officer.
"Cancel Blake Lawson's contract," I commanded. "And freeze all his sponsor assets."
"Right away, Ms. Scarlett. Is there anything else?"
I glanced back at the flashing lights inside the restaurant.
"Yes. Call the legal team. I want to ruin him."
I hung up the phone and stepped off the curb. Headlights blinded me as a black SUV slammed on its brakes inches from my knees. The rear window rolled down, revealing a face I hadn't seen in three years.
