The heavy brass handle on my front door snapped downward.
I did not wait. I lunged for the balcony, ignoring the shards of broken glass slicing into my palms. The rusted metal of the fire escape groaned under my weight as I scrambled down into the damp alley. Above me, the sickening crash of my front door giving way echoed into the morning air.
They were inside. My home was gone.
I ran until my lungs burned. I had only one destination.
The Apex Club.
Ethan always spent his pre-game off-days hiding in the VIP lounge. I knew the service entrance code. I knew the bouncers' shift changes. I knew every detail of his life because I had managed it for five years.
I pushed through the heavy velvet curtains of Booth Four.
"Ethan."
He did not flinch. He did not look surprised. He sat sunken into the plush leather sofa, a glass of expensive bourbon resting in his hand.
His other hand gripped the bare thigh of a blonde woman sitting across his lap.
Olivia Montgomery.
Her father owned the largest sports broadcasting network on the East Coast. She was sports royalty, a billionaire heiress wrapped in designer silk.
"You look like a stray dog, Lynn," Ethan sneered, taking a sip of his drink.
"They breached my apartment," I said, my voice trembling with raw fury. "A mob chased me out of my own home."
"Security is slacking today," Olivia murmured. She traced a manicured fingernail down Ethan's chest, not bothering to look at me. "Who let the help in?"
"I need you to call off your fans," I demanded, stepping closer to the table. "Tell them the truth. Now."
Ethan laughed. A harsh, grating sound that bounced off the soundproof walls. "The truth? The truth is you are a liability."
"I spent five years building you!" I shouted. "I covered up your DUIs. I negotiated your contracts. I paid your rent during your rookie season when everyone else gave up on you!"
"You did your job," he shot back, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "And I outgrew you."
"By feeding me to a mob?"
"By upgrading." He gestured lazily toward Olivia. "Do you know what her father handed me this morning? A prime-time documentary spot. A shoe deal with a global brand. You could never secure that."
My stomach violently twisted. The realization hit me like a physical blow. "So you threw me under the bus."
"You were in the way. Olivia did not like the rumors about us."
"There were no rumors until your PR team planted them!"
Olivia smiled, a thin, cruel curve of her lips. "I told him to clean house. A rising star cannot have a nagging, desperate agent dragging him down. The obsessed stalker angle worked perfectly."
"You planned this," I whispered, staring at the man I thought I knew. "Both of you."
"It is just business," Ethan stated flatly.
"They are threatening to kill me, Ethan!"
"Change your number. Move to another city. Stop being my problem." He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. "In fact, I am making sure of it right now."
"What are you doing?"
"Releasing my personal statement." He turned the screen toward me.
I read the bold text plastered across his official social media page.
*I am deeply disturbed by the obsessive behavior of my former agent, Lynn Moore. I have filed a restraining order to protect myself and my loved ones from her relentless harassment.*
"You filed a restraining order?" My voice cracked.
"It makes the stalker narrative official," he replied, pocketing the device. "My fans will love it. The sponsors will pity me. And you will disappear."
"You absolute monster."
He stood up, towering over me. The easygoing charm he sold to the cameras vanished, replaced by a calculating, ruthless glare.
"I am a brand, Lynn. A multi-million dollar asset. You are a disposable employee who forgot her place."
"I made you."
"I made myself. You just held my coat." He snapped his fingers toward the shadows near the entrance.
Two massive security guards stepped out from the hallway.
"Get this woman out of my sight," Ethan ordered, turning his back to me. "If she comes within fifty feet of me again, call the police."
"Let go of me!" I yelled as heavy hands clamped onto my shoulders.
"Goodbye, Lynn," Olivia chimed in, resting her head against Ethan’s shoulder. "Good luck finding a job in this industry."
The guards dragged me backward. I thrashed against their grip, kicking at their shins, but they were too strong. They shoved me through the back exit, tossing me out into the cold morning air.
I hit the concrete hard, scraping my knees against the rough pavement of the parking garage.
The heavy steel door slammed shut. The lock clicked, sealing me out.
I sat on the freezing ground, staring at the blank metal.
My career. My reputation. My safety.
All destroyed in a single morning by a man I had protected with my life. He did not feel an ounce of guilt. He looked at my ruined life and saw nothing but a stepping stone for his ambition.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out with shaking fingers. A new email notification flashed on the cracked screen.
*Sender: Legal Department, Montgomery Broadcasting Network.*
*Subject: Notice of Defamation Lawsuit.*
They were not just ruining my reputation. They were coming after everything I owned.
Before I could even open the message, tires screeched against the concrete.
A sleek black town car rolled to a stop mere inches from my feet.
The tinted back window glided down silently.
A man in a sharp charcoal suit stared at me from the shadows of the backseat. His eyes were ice-cold, assessing my battered state with zero pity.
"Get in, Ms. Moore," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Unless you want to go to jail tonight."
