Chapter 20 DECLAN
DECLAN
This Means War
Gregory is holding my phones.
I know it before Rowan even finishes explaining the Find My iPhone tracker results. Before my younger brother pulls up the map showing my devices’ location pinging from Gregory Stallworth's downtown office.
He’s been holding onto my phones for two days.
My hands curl into fists, rage flooding my system so much I can barely see straight.
"That son of a bitch," I grit out.
Rowan's face is grim on my laptop screen. We're video calling since I still have no phone.
"Dec, if he's had access to your messages..."
"He's seen every text to Ivy." My voice comes out flat, dead.
"Then you need to assume he's already used it against you."
He's right. Gregory has had enough time to comb through my phone, screenshot conversations, and build whatever case he's building against me. Against Ivy.
The thought makes my stomach turn.
"I'm going to kill him," I say quietly.
"Don't." Rowan's voice is sharp. "He wants you to lose control and do something stupid that will give him more leverage. You need to be smart about this. I heard there’s an ethics complaint against Ivy. With all the photos involved, you need to be careful and think before…"
"Smart went out the window when he stole my phones and..." I stop, a sickening realization dawning. "Did you just say there’s an ethics complaint against Ivy and that there are photos involved?”
He nods, his eyebrows pulling together into a frown.
“That was him."
"Probably."
"Definitely." I grab my keys. "I have to warn her."
"Dec." Riley appears behind Rowan on the screen, her usually bright expression serious. "You can't go to her right now. If Gregory's watching, and he definitely is, you'll just make it worse."
"I don't care."
"She does. Her career is on the line. If both of you are seen together, that's proof the ethics complaint is legitimate."
Pain slices through me. My hand runs over my forehead helplessly. Everything I do to help Ivy right now will only hurt her more.
But I can't just sit here while Gregory destroys her. I disconnect the call and head for my car, my mind racing through options that all lead to the same conclusion. I need to end this with Gregory. Now. Before he does any more damage.
The drive to the Raptors' facility takes a few minutes that feel like hours. Today is a rest day. None of the players are meant to be in the facility. But Marcus is waiting in the parking lot, arms crossed, expression thunderous. He starts walking toward me before I'm even out of my car.
"You son of a bitch," he snarls, getting in my face. "Did you know about the investigation?"
"What investigation?"
"Don't play stupid. Did you know about the complaint accusing Ivy of falsifying research data to protect her 'romantic partners'?" His hands fist in my shirt. "Plural, Declan. They're implying she's sleeping with multiple players."
Ice floods my veins. "That's not... She would never..."
"I know that! But it doesn't matter what's true.
It matters what they can prove. And someone sent them time-stamped photos of her entering your building at night and leaving at dawn.
" His voice cracks slightly. "They're destroying her, Dec.
Everything she's worked for is gone, because she got involved with you. "
My shoulders slump at the realization of what this could cost Ivy.
"I didn't know," I say, my voice rough. "But I'm going to fix it."
"How? By staying away from her? She says you've been ignoring her texts and calls."
I don’t tell him that my phone isn’t with me because even if it was, I wouldn’t have answered Ivy’s call.
I promised to be there for her, but I can’t go because every interaction between us is fuel for Gregory's fire. Staying away is the only way to protect her even though she’s calling the phone the sleazy agent stole.
But I can't explain that to Marcus without revealing everything.
"I'll fix it," I repeat.
"You'd better. Because if you don't..." He releases my shirt, stepping back. "I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life."
He storms off.
I pull out my laptop from the car and start researching contract lawyers, someone who can untangle me from Gregory's grip. Someone who specializes in fraud, because that's what this is.
Theft. Manipulation. Nine years of control masked as management.
I'm so focused on my search that I don't hear the footsteps approaching until it's too late. The smell of sharp cologne announces Gregory before his voice does, that blend of sandalwood that makes my skin crawl.
My phones are in his hand like that's the most casual thing in the world.
"Lost these?" He extends them toward me, that cold smile firmly in place.
I snatch them from him, resisting the urge to throw a punch.
"You stole my phones."
"I borrowed them." He straightens his cuffs, looking unconcerned. "You left them in the locker room after the Boston game. I was simply keeping them safe."
"For days."
"I've been busy."
"Busy reading my private messages and leaking photos to destroy Ivy's career?" My voice rises despite my attempts at control.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, eyes gleaming triumphantly.
"You lying..."
"Though I noticed some concerning communications on your device. Multiple messages to Dr. Chandler, both as yourself and as... what was it? King?" He tilts his head. "Clever deception. It's almost admirable but ultimately stupid."
"You had no right!"
"I have every right. Your contract with me includes your communications.
Technically, anything on your phones falls under my purview as your representative.
" He steps closer, voice dropping. "End things with the girl, Declan.
Or I'll make sure both your careers are destroyed.
I've invested too much in you to let some distraction ruin everything. "
"No."
His eyebrows rise. "Excuse me?"
