16. Camden #2
Camden stepped away from the podium.
Behind him, Chloe started talking over the noise, trying to fill the dead air. The presenter remained beside the untouched trophy as Camden crossed the stage without looking back.
The heat from the lights disappeared when he passed through the curtain. Headset chatter crowded the backstage corridor, but he kept walking.
The microphone stayed clipped to his jacket as Camden crossed the hall and pushed into the VIP Green Room before anyone could stop him.
He pulled the door shut and walked past the couches toward the catering table along the far wall.
The arena noise reached the room as a muffled wash, distant enough to make the space feel cut off from the disaster still unfolding onstage.
He braced a hand against the table.
The door flew open behind him.
Marcus entered first, with Chloe close on his heels. His father’s face had gone red above the collar of his dress shirt, and one hand cut through the air before the door even shut.
“You arrogant, ungrateful son of a bitch. A nine-figure endorsement contract just went up in smoke on live television because you threw a tantrum!”
Camden stayed where he was.
Chloe pointed toward the door. “Do you have any idea what you just did out there? The control room is trying to salvage the broadcast while every sports desk in the country clips your retirement speech.”
Marcus rounded on him. “You are going back out there. We call it exhaustion, we blame the week, we get the league physician in front of a camera, and then we start repairing the damage.”
“No.”
Marcus stopped.
Camden shifted his weight against the table and looked at Chloe instead. “Repairing it won’t be the first problem.”
Her expression tightened. “What does that mean?”
“The footwear CEO needs someone to blame by morning.” Camden held Marcus’s stare. “My retirement is obvious. But the campaign didn’t collapse tonight. It started bleeding the second those rehab photos turned the partnership into a circus.”
Chloe turned on him. “Don’t start.”
“The executives wanted controlled chemistry. What they got was you sitting in my lap inside a restricted team room while cameras were already watching.”
“Marcus dictated that timeline!” Chloe snapped. “He ordered those uploads, Camden. Don’t you dare let him pin this catastrophe on me.”
Marcus turned toward her. “You were nobody in this campaign until I gave you access to him.”
Chloe took a step closer. “You begged me to lean into it. You told me the engagement numbers were flat unless people thought we were sleeping together.”
“I told you to sell chemistry, not turn every appearance into a tabloid feeding frenzy.”
“You sent photographers to O’Malley’s.”
Marcus shut his mouth.
Camden kept his voice level. “There it is.”
Both of them looked at him.
He pushed away from the table just enough to stand. “The campaign wasn’t the problem. You used her to get Tess out of my house.”
Marcus gave a short laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. Tess left because she couldn’t handle the life.”
“No.” Camden looked straight at him. “She left because somebody made sure she saw me at our bar, on our anniversary, with cameras waiting outside.”
Chloe folded her arms. “You told me that dinner was scheduled because the CEO wanted a hometown location.”
Marcus shot her a look. “Stay out of this.”
“You picked the bar,” Camden said.
Marcus stepped toward him. “I picked a setting that worked.”
“On my anniversary.”
“That date was irrelevant.”
Camden held his silence.
Marcus paced once across the carpet, then turned back with both hands spread. “You were wasting half your career protecting some invisible domestic arrangement that had no business interfering with a global campaign.”
Camden did not move toward him.
Marcus kept going.
“You wanted the marriage hidden. I made sure it stayed hidden.”
“You made sure she disappeared.”
“She was going to become a problem.”
The room went dead quiet.
Camden looked at him. “Because she wouldn’t play along?”
Marcus’s expression slipped for a moment, then hardened again.
“Because a secret wife turns into a scandal. Scandals turn into questions. Questions destroy positioning.” He pointed toward Camden. “You were sitting on the biggest endorsement window of your career, and she was about to walk into it and ruin the illusion.”
Chloe dropped her arms. “Marcus, stop talking.”
He ignored her.
Camden kept his hand away from his jacket.
“You wanted her gone,” he said.
Marcus stepped closer.
“You lacked the nerve to do it yourself.” His voice rose again. “I bought out O’Malley’s on your anniversary because I needed her gone.”
Marcus’s words lingered in the room.
Camden stayed beside the catering table and let the silence stretch. Chloe stared at Marcus, one hand pressed against the opposite arm as though holding herself in place. His father stood several feet away, still carrying the posture of a man who expected the next sentence to belong to him.
It didn’t.
Camden pushed away from the table.
“Camden,” Chloe said. “Don’t.”
He reached for his lapel.
Marcus frowned. “What are you doing?”
Camden unclipped the microphone and pulled it free from his jacket. The braided wire followed, sliding across the fabric before disappearing beneath his lapel. Chloe looked down at his hand.
She went completely still.
Camden drew the wire out farther, then reached beneath his jacket and found the transmitter at his waistband.
He pulled it free.
Marcus went entirely still.
Camden held it between them beneath the overhead lights. A red indicator blinked against the casing, steady and unmistakable.
Chloe took one step backward. “Marcus… the transmitter.”
Camden turned the pack so the control faced them.
“It’s still blinking,” she said.
Marcus stared at the device, then at Camden. “No.”
Camden pushed the mute control.
The switch did not move.
Marcus stepped toward him. “The control room cuts the channel when talent clears the stage. That’s automatic broadcast protocol.”
Camden lowered the transmitter.
“You left the podium,” Marcus said. “The floor engineer would have killed your feed before you made it ten feet down that corridor.”
Chloe stared at the closed door. “Tell me he’s right.”
Camden said nothing.
Marcus pointed at the pack. “That light means the unit has power. It does not mean your audio made air.”
Camden let him keep talking.