Chapter Twenty-Six
Liam
He’s an assignment.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, reverberating in my head as I walk through the lodge in a haze.
Is that all I am to Maggie? A stepping stone for a story?
I can’t stop thinking about the text messages I read, the ones I wasn’t even supposed to see.
And it’s not just that she’s writing a story.
It’s what kind of story it seems to be. Something about it feels ugly, calculated.
Something I never wanted tied to my name.
“Liam!” a sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn to see Izzy storming toward me, her white-blond ponytail swishing like a whip.
“It’s good to see you, Cousin,” I mutter, trying to muster my usual charm, but she’s not having it.
She grabs my arm with surprising force and drags me toward a small room off the main hallway. “What the hell have you been doing? Have you even looked at your phone?”
I frown, pulling my arm free. “Not yet. I’ve been... occupied.”
Izzy folds her arms and gives me a glare that could melt the snow outside. “I don’t care whose bed you rolled out of this morning. You need to check your phone. Right now.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, a flicker of unease crawling up my spine. I pull out my phone, unlocking the screen, and a series of notifications greet me like flashing warning signs. I click the first one, a text message from my publicist with a link attached.
As the article loads, my stomach twists into a tight knot. The headline is bold, capitalized, and impossible to miss.
Shredding the Rules: Liam Thompson Caught in Doping Controversy.
The room feels like it’s closing in around me. My heart hammers in my chest as I skim the article. It’s vague, loaded with insinuations and unnamed sources. But it’s enough. Enough to plant doubt. Enough to damage my reputation. Enough to ruin everything I’ve worked for.
I look up at Izzy, my throat dry. “What the hell is this?”
Her expression softens, but only slightly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. This story just broke. It’s all over the internet.”
I scroll down, my eyes scanning the accusations, the subtle jabs at my character, the questions about my recent performance. And then, like a blow to the chest, I see it: a reference to an anonymous source who’s been getting ‘close’ to me.
Maggie.
My grip tightens on the phone, my knuckles turning white. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Izzy watches me carefully, her voice quieter now. “Liam, I need to know... is any of it true?”
I shake my head, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. “No. Of course not.”
But even as I say the words, my mind spins in a thousand directions. Did Maggie write this? Is this what she’s been working on the whole time? Was last night just part of her plan?
Izzy steps closer, her tone sharp again. “Then we need to shut this down. You’ve got sponsors, fans, and a family to think about. Call Gail. Call your publicist. Figure this out. Now.”
I nod, my body moving on autopilot as I dial the number. But deep down, one thought keeps replaying in my head: Was Maggie part of this? And if she was... why the hell does it hurt so much to think she might have used me?
Iz studies my face as I hang up with Gail, her brows knit with worry. “What are you thinking?” she asks quietly, her tone unusually soft for someone as bold as her.
“We need to find the source that leaked this information,” I steadily say despite the storm raging inside me.
Her lips press into a thin line. “Do you think it’ll cost you the competition?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool, but the weight of the situation presses heavily on my chest. “I can easily refute it. Take a drug test, prove it’s all bullshit.”
“But that doesn’t erase the damage to your reputation,” she presses, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “This kind of thing sticks, Liam. People love a scandal.”
I nod slowly, the truth of her words cutting deeper than I’d like to admit. “Who knows what the fallout will be,” I say, my tone clipped, betraying the frustration I’m trying to suppress. “Even if I clear my name, the doubt will always be there for some people.”
Iz exhales heavily, crossing her arms. “You’ve worked too hard for this to get taken away by some rumor. Do you think—” she hesitates for a fraction of a second, “—do you think Lyla had anything to do with it?”
The question hits me like a sucker punch.
My jaw tightens, and I feel the air thicken around us.
“I don’t know,” I admit, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth.
Lyla’s the most logical answer for a source.
But those damning text messages I saw on Maggie’s phone point to her, too.
“I’d like to think no. But do you ever really know someone?
” My throat constricts, and I shake my head.
Iz places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. But Liam,” she pauses, her gaze locking with mine, “it could have been anyone, right?”
I don’t answer her right away. Because deep down, I know that if it was Maggie who betrayed me, it’s not just my career on the line—it’s my heart.
The moment we step into the lobby, it’s like the air shifts.
Conversations halt mid-sentence, and a thick, almost tangible silence blankets the room.
One by one, heads turn in my direction. Eyes narrow, judgment already etched into their gazes.
Then come the whispers—low, venomous murmurs that spread like wildfire, curling around me as if to strangle the truth I haven’t even been given a chance to defend.
They think I’m guilty.
My jaw tightens, but I keep my head high, forcing my steps to remain steady. I refuse to let them see the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Izzy matches my stride, her presence a steadying force as we move through the suffocating tension.
