"You’re trending again, Emma."
Marcus slid his iPad across the polished mahogany table.
A grainy video looped on the screen. Sienna and Cole walking into the hotel lobby last night, her arms wrapped around his neck. Then, the slide switched to a still photograph.
Me, standing outside Cole’s penthouse door at 2:00 AM.
"I was bringing him his fever medication," I said, shoving the tablet back toward the agent. "You know he had a 101-degree temperature last night. I went to the 24-hour pharmacy for him."
"The internet doesn't care about his temperature," Marcus stated, his voice flat. "They care that Cole and Sienna spent the night together, and you were caught lurking in the hallway."
"I wasn't lurking. I was doing my job."
"Not anymore." Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Fans figured out who you are. The narrative is shifting. They're calling you a homewrecker. A crazy, obsessed assistant trying to ruin hockey's new golden couple."
"Then fix it," I demanded. "Tell them the truth. Tell them I was his girlfriend."
"The truth doesn't sell jerseys, Emma." Marcus crossed his arms. "The obsessed assistant angle? It works perfectly. It makes Sienna look like the victim and Cole look like a saint for putting up with your harassment."
I scoffed, shaking my head in pure disbelief. "Cole will never agree to this."
"He already did."
"You're lying."
"Watch the press conference in ten minutes," Marcus instructed, pointing toward the heavy oak door. "Then pack your desk."
I didn't wait for him to dismiss me. I stormed out of the conference room and marched straight toward the media center.
I stood in the shadows of the backstage wings. The harsh glare of the camera lights illuminated Cole at the podium. He wore a sharp navy suit. He looked calm. Untouchable.
"Cole!" a reporter shouted over the chaotic din of the press corps. "Did your assistant pursue you romantically? Is she the reason for the tension outside your hotel room last night?"
The room fell dead silent.
Cole gripped the edges of the podium. He turned his head slightly. His eyes found mine in the dark.
I held my gaze steady. *Tell them,* I silently demanded. *Just tell them I worked for you. Defend me.*
Seconds ticked by. Cole swallowed hard. He broke eye contact and looked back at the flashing cameras.
"I don’t want to discuss a former employee’s private feelings," Cole said into the microphone.
My stomach plummeted.
*Former employee.*
*Private feelings.*
He didn't just throw me under the bus. He backed it up and ran me over.
My phone vibrated violently in my pocket. Notifications flooded my screen. Twitter mentions. Instagram tags. Threats from rabid fans pouring in by the second.
A heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. Dave, the team’s HR director, stepped into my line of sight.
"Hand over your badge, Emma," Dave ordered. "You're done here. Security will escort you out."
I unclipped the plastic ID from my lanyard and let it drop onto the concrete floor.
"I need to speak to him," I said, stepping around Dave.
"He doesn't want to speak to you."
"I don't care."
I bypassed the security detail and shoved open the double doors to the locker room.
Cole sat on the center bench, loosening his silk tie. He didn't look surprised to see me. He didn't even look guilty.
"You ruined my reputation," I yelled, my voice echoing off the metal lockers.
"Keep your voice down," Cole muttered, rubbing his temples. "It's just a media cycle. It will blow over in a week."
"A media cycle? They're calling me a stalker! I spent five years hiding in your shadow, and this is how you repay me?"
"I'm protecting my career," he shot back. "Sienna brings in a new demographic. The league wants us together. I couldn't let you ruin that."
"I brought you fever medicine," I reminded him, my voice shaking with rage. "I took care of you while you were planning how to destroy me."
Cole reached into his suit jacket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out to me.
"What is this?" I asked, refusing to reach for it.
"It's a check. Six figures. More than enough to keep you comfortable until the heat dies down. I told you I'd take care of you."
I stared at the slip of paper. Five years of love, loyalty, and silence. Reduced to a hush-money payout.
"You think you can buy my silence?" I asked.
"I think you need the money," Cole countered. "Take it, Emma. Go on a vacation. Forget about hockey for a while."
I snatched the check from his fingers.
I ripped it in half. Then into quarters.
I threw the shredded pieces right into his face. The paper fluttered down onto his expensive leather shoes.
"I don't want your money, Cole."
His jaw tightened. The easygoing, charming athlete vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stranger.
"You're making a mistake, Emma."
"My only mistake was believing you ever cared about me."
Cole stood up, closing the distance between us. He towered over me, his expression hardening into pure disdain.
"Don't act like you're above this," he sneered. "You rode my coattails for half a decade. Without me, nobody in this league even knows your name."
His cruelty punched the air right out of my lungs.
"They'll know it soon," I promised.
I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving him standing in the empty locker room.
The moment I pushed through the arena's glass exit doors, absolute chaos erupted.
Dozens of reporters swarmed the sidewalk. Camera flashes blinded me. Microphones jammed into my personal space, hitting my chin.
"Emma! Are you in love with Cole?"
"Did you try to break into his room?"
"Are you getting a restraining order?"
I shoved past a cameraman, keeping my head down. "No comment. Leave me alone."
"Homewrecker!" a girl screamed from the crowd of fans behind the metal barricade.
A heavy paper cup sailed through the air. It slammed directly into my shoulder. Sticky, freezing iced coffee exploded across my white blouse and dripped down my neck.
I gasped, stumbling forward onto the pavement.
A sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb. The tinted back window rolled down halfway.
Cole sat in the luxurious leather seat. Sienna was curled against his chest, laughing at something on her phone.
He turned his head. His eyes locked onto mine.
He saw the coffee soaking my shirt. He saw the mob surrounding me, screaming insults.
He didn't say a word. He didn't tell the driver to stop.
He just pressed a button on the door panel.
The window rolled up, cutting me off completely. The SUV sped away, leaving me entirely alone in the flashing lights.
My phone vibrated in my wet pocket.
I pulled it out. A text message glowed on the screen from the same unknown number that called me last night.
*I saw the press conference. Are you ready to destroy him now?*
