Chapter 29
Love isn’t supposed to feel this way. Like I’m being held and shut out at the same time.
Yet here I am, watching Kai drift further away, and the ache in my chest tells me the truth I’ve been avoiding.
I love him.
It’s ridiculous, maybe. Too fast, probably too messy. But when he’s near, every part of me sharpens. When he’s distant, I feel hollow.
Love is the only word big enough to explain the way his silence cuts me, the way his rare openness stitches me back together.
And because I love him, I can’t just sit here anymore, pretending not to notice the shadows dragging him down.
He won’t tell me what’s going on. I’ve asked, pushed gently, pushed harder.
Every time he puts up the same walls, the same evasions. Protecting me, he calls it, though he never says the words outright.
But the love I know isn’t locking someone out. It isn’t handing them pieces of yourself and expecting them to guess the rest.
I flip open my laptop and stare at the folder I’ve built over weeks. Screenshots, bank records, pieces of information tied to Derek Delaunay’s name.
Evidence strong enough to burn him, maybe even scare him into crawling back under the rock he came from.
Kai doesn’t need to carry this. He doesn’t need to know his own brother is the one dragging him through hell. I can take the weight instead. I’ll make Derek back off, whatever it takes.
My hand hovers over my phone. My pulse is erratic, a drumbeat of nerves, but resolve pushes me forward. I scroll through my messages until I find the number I swore I’d only use if things got bad enough.
Derek’s contact, buried under fake initials. I send him a text immediately.
It’s about time we talk. Somewhere public, tomorrow at noon.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself. The whoosh of the message leaving feels like stepping off a cliff.
The reply comes fast, too fast, like he’s been waiting for me.
Finally, Name the place.
My throat goes dry. I type out the café two blocks from the public library, the one always packed at lunch with students and professionals, a place buzzing with enough bodies to keep things from getting too dangerous. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
When Derek confirms the meetup, satisfaction seeps through his words even in text.
I close my laptop and set my phone face down. My heart won’t stop beating too fast, and a shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the cool air from the A.C
This is reckless and dangerous. I know it, but love wouldn’t let me sit by while Kai gets destroyed. If he won’t fight for himself, I’ll fight for him.
The smell of burnt espresso clings to the air, bitter enough to match the knot in my stomach.
I sit across from Derek in the very bright coffee shop, my hands trembling under the table even though my voice sounds steady when I slide the folder across to him.
“That’s everything I have on you. Gambling debts. Creditors breathing down your neck. Half the city knows you’re drowning financially.”
Derek leans back, the cheap wooden chair creaking under his weight. His lips curl into something between a smirk and a laugh.
He doesn’t even glance at the papers I’ve spent nights digging up.
“You really think this is going to scare me, sweetheart?” he drawls, voice carrying loud enough that the couple at the next table looks up. “Cute. This is really cute.”
Anger surges through me, but I bite down on it. “It’s over, Derek. I know how you’ve been circling Kai. I know what you’re after and I’m not letting you drag him down with you.”
For a beat, he just stares at me, his eyes flat, and seeming unbothered. Then he chuckles. It’s a low, amused sound that makes my skin crawl. He pushes the folder back toward me with one lazy finger.
“You think you’re protecting him? God, that’s adorable.” He leans forward now, his grin sharp as glass. “Kai’s already been paying me.”
The words punch the air out of my chest as I replay it in my head. “You’re lying.”
“Oh, am I?” He slips a sleek black envelope from his jacket pocket and spreads the contents across the table.
Photos, grainy but undeniable. I see images of Kai meeting him in a parking lot.
Bank transfer screenshots. Derek’s voice drops, smug and intimate.
“Your golden boy has been keeping me afloat while you’ve been playing detective. Didn’t see that one coming, did you?”
The blood drains from my face. Each photo is like a blade. I want to argue, deny the claim and tear them in half, but my fingers stay frozen against the cool tabletop.
“You’ve been so busy trying to corner me,” Derek continues, savoring every word, “that you didn’t realize I’ve been running circles around both of you. Kai’s desperate to keep his little secrets safe, and you? You’re just collateral.”
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, refusing to let him see how much it shakes me. But the ground under me is gone. If what he’s saying is true then it means Kai has been lying to me, hiding things, maybe even playing me.
Derek reclines again, smug satisfaction oozing from his every movement. “Now, why don’t we talk about what you’re really going to do for me?”
We stare quietly at each other, with his evidence scattered on the table, my proof useless, and his revelations cutting far deeper than anything.
My throat feels scraped raw, but I force myself to keep my chin lifted as Derek slides another folder across the table.
I don’t want to touch or even see what else he’s been holding back, but my hands betray me.
The glossy photos spill into my lap, me and Kai caught in moments that feel achingly private even though they were in public. A hand brushing my arm outside the practice facility.
Another image shows his laugh in that quiet corner café and my smile tilted toward him like the whole world disappeared.
Derek’s smirk sharpens. “Cute, right? Lovers caught in the wild. Harmless to you maybe. But to the press? To your editor?” He whistles low. “Scandal on tap.”
My stomach drops. This is no longer about debts and desperation––it’s a game he’s been playing from the start.
“You’ve been following us.” My voice comes out a rasp, barely audible.
“Following? Try orchestrating.” Derek leans back, casual as if we’re discussing the weather.
“You think all this happened by accident? Your little interviews. Your cozy exclusives. The public sightings. Every step you’ve taken closer to Kai, I’ve been right there, steering the story for my own benefits. ” His eyes sparkle, cruel and certain.
“You’re not his savior, Rochelle. You’re my pawn in this game.”
My stomach clenches. “Why? What do you even get out of this?”
