Chapter Twelve Mason Reed #3
“No,” Billie said. “But you control whether your company’s sponsorship gives him proximity.”
Silence.
Mason wanted to applaud.
He did not, because he valued his life.
Graham’s voice sharpened. “And if I say Ryan will not be attending Friday, what happens to these allegations?”
Billie glanced at Mark.
Mark nodded once.
Billie said, “We continue documenting internally. We do not make public claims without proof. If he stops, we stop feeding it. If he continues, we protect the rink.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It is a boundary.”
Mason looked at her.
God.
She was magnificent.
Graham let out a quiet breath. “You always were direct.”
“And you always called it direct when you liked the outcome and difficult when you didn’t.”
Evie’s eyes went wide.
Harper pressed both hands over her mouth.
Mark looked like he might pass away.
Mason stared at Billie with a feeling in his chest that was becoming less manageable by the minute.
Graham, unexpectedly, laughed.
Short. Surprised. Real.
“Fair,” he said.
Billie did not smile. “Ryan is not welcome Friday.”
“I will make that clear.”
“And?”
“And Vale Community Partners remains committed to the match.”
The room exhaled.
Billie’s shoulders lowered by a fraction.
“Thank you,” she said.
“One more thing,” Graham said.
Of course.
Billie’s jaw tightened. “Yes?”
“If Ryan is responsible for the photo, I want to know before it goes public.”
Billie’s voice was steady. “If Ryan is responsible, we will handle it through the appropriate channels.”
“Billie.”
“No special lane because he is your family.”
A long silence.
Then Graham said, “Understood.”
The call ended.
Nobody spoke for three full seconds.
Then Nate’s voice from outside the door whispered loudly, “Did she just professionally body-check a sponsor?”
Theo whispered, “Yes.”
Alby said, “Finally, hockey.”
Billie turned toward the door. “Nate.”
Nate appeared slowly, hands up. “In my defence, the hallway has ears.”
“You are not the hallway.”
“I support infrastructure.”
Billie looked too tired to punish him properly.
That worried Mason more than yelling would have.
Mark took back his phone. “Billie, that was well handled.”
She looked at him. “Do not sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
She gave him a look.
He nodded. “I earned that.”
Harper shut her laptop halfway. “Publicly, the Max post is still holding. Donations are at fourteen thousand.”
Evie let out a shaky breath. “Fourteen.”
Max grinned. “My quote worked.”
Billie looked at him. “Your quote was excellent.”
Max’s face lit up.
“Still no haze machine,” she added.
His face fell. “Leadership is unfair.”
“It often is.”
The room slowly loosened.
People moved again. Harper collected screenshots. Mark went to secure access records. Evie took Max to call his mother. Alby dragged Nate and Theo toward the ice because apparently the concept of practice had survived another crisis.
Mason stayed because Billie stayed.
She stood at the table, looking at the evidence bag.
Not touching it.
Just looking.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She gave him a tired glance. “I have retired that question.”
“Operational?”
“Barely.”
That was honest enough to hurt.
Mason stepped closer, then stopped at the edge of the table. “You were incredible.”
Her mouth twisted. “Do not praise me while I’m annoyed.”
“Does it weaken the anger?”
“It complicates it.”
“Noted.”
She rubbed at her forehead. “Graham listened.”
“He did.”
“He might still pull support if this gets uglier.”
“He might.”
“Ryan knows how this place works.”
“Yeah.”
“And the photo means he was here. Or someone gave him access.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him then, eyes tired and too bright. “I hate that the rink feels unsafe because of my past decisions.”
Mason shook his head once. “No.”
“Mason.”
“No. Firing him was not the wrong decision. Leaving him in place would’ve made the rink unsafe.”
Her eyes held his.
He could feel the words land.
Not fix.
Not heal.
Land.
Billie swallowed. “You’re very inconvenient when you’re right.”
“I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear that.”
“Do not ruin it.”
“I’ll treasure it silently.”
“Impossible.”
He smiled faintly.
For a moment, the room felt almost quiet.
Almost safe.
Then Harper reappeared in the doorway, face pale.
Mason’s stomach dropped.
Billie straightened. “What?”
Harper held up her phone.
“Ryan just posted.”
Billie’s face closed. “Where?”
“Personal account. Public.”
Harper read it aloud, voice tight.
Funny how some people become queens by rewriting what really happened. But old rinks have long memories. See you Friday.
The air went cold.
Mason’s blood roared.
Billie’s expression went perfectly blank.
“That,” she said, “was a mistake.”
Mason looked at her.
So did Harper.
Billie reached for the marker and wrote one new line on the whiteboard.
RYAN VALE: Not attending Friday.
Then she turned to Mason.
Her eyes were sharp.
Cold.
Ready.
“Now,” she said, “we make sure everyone knows he is not invited without making him the story.”
Mason nodded.
But deep in his gut, he knew Ryan Vale was not going to stay uninvited quietly.
And Friday was starting to look less like a fundraiser.
More like a collision.