Chapter 30 DECLAN #2
Patricia pulls up the email chains, the text messages. Gregory's words displayed on the screen for everyone to see: She's a liability. Make her go away, or I will.
"Dr. Chandler," Patricia says softly, "why are you here today?"
Ivy finally looks at me. Her brown eyes are steady, fierce.
"Because the truth matters. Because Mr. Stallworth tried to destroy my career, my reputation, and my relationship with Declan to maintain power over him. Because I won't let someone like that win."
The room falls silent.
Barnes tries to discredit her on cross-examination, implying she's biased, that she's testifying out of personal interest. But Ivy doesn't flinch.
She answers every question with calm precision, citing dates, presenting evidence, dismantling his arguments with the same analytical brilliance she brings to her research.
By the time she steps down, Gregory's lawyer looks defeated.
"The board will now deliberate," Pemberton announces. "We'll reconvene in two hours."
The waiting is torture.
We're directed to a sterile, windowless side room with uncomfortable chairs and buzzing fluorescent lights. Riley paces. Rowan stares at his phone. Marcus sits beside me, silent.
Ivy perches on the edge of a chair across from me, her hands folded so tightly her knuckles are white. I want to go to her. But there are too many people, too many eyes.
"You did amazing," Sloane tells her quietly.
"I just told the truth."
"You destroyed him," Jake says, leaning against the wall. "I've seen grown men crumble under less pressure than you just handled."
Tyler and Connor nod in agreement. Misha just gives her a small, approving smile.
Two hours feel like two years.
Finally, we're called back.
The gallery has filled even more with press and NHL officials. We take our seats. Gregory sits motionless at his table, expression blank.
Pemberton clears his throat.
"After careful review of the evidence and testimony presented, this board has reached its decision.
" He shuffles papers, taking his sweet time.
"Regarding Gregory Stallworth, we’ve found evidence of financial fraud, psychological manipulation, and blackmail.
Mr. Stallworth's agent license is hereby permanently revoked.
He will be referred to criminal prosecutors for potential charges including wire fraud, embezzlement, and extortion.
He is ordered to repay all improperly obtained funds, totaling eight point two million plus interest, to Mr. Hawthorne within ninety days. "
The room erupts. Riley shrieks. Rowan pumps his fist. Marcus rushes to me and grips my shoulder hard enough to bruise.
"Regarding Declan Hawthorne," Pemberton continues, and the room quiets again. "We find no evidence of misconduct on his part. His suspension is immediately lifted, effective today. This board commends Mr. Hawthorne for his courage in exposing systemic abuse within the player-agent relationship."
People surge around me. Teammates clap my back, Riley throws herself into my arms, Rowan's rare grin splits his face. Jake pulls me into a crushing hug, muttering something about justice and brotherhood.
But I'm looking for Ivy.
She's standing near the back, pressed against the wall by the crowd, eyes wet but smiling. I push through bodies until I reach her, and then I'm cupping her face in my hands and kissing her in front of everyone.
She makes a small surprised sound before melting into me. Her hands fist in my shirt, and I pour everything into this kiss.
Gratitude. Love. Relief. Promise.
When we break apart, the room has gone quiet.
Marcus is staring. Riley is grinning. The entire team is watching.
"I love you," I say loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'm done hiding it."
Ivy's cheeks flush brilliant red, but she doesn't look away.
"I love you too."
Riley squeals. Tyler whistles. Connor starts a slow clap that the entire team picks up.
Even Marcus shakes his head with something that might be a smile.
Patricia appears at my elbow, tablet in hand. "The Raptors organization just released a statement. You're officially reinstated. Practice begins tomorrow morning."
The words take a moment to register.
Reinstated. Back on the ice. Back to my life.
I pull Ivy against my side, and she tucks perfectly under my arm.
"We should celebrate," Riley announces. "Dinner everyone. My treat."
"You're a broke art student," Rowan points out.
"Fine. Declan's treat."
I laugh. "Deal."
"And there's more." Patricia's smile sharpens. "Gregory's attorney just contacted me. They're withdrawing the lawsuit."
"What?" My arm tightens around Ivy.
"They're dropping all claims. Douglas Barnes knows that after today's hearing, if this goes to court, Gregory will be eviscerated. The evidence we presented here would destroy him in front of a judge. Plus, with criminal prosecution looming, Gregory can't afford to keep fighting civil battles."
"So it's over?" Ivy asks, her voice small.
"Not quite." Patricia scrolls through her tablet. "They're also offering full repayment of the eight point two million within thirty days, plus interest, in exchange for Declan not pursuing additional civil damages."
My head spins. "He's just giving up?"
"He's cutting his losses," Patricia corrects. "If he drags this out, he faces criminal charges with all this evidence on record, counter-suits from you, potential charges from David Mercer and Carter Mills, and complete destruction of whatever reputation he has left. This is damage control."
"Should we accept?" I ask.
"I recommend it. You get your money back, he disappears, and you move on with your life and career. The criminal prosecution will proceed regardless. That's out of our hands now."
I look down at Ivy. She's watching me with those warm brown eyes, waiting for my decision.
"Accept it," I say. "I want this finished."
Patricia nods briskly. "I'll have the paperwork drawn up tonight. Congratulations, Declan. You won."
Riley bounces over, grabbing my free arm. "Come on! Everyone's waiting. We're celebrating at that steakhouse downtown. The fancy one where Tyler got kicked out last year."
"I didn't get kicked out," Tyler protests from across the lobby. "I was politely asked to leave."
"After you challenged the chef to an arm-wrestling contest," Connor adds.
"He accepted!"
The team dissolves into laughter and friendly arguing. Marcus catches my eye and jerks his head toward the exit. His version of approval.
As everyone files out of the building, making plans and cracking jokes, I hold Ivy back for just a moment in the now-empty lobby. The afternoon sun streams through the tall windows, painting everything gold.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
"I'm perfect." She reaches up to touch my face, her fingers gentle against my jaw. "You're free. Really free."
"We're free," I correct, pulling her closer.
She smiles, and it's like the sun breaking through clouds.