His laugh is sharp enough to cut through me. “Everything––leverage, control and chaos. And the satisfaction of watching a golden boy burn. But don’t worry, I won’t let you walk away empty-handed. I’ll make you famous too.”
Heat floods my face, and rage collides with fear. “You won’t get away with this.”
“I already have.” He flicks another paper toward me, transaction records linking Kai’s payouts to his charity account. My chest seizes as the implication hits. Derek hasn’t just bled Kai for money, he’s touched the one thing Kai cares about most.
“If I hit send,” Derek says softly, almost tenderly, “the world will know. They’ll crucify him. You? You’ll be the journalist who compromised herself for the story. Both of you will be finished.”
Silence presses heavy, broken only by the hum of the coffee machine behind the counter.
My hands shake so badly I shove them under the table. He’s boxed me in from every angle, every path poisoned before I even took a step.
For the first time since this started, I feel the horrible certainty that I’m already too late.
Derek leans in, his grin sharp enough to cut glass. “You really thought you could outplay me? Sweetheart, the game ended the second you walked in here.”
Before I can react, his thumb moves, it’s fast and deliberate. A faint ping from his phone. The smile on his face makes my heart pang, and I understand why in a few minutes.
My phone starts to vibrate, second after second, buzzing nonstop.
I pull my phone from the table, the screen already glowing with notifications, mentions. Emails and alerts.
The first headline stares back at me like a death sentence.
Reporter Rochelle Winters Exposed in Secret Affair with NFL Star Kai Morrison.
Another drops instantly after.
Charity Funds in Question: Morrison Caught in Scandal with Sports Reporter.
The air drains from my lungs. I swipe down, but the flood only worsens. Photos of me and Kai at every glance, every touch, captured from public sidewalks, restaurants, stadium entrances.
Things so small and private to us, now twisted into ammunition.
My hands tremble as I scroll and read. The words start to blur.
Compromised journalist. Biased coverage. Could this be the end of her career?
Derek sits back in his chair, sipping his coffee like he’s watching a show he’s seen a hundred times. “Beautiful, isn’t it? All that power, gone in seconds.”
“No,” I whisper, but it comes out broken.
My phone won’t stop pinging and buzzing. The headlines continue to pile up, each one worse than the last. And then the comments, people ripping me apart.
She slept her way into getting a job with the team.
Can’t trust a word she’s written. Morrison caught with a reporter seems like a classic setup.
Helplessness hits me like a physical blow. I try to call Kai, but the line goes straight to voicemail. My chest caves in at the thought of him seeing all this before I can explain it to him.
I refresh, desperate to see how bad it’s gotten, only to find a video already circulating.
Reporters crowd him outside practice, cameras flashing, and voices shouting over each other.
“Is it true you’re in a relationship with Rochelle Winters?”
“Did she compromise her coverage of you?”
The camera catches his face as he freezes mid-step. The look on his face is a mix of shock and disbelief. And then something sharper, like betrayal, before he turns away and pushes through the swarm.
The screen shakes in my hand. I can barely breathe.
Across the table, Derek smirks, perfectly satisfied. “Looks like you’re both trending, huh?”
I can’t answer. My world is crumbling in real time, and I can’t do nothing but watch.
I can’t stop pacing. My phone is still blowing up every thirty seconds, the glow of new notifications bleeding across the dark of my apartment.
I’ve tried calling Kai almost a hundred times now. I’m met with voicemail every single time. Each unanswered call lands in my chest like a weight. Where is he? What is he thinking? Is he mad at me?
I press my phone to my ear again, listening to the empty ring before it dumps me back into silence. My breath feels uneven, shallow, like I can’t get enough air.
If I’m this devastated about the leak, then what about him? He’s the one in the spotlight, the one with cameras ready to catch every flinch.
The thought makes me dig my nails into my palms. I can’t sit still. I walk from the window to my desk, then back to the window, staring down at the quiet street below as if it can offer answers. But nothing’s quiet anymore. Not online. Not in the world we live in.
I scroll without meaning to, and the headlines scream at me.
Journalist Compromised in Athlete Scandal.
Conflict of Interest Exposed: Winters and Morrison Affair.
My name is already a punchline in threads and comment sections. Some call me ambitious, some call me dirty, and some call me worse.
Each word slices deep until I can hardly recognize myself in the reflection of this mess.
The vibration of an incoming call jolts me. Relief spikes. It’s finally Kai. But no. Marcus Webb. The man who employed me for this job.
I answer with trembling fingers. “Marcus…”
“Don’t,” he cuts in. His tone is clipped, furious, the kind of voice that doesn’t leave room for explanations. “You’re fired, Rochelle. Pack your things. You won’t step foot anywhere near the hockey team again.”
The words are blunt, final, and leave no space for argument.
“Please, just listen, I can explain––” I try, but my throat is tight, the plea choking out half-formed.
“Do you even realize the position you’ve put me in? You’ve made a mockery of the trust and faith I had in you. I asked you to dig dirt on Morrison, not warm his sheets. We’re finished, Winters. Completely finished.”
The line goes dead before I can breathe another word.
I lower the phone, staring at the blank screen until it blurs. Fired. Just like that. My career, my future, shredded in less than a minute.
I sink onto the couch, elbows on my knees, clutching my phone like it’s the only thing keeping me together. I want to scream, to throw it, to smash it into silence, but I can’t let go. Because what if Kai calls? What if he needs me?
Instead, all I hear is my own heartbeat thudding in my ears and the echo of Marcus’s voice.
It hits me all at once that in one morning, everything that’s important to me––my job, my reputation, and the man that I fell in love has been ripped out of my hands. Derek didn’t just win. He destroyed us both.
And now, I don’t know how we’ll ever come back from it.