"I said no. I'm not ending things with Ivy, and I'm not renewing our contract." The decision crystallizes as I say it. "When it expires in six months, we're done."
"You can't try that."
"I can and I will." I step into his space now, using my height advantage. "I want a new agent who actually represents my interests instead of controlling every aspect of my life."
"You ungrateful bast..." His composure cracks slightly. "I made you, took you from a grieving nineteen-year-old with potential into a multimillionaire athlete. Everything you have is because of me."
"Everything I have is despite you, and I'm done letting you run my life."
I walk away before he can respond. The morning air is cold against my heated skin, and I force myself to breathe, to think and plan instead of just reacting. Gregory thrives on emotional responses. He's built his career on manipulating people when they're vulnerable.
I won't give him that satisfaction.
Inside, I pull up my contacts and call the first lawyer I can think of. Jake's divorce attorney, who handled his messy separation last year with ruthless efficiency.
"I need help," I say when she answers. "Contract law. Financial forensics. Possibly fraud."
The lawyer's name is Patricia Ammon, and she's terrifying in the best way.
Forty-five, sharp as a blade, with a reputation for destroying people who underestimate her. She meets me at a coffee shop downtown hours later, after she's gathered some evidence. Spreading documents across the table, she gets straight to business.
"Your contract with Gregory Stallworth," she says, tapping a thick folder. "Walk me through how it started."
I explain everything to her, then ask, "Can we break it?"
"We can try. But first, I need you to review these." She pulls out bank statements, highlighting lines in yellow. "These are your earnings versus your reported income. Notice anything?"
I scan the numbers, and my stomach drops.
The discrepancies are enormous. Money that should have come to me but somehow ended up elsewhere. Management fees that don't add up. Investment losses that seem suspiciously convenient.
"How much?" My voice is barely steady.
"Approximately eight million dollars over nine years. Possibly more, depending on what else we find."
Fury flares up in me. I curl my fists, forcing myself to breathe in and out slowly.
Eight million dollars!
Gregory has been stealing from me for nearly a decade, skimming off the top while controlling every aspect of my life.
"I want him destroyed."
"We'll need evidence. Financial records, communications, proof of coercion or fraud." She closes the folder. "This will be messy, Declan. He'll fight back dirty."
"I don't care. He's already going after Ivy. I'm not letting him win."
She nods, satisfied. "Then let's burn his world down."
We spend another hour going through documents.
Patricia takes notes, building the case that will destroy Gregory's career the same way he's trying to destroy mine.
When I finally leave the coffee shop, the sun is setting, painting the city in colors that feel too beautiful for how ugly everything has become.
Now that I know how easily Gregory has been tracking my phones, I need to do something about it. I change the phones and transfer my lines.
There are seventeen missed calls and twenty-three unread texts from Ivy.
But I don't text or call back. I don't show up at her apartment or anywhere she might be.
I ignore her messages, each one like a knife to the chest:
Ivy:
Declan, what's happening? Why won't you talk to me?
Ivy:
Did I do something wrong?
Ivy:
Please just tell me you're okay.
Ivy:
I need you.
That last one nearly breaks me. But Riley's voice echoes in my head—you going to her now will only make it worse.
So, I stay away.
After two days of silence, I can't bear it anymore. I text her as King.
King:
I'm sorry I've been quiet. Work has been overwhelming. How are you?
The response comes immediately, like she's been waiting.
Ivy:
I don't know how I am. Everything's falling apart. My research is being questioned. It's undergoing an ethics investigation. I feel like I'm losing everything at once.
Guilt tastes like acid.
I reassure her with my words until she's calm. While we're still chatting, my phone buzzes with a news alert.
The headline makes my blood run cold.
“brEAKING: Metro Raptors Researcher Accused of Data Manipulation to Protect Star Player”
The article includes security footage. It's grainy and edited but damning. It shows Ivy at a computer in the research wing of the facility, supposedly altering assessment results. The timestamp is from a week ago.
It has to be fake, but it looks real enough that people will believe it.
My phone rings. Patricia Ammon.
"Have you seen the video?" she asks without preamble.
"I saw it just now."
"It's been leaked to every major sports outlet." Her voice is grim. "Declan, this is Gregory and he wants maximum damage. You know that, right?"
"Yeah." My voice is hollow. "I know."
"Then you need to prepare for war. Because he's destroying anyone you care about to bring you to heel. If he succeeds, who will he go after next?"
The call ends.
A minute later, my phone vibrates. It's a message from an unknown number:
Private no:
She'll lose everything because of you. Her research, her degree, her reputation. All because Declan Hawthorne wanted something he couldn't have. How does that feel?
I don't need proof to know who sent it.
Gregory wants me to be desperate enough to cave to his demands. Instead, I forward everything else Patricia might need and text my siblings:
Declan:
Emergency family meeting. My place. Now. We're taking Gregory down, and I need your help.
If he wants war, I'll give him one.