Chapter Twenty-Two Mason Reed #3
This time, when he stepped beside her, she did not remind him not to get in front.
He already knew.
They reached the front entrance just as the last family left through the side door.
Ryan stood outside the glass again.
But this time he was not alone.
A woman stood beside him.
Late twenties maybe. Dark hair pulled back. Eyes red. One hand gripping a folder.
Amelia.
Ryan’s sister.
Talia stood between them and the door.
Omar near the side.
Ryan’s smile was gone.
He looked agitated now. Less polished. More desperate.
Amelia saw Billie and lifted the folder.
“I’m sorry,” she called through the glass. “I brought what he took.”
Ryan snapped, “Shut up.”
Mason’s body went rigid.
Billie opened the door only a crack, Talia beside her.
“Amelia,” Billie said calmly. “Step away from Ryan and come to the guard.”
Ryan grabbed Amelia’s wrist.
Mason moved.
Billie’s hand shot out against his chest.
Again.
Anchor.
Boundary.
Beside.
“Mason,” she whispered.
He stopped.
Barely.
Outside, Talia stepped forward fast. “Let go of her.”
Ryan tightened his grip.
Amelia winced.
That was enough.
Omar moved in from the side.
Ryan released her and backed up, phone flying up in his hand. “Touch me and I’ll sue.”
Billie’s voice cut through, cold and clear.
“Ryan, you are currently on camera, in front of two licensed security guards, after being formally barred from this event. Leave now.”
Amelia rushed toward Talia, folder clutched to her chest.
Ryan’s face twisted. “You think that saves you? You think my uncle’s money makes this place clean?”
Billie held the door. “No. I think your sister’s courage is currently the only respectable thing in this car park.”
Amelia burst into tears.
Ryan took one step forward.
Mason’s breath sharpened.
Gabe appeared beside him and said, low, “Cameras on him.”
Mark stood behind Billie, phone raised.
Harper appeared too, not filming for content, filming for evidence.
Ryan saw the phones.
Saw security.
Saw the crowd no longer there to perform for.
Saw Billie not afraid.
His face collapsed into something ugly and small.
“This place deserves to fail,” he spat.
Billie’s chin lifted.
“No,” she said. “You just hate that it didn’t need you to survive.”
That landed.
Ryan looked like he might lunge, but Talia stepped into his path.
“Leave,” she said. “Now.”
This time, Ryan did.
Not dramatically.
Not with a final threat.
He backed away, shaking with fury, then turned and crossed the car park.
Omar followed at a distance until Ryan got into a car and drove off.
Only then did Billie open the door.
Amelia stepped inside, shaking, folder in both hands.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I should have done this sooner.”
Billie’s face softened, but her voice stayed steady. “Are you safe?”
Amelia nodded. “He won’t come to my place. Graham knows. My mum knows. I just, I found these in his bag when he came by.”
She held out the folder.
Billie did not take it.
She looked at Talia. “Can you document handoff?”
Talia nodded. “Good call.”
Amelia handed the folder to Talia first. Talia photographed the folder, noted time, then passed it to Billie.
Billie opened it.
Mason looked only when she angled it toward him.
Inside were copies.
Old archive photos.
The missing skating photo.
A scan of the bridge loan signature page.
The draft investment agreement.
Printouts of scheduled posts with captions.
And one page that made Billie go very still.
A list.
Potential angles:
Ice Queen performed grief. Bridge loan = hidden debt. Vale takeover. Mason distraction. Sophie/Luca past? Friday disruption if denied entry. Anonymous texts from burner.
Harper whispered, “He planned all of it.”
Gabe swore softly.
Mason stared at the page.
Sophie/Luca past?
His gaze snapped toward Sophie across the lobby.
She had gone pale.
Luca stood a few feet behind her, face hard.
Book Three problem had just been put on paper.
Billie closed the folder.
Her expression was ice over fury.
“Okay,” she said.
Mason looked at her.
He knew that tone now.
Ryan had not just lost access.
He had handed her the map.
Billie turned to Harper. “Secure this. Copy for police. Copy for Graham. Nothing public until after dinner.”
Harper nodded.
Billie looked at Amelia. “Thank you.”
Amelia wiped her cheeks. “I didn’t want him to hurt the kids.”
The room softened.
Billie’s voice gentled. “Then you stopped him.”
Amelia cried harder.
Evie appeared with tissues and a hoodie because apparently Hartley women handled trauma with fabric and logistics.
The sponsor dinner bell rang from the rink entrance.
A polite, ridiculous chime.
Billie looked toward the dining area.
Then down at the folder.
Then at Mason.
For one second, everything unsaid returned.
The offer.
The calls.
The hurt.
The hand.
Always.
But the night was not done with them.
Not yet.
Billie straightened.
“Dinner,” she said.
Mason blinked. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“You just got proof Ryan orchestrated the whole week.”
“And we will handle it through the right channels.” Her eyes flashed. “But he does not get to steal the dinner too.”
Mason stared at her.
Then smiled despite everything.
“What?” she asked.
“You are impossible.”
“I am correct.”
“Both.”
Her mouth curved.
Small.
Fierce.
Then she walked toward the sponsor dinner with Ryan’s folder in Harper’s hands, the junior gear fund at sixty-five thousand dollars, and the whole rink watching her like she had already won.
Mason followed beside her.
But the old dream followed too.
And before the night ended, he knew he would have to decide whether back was still where he wanted to go.