The cold hits me like a slap when we step outside, snow crunching under our boots. I glance around the parking lot, and there they are—my entire family, huddled together in a tight circle. Their voices carry, overlapping in a cacophony of concern and speculation.
They’re talking all at once, not noticing me at first. But as I approach, their chatter dies down.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Let the interrogation begin.”
Izzy shoots me a side glance. “Just tell them the truth, Liam. They’ll have your back.”
I want to believe her, but as their worried faces turn toward me, I’m not so sure. The weight of their expectations—and their disappointment—feels heavier than the snow piling up around us.
Mom steps forward, her face a blend of steely determination and maternal worry. “We need to figure this out,” she says, her tone brimming with urgency.
“I know,” I reply, though the words feel hollow in the face of the mounting pressure. My throat is tight, and it’s all I can do to keep the swirling storm of doubt and anger from showing.
She moves closer, placing her hands firmly on my shoulders. Her grip is comforting, but I can see the fear lurking behind her strong exterior. “No, Liam,” she continues, sharply. “We need a plan. This isn’t going to blow over on its own. We need Gail. Now.”
“I just got off the phone with her,” I say, trying to sound confident. But the truth is, I don’t even know where to start. Gail has handled messy situations before, but this feels different. This feels personal.
Mom’s hands tighten, her thumbs brushing against the tension in my shoulders as she pulls me into a hug. I feel her trembling slightly, and the realization that she’s as scared as I am sends a pang of guilt through me. “We’re going to figure this out,” she whispers fiercely. “We always do.”
As she steps back, Mia strides forward, her no-nonsense attitude cutting through the tension like a blade.
“Alright, troops!” she declares, hands on her hips, her sharp gaze sweeping over everyone.
“Let’s get a plan together. What do we need to do to clear Liam’s name before tonight?
” She looks down at her watch, her lips pursing.
“We’ve got ten hours before they hand out awards.
That’s enough time to shut this nonsense down—if we’re smart about it. ”
Her confidence sparks a ripple of murmured agreement among the group. Taylor exchanges a determined look with Dad, and even Izzy, usually quick with a joke, wears a serious expression as she steps closer.
I glance around at the faces of my family, each of them radiating a different kind of determination.
Taylor looks like he’s ready to punch someone in my defense—classic older brother energy.
Mia’s already whipping out her phone, probably emailing half the internet to track down the source of the article.
Izzy leans into Dad, whispering something in his ear, her sharp mind undoubtedly hatching a plan of her own.
And then there’s Mom, standing steady in front of me, her hands clasped as if she’s holding the entire family together through sheer willpower.
It should comfort me, knowing they’ve got my back. It does, in a way. But there’s a gnawing fear beneath it all. They believe in me—trust me—and the weight of that trust feels like it might crush me. What if I can’t clear my name? What if, for once, their faith in me is misplaced?
“I know you’re all ready to fight for me,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “But there’s something I need you to know first.”
Everyone turns to look at me, their expectant gazes making my skin prickle.
“There’s someone,” I start. “Someone I’ve been… spending time with.”
Izzy raises an intrigued eyebrow. “Is this the infamous someone the family group chat’s been buzzing about?”
“Shut up, Iz,” Taylor mutters, though he leans in slightly, clearly interested.
I ignore their banter and continue. “She’s smart, gorgeous, and… complicated.” I exhale sharply, running a hand over the back of my neck. “She’s also a journalist.”
The word lands like a pebble in a still pond, ripples of reaction spreading through the group. Izzy’s jaw drops, Mia’s eyes widen, and Mom’s lips part slightly in surprise.
“A journalist?” Dad echoes, his tone cautious.
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s here covering the competition.”
Izzy narrows her eyes, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “And you didn’t think that was worth mentioning sooner?”
“It didn’t seem important,” I snap, though even I know how weak that sounds. “I didn’t think—”
“That’s the problem,” Izzy interrupts. “You didn’t think. Do you know how many people would kill for dirt on you right now?”
“Enough,” Mom says sharply, silencing the bickering. She turns back to me, her expression unreadable. “Liam, do you trust her?”
The question stings more than it should. I drag in a deep breath, the stress of the past twenty-four hours pressing down on me. “I… I don’t know,” I admit. “But I need to find out.”
Mia steps forward, her face thoughtful. “Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions. If she’s a journalist, maybe she’s just doing her job. It doesn’t automatically mean she’s the one who leaked anything.”
“But it doesn’t mean she didn’t leak it, either,” Izzy counters, her voice edged with frustration. “And if she did, Liam, you need to know before this spirals any further.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I say. “I’ll get answers.”
The silence that follows is heavy, but there’s no mistaking the tension in the air. My family doesn’t need to say it for me to feel it: They’re not just worried about my career—they’re worried about me.
And honestly? So am I.