Epilogue
The arena was empty.
I sat alone in the locker room long after everyone else had left, the echoes of the game still clinging to the walls. My knuckles were scraped raw, the skin split in two places. My jersey hung heavy on my shoulders, still damp with sweat and melted ice.
The win didn’t matter.
None of it mattered anymore.
Because earlier today—
I saw her.
Laughing.
Standing beside Nathan Harrington like nothing had ever happened. Like she hadn’t burned my life to the ground and walked away without a scratch. Like Harrington hadn’t shaken hands, signed contracts, and come out of it cleaner than he’d ever been.
I stared at my reflection in the metal locker across from me.
Scarred.
Older.
Harder.
There was a time I didn’t recognize the man looking back. Now he was the only version of me that made sense.
They got everything.
And I got ruined.
My jaw tightened until it ached.
For years, I told myself to move on. Focus on the game. Let it go.
But seeing them together—
That ended it.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs, staring down at my hands. Blood had dried along my knuckles, cracked into thin lines that stung when I flexed my fingers.
Good.
Pain meant something.
Pain reminded me I wasn’t done.
I pushed to my feet slowly, grabbing my towel and dragging it over my face before tossing it aside. The locker room lights buzzed overhead, too bright, too quiet.
Too final.
But this wasn’t the end.
Not for them.
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and paused just long enough to look at my reflection one more time.
It started with a name.
Ryker tossed it out like it meant nothing, like it was just another headline that would come and go.
“Harrington’s company is merging with Hale Industries,” he’d said, peeling off his gloves after practice. “Big deal. Like—billions big.”
I didn’t react. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t give him anything to latch onto.
But I filed it away.
Now I sat in my apartment, the city glowing through the windows behind me, laptop open on the table.
Digging.
Financial reports.
Press releases.
Investor summaries.
I clicked through document after document, piecing it together like a puzzle no one else seemed interested in solving.
Hale Industries.
Harrington Group.
Separate, powerful—
Together?
Untouchable.
That word sat heavy in my chest.
Untouchable.
I leaned back in my chair; the leather creaking under my weight as I dragged a hand over my jaw.
Of course that was what he was building.
Of course Harrington wasn’t satisfied with getting away clean.
He wanted more. More power. More protection. More distance from what he’d done.
My eyes flicked back to the screen, to the numbers, the projections, the language dressed up to look clean and strategic.
But I could see through it.
This wasn’t just a deal.
It was a shield.
A way to make sure no one could ever touch him.
My jaw tightened.
A slow, deliberate breath filled my lungs before I pushed the chair back slightly, staring at the skyline instead of the screen.
I would take them down.
Both of them.
It didn’t take long to find the crack.
Men like Harrington built empires on image—clean lines, polished smiles, family-first headlines. You just had to look where the shine was brightest to see where it would fracture.
I dug through everything. Board reports. Press coverage. Charity features.
And then…
There she was.
A photo from some polished, forgettable event. Harrington in a suit that probably cost more than my first car, hand resting lightly at the small of her back like he owned the world—and she was part of it.
Chastity Harrington returns home after completing her degree.
I clicked the image. Zoomed in. Scrolled.
More pictures.
Different angles. Different events. Same girl. Soft smile. Clear eyes.
No edge to her. No calculation.
Nothing like Barbara. Nothing like the world I’d been dragged through.
My jaw tightened as I leaned closer to the screen.
I opened another article. Mentions of her stepping into the company soon. Representing the next generation.
The future of Harrington Group.
And there it was.
The real leverage.
Not the deal. Not the money. Not even Barbara.
Her.
I sat back slowly, letting it settle.
“You care about her,” I said under my breath, like I was testing the truth of it.
Because men like Harrington?
They didn’t care about much.
But they always had one thing they couldn’t afford to lose.
I stared at her photo again.
The way she leaned slightly into him.
The way he angled his body toward hers.
Protective.
Proud.
My lips curved. Slow. Cold.
“That’s it,” I said.
That was where he broke.
I closed the laptop halfway, but not all the way. Her face still visible in the glow.
Collateral damage.
The thought came easy.
Too easy.
And I didn’t fight it.
Because this wasn’t about her.
This was about balance. About taking something from him the way he took everything from me.
My fingers tapped once against the table.
Decision made.
“I found you,” I murmured. “Now I just have to take you.”