Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pale sunlight filtered through Jane's apartment windows. Libby was alone on the couch, two coffee cups still in the sink from the early morning hours she and Liam had spent working together before he left for his flight back to Montreal.
She checked her phone. Late morning already. He'd be in Montreal by now, probably at the morning skate. The apartment felt cavernous and too quiet.
Her phone buzzed.
Mary
Found something. Call me
Libby hit the call button immediately, her heart racing.
"There's a gambling ring that's been operating since 2019," Mary said without preamble.
"Three other women in different locations—all the public faces of 'insider betting' schemes.
Same backend infrastructure, same LLC, same financial patterns.
But the women thought they were running legitimate businesses.
They had no idea they were fronts for something illegal. "
Libby grabbed her laptop, her journalist brain snapping into focus. "Is Wickham the only one involved?"
"Several players, but he's the common denominator across all four operations.
He's listed as a silent partner in the incorporation paperwork.
" Mary paused. "Libby, the women were supposed to keep him invisible—no photos, no tags, no public connection.
When investigations started, they took the fall and he moved on to the next cover. "
"And Lydia—"
"Lydia had no idea what she was walking into," Mary said.
"She thought she was being smart, leveraging her connection to a pro athlete to build her brand.
She posted photos with him, tagged him everywhere, name-dropped him constantly.
She did exactly what every other influencer does, but she was supposed to be running a front for illegal gambling.
She broke every rule without even knowing there were rules to break. "
Libby's throat closed. "So that's why he left with her."
"He probably thought he could control her, keep her quiet.
Clearly that didn't work." Mary's voice softened.
"Libby, this pattern clears you and Jane completely.
It proves Lydia was being used. The evidence is solid—same financial structures, same LLC, same methods across years. This is his operation, not hers."
"Send me everything."
By noon, Libby had built a timeline spanning three years and four women.
Wickham's pattern was disturbingly consistent: befriend trusting young women, convince them to be the public face of what seemed like legitimate "insider tips" businesses, then disappear when authorities started investigating—leaving the women to face charges while he stayed invisible.
A text from Georgia appeared on her screen.
Georgia
The lawyers finished reviewing Mary's evidence. Wickham got greedy with Lydia. Two birds with one stone—new front for the gambling scheme AND revenge on the D'Arcy family through you.
Libby stared at the text. She'd known Wickham was using Lydia to get at Liam, but seeing it confirmed in writing by the lawyers made it feel more calculated. More deliberate.
Libby
At least now we can prove it.
Georgia
Exactly. He overplayed his hand.
Her phone rang. Stewart Phillips from ESPN.
"Libby, I've been following the developments," Phillips said. "I'd like to give you airtime today. We can give you six minutes on SportsCenter at 5:30 to respond to this situation. Live."
"Today?" Her voice came out shaky.
"I know it's fast. But this story is going to dominate the sports news cycle whether you respond or not.
I like you, I hope we end up hiring you, and I want to give you the chance to tell your side.
" He paused. "If you have evidence to present, even better.
But either way, you deserve the platform to respond. "
Libby looked at her laptop screen, at Mary's meticulously organized evidence showing the pattern across multiple cities and victims.
"I'll do it."
After Phillips hung up, Libby stared at her phone. She needed to tell Liam. He was in Montreal preparing for Game 4 tonight, the biggest game of the season so far. But he'd asked her to keep him updated.
Libby
Busy?
The response came within seconds.
Liam
Free for you.
Busy for everyone else.
She smiled despite everything and called.
"Libby." His voice was immediate, focused. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Something's right, actually." She walked him through Mary's discovery, the evidence, the pattern. "Stewart Phillips just offered me six minutes on SportsCenter today. Live. To expose all of it."
Silence on the other end. Then: "When?"
"5:30. Right before your game."
"Do it." No hesitation. "This is your story. Tell it."
"Liam, I want to ask Georgia if I can use her name to take him down. Reference what he did to her—not in detail, but the pattern."
"She'll say yes," he said. "Georgia would want other women to know they're not alone." He paused. "Libby, the goal here is to make Wickham panic. If he sees you've exposed his entire operation, if he realizes he's trapped—"
"He might let Lydia contact us," Libby finished. "Or make a mistake."
"Exactly. Expose him. Make him panic. Make him desperate. Desperate people make mistakes."
After they hung up, Libby spent three hours preparing. She drafted talking points, organized her thoughts, practiced her delivery until her voice was steady and strong.
Her phone buzzed.
Georgia
Mark's team tracked Wickham's phone. He ditched Lydia somewhere around Providence hours ago. She's alone but safe from him. Do the interview. Make him panic.
Libby stared at the text. Lydia was alone somewhere, but Wickham wasn't with her. The interview wouldn't put her in danger.
Libby
Understood
That afternoon, she was in an Uber to ESPN's Boston studio, her notes on her phone, her hands shaking.
The ESPN studio was smaller than she expected, but the lights were blazing and the energy was intense. Stewart Phillips met her in the green room, reviewing the segment structure one final time.
"We'll start with the allegations against your family, give you space to respond, then you'll walk through the evidence. Six minutes uninterrupted. Ready?"
Libby nodded, not trusting her voice.
Minutes before air, she was seated across from Phillips, mic clipped to her blazer, the red camera light turning her nerves into focus.
"We're live in thirty seconds," the producer said.
Libby's phone buzzed one final time. Liam: Show them who you are.
The red light went solid.
"Good evening, I'm Stewart Phillips, and we begin tonight with a developing story that has rocked the NHL," Phillips said.
"Earlier this week, allegations surfaced suggesting that Boston Herald reporter Elizabeth Bennet-Cross and her sister Dr. Jane Bennet-Cross may have been involved in sharing insider information for gambling purposes.
Tonight, Elizabeth Bennet-Cross joins us exclusively to respond. Elizabeth, thank you for being here."
"Thank you for having me, Stewart."
"Let's address this directly. Your younger sister Lydia created an OnlyFans account claiming to offer insider NHL information from you and your sister Jane. What's your response?"
Libby looked directly into the camera. "My response is that my sister Lydia is a victim of fraud and manipulation, and I have evidence that she accidentally exposed a much larger criminal operation."
She watched Phillips's eyebrows rise fractionally.
"That's a serious allegation," Phillips said carefully.
"And it's backed by a serious pattern." Libby leaned forward.
"For the past three years, there has been a coordinated gambling ring operating in multiple cities.
The pattern is consistent: young women become the public faces of what appear to be 'insider betting tip' businesses.
They believe they're running legitimate operations.
They post on social media, they sell subscriptions, they take all the public risk.
But behind them is a silent partner who set up the infrastructure, who profits, and who disappears when investigations begin—leaving these women to face federal charges alone. "
"And you're saying your sister was part of this pattern?"
"My sister was supposed to be the next public face. The OnlyFans account was orchestrated by Gray Wickham, a former Portland Mariners player. Wickham has been connected to at least four of these operations spanning three years. Same structure, same methods, same pattern of manipulation."
"What Wickham didn't count on was that my sister craved attention more than she feared consequences.
She posted photos with him on Instagram.
She tagged him on TikTok. She name-dropped him in promotional material.
Everything she was supposed to keep secret, she made public—because she's twenty years old and didn't understand she was being used as a disposable front for a criminal organization. "
"So you're saying your sister's social media activity accidentally exposed this operation?"
"Exactly." Libby met the camera straight-on.
"Lydia made mistakes. But she inadvertently became a whistleblower.
The other women in this pattern unknowingly protected his anonymity because they didn't realize there was anything illegal happening.
They kept quiet when investigations started because they were scared.
My sister, because she had no idea what she was actually involved in, posted everything publicly and exposed him. "
Phillips leaned forward. "What's your message to the NHL, to the federal investigators, and to viewers watching at home?"
"My message is this: investigate Gray Wickham, not his victims. Follow the money, follow the pattern, and you'll find a serial fraudster who has been operating unchecked for years."
Phillips paused, then looked directly at her. "And what would you say to Gray Wickham, if he's watching?"