Chapter Twenty
Emmett
Emmett Novak had imagined Piper Quinn in a wedding dress exactly once.
The fantasy had not included forty-six hidden cameras, two investigators, and a garment bag being photographed as evidence.
He stood on the ceremony platform while Piper held the card Vantage had hidden inside the dress.
Wear the dress at the showcase, and Vantage permanently deletes the client archive.
Emmett does not need to know the offer exists.
Piper had torn the card in half.
Then she had told everyone to leave the dress.
Now she looked around the venue with the expression she usually wore before making a disaster obey her.
“A fourth ending,” Emmett repeated.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I am still building it.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“You said you wanted the parts of me that are not useful.”
“I did.”
“This part is useful.”
“That is what concerns me.”
Her mouth moved.
Daniel stepped onto the platform and held out an evidence bag. “The card goes inside.”
Piper placed the torn pieces into it.
“What about the dress?” he asked.
“Leave it exactly where they put it.”
Daniel read her. “As bait?”
“As proof that their plan is continuing.”
“We already have proof.”
“We have proof of the hidden installation. We do not have proof of what they intend to do after we terminate the sponsorship.”
Emmett folded his arms. “You want them to believe we might cooperate.”
“I want them to keep communicating.”
“With you.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Piper looked at him.
The word had escaped cleanly.
Emmett tried again.
“I do not want them contacting you without Daniel included.”
“Better.”
“It still means no.”
“It means no private contact.”
“Yes.”
“That is also what I want.”
Emmett stared at her.
Piper lifted one eyebrow. “We can agree without making it suspicious.”
“I am learning.”
“Painfully.”
Daniel looked between them. “The sponsorship termination needs to be issued before the client meeting. Once Vantage receives it, they may react quickly.”
“What client meeting?” Emmett asked.
Piper climbed down from the platform. “Every client and vendor whose information may have been copied.”
“When?”
“Eleven.”
“It is five in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“You scheduled a confidential data-breach meeting in six hours.”
“I had Maren send a preliminary notice while investigators searched the venue.”
Emmett looked toward Maren.
She held up a paper list. “No email. Personal calls from secure lines.”
“How many people?” he asked.
“Thirty-seven confirmed. Twelve still deciding.”
Piper moved toward the main floor.
Emmett followed.
“You have a Ridgeview hearing at eight,” she said.
“I know.”
“You need to leave in forty minutes.”
“I know.”
“You also need to sleep.”
“That option expired yesterday.”
She stopped beside the front row of demonstration chairs.
“Emmett.”
He looked at her.
The concern in her face was real. No event smile. No professional calm.
“I do not want you losing more because of me,” she said.
The sentence tightened something inside him.
“This is not because of you.”
“Owen chose you because you cared about me.”
“Vantage chose me because they wanted a hockey player.”
“You punched Owen because he insulted me.”
“I punched him because I made a bad choice.”
“You fired Graham because he treated me like a campaign.”
“I fired Graham because I could not trust him.”
“The contract disappeared after you refused to use our relationship.”
“Then it was the wrong contract.”
Piper looked toward the hidden garment compartment.
“That sounds very noble at five in the morning.”
“It will sound worse after breakfast.”
Her lips curved.
Emmett stepped closer.
“I want hockey,” he said. “I want a professional career. I also want you. Stop arranging those things like only one can fit inside the room.”
Her expression softened.
“I am an event planner. Room capacity matters.”
“I am large but flexible.”
Piper laughed.
The sound moved through the empty venue.
Emmett wanted to keep it there, untouched by cameras and title cards.
An investigator crossed the floor carrying another sealed relay unit.
The moment returned to evidence.
Piper glanced at the clock above the catering corridor.
“You should go.”
“Are you dismissing me from our third date?”
“The penalty-box granola was date three.”
“This feels more expensive.”
“This is not a date.”
“There is a wedding dress.”
“Do not become hopeful.”
“Too late.”
Her cheeks changed color.
Good.
He needed one thing that morning not designed by Vantage.
Piper touched his wrist.
“Call me after the hearing.”
“My phone is still sealed.”
“Daniel will issue clean temporary phones.”
“Connected devices.”
“Voice only. No cameras. No applications.”
“That sounds like a phone from 2004.”
“Safer year.”
Emmett covered her hand with his.
“What do you need from me at eleven?”
“Stand beside me.”
“Done.”
“Do not speak unless someone asks you directly.”
“Less done.”
“They need to hear from me.”
“They will.”
“If someone blames me, you cannot fight them.”
“I can disagree.”
“Calmly.”
“Define calmly.”
Piper stared at him.
He nodded. “I will work on it.”
The Ridgeview athletic offices opened at seven thirty.
Emmett arrived at seven twenty-two wearing the only clean clothes Griffin had found in the overnight bag from Brennan’s cabin.
Black jeans. Gray sweater. No team logo.
The absence felt deliberate even though it was laundry.
Griffin waited beside him outside the conference room.
“You look terrible,” Griffin said.
“Thank you.”
“You sleep?”
“No.”
“Eat?”
“Half a granola bar.”
Griffin looked impressed. “Romance has changed you.”
“Piper took the larger half.”
“Romance has changed her too.”
The conference-room door opened.
Coach Merritt stood inside with Athletic Director Helen Walsh and a university attorney Emmett had met during the first suspension interview.
A fourth person sat at the far end of the table.
A man in a navy suit with silver hair and a folder bearing the logo of a professional hockey club.
Emmett stopped.
Walsh gestured toward the empty chair. “Sit down.”
He did.
Griffin remained outside.
The door closed.
Walsh placed both hands on the table.
“We reviewed the complete Founders Gala footage, the Briar Bean recording, Owen Keller’s communications, and the evidence provided overnight by law enforcement.”
Emmett waited.
“The stalking allegations appear fabricated,” she continued. “The university will issue a statement clearing you of those claims.”
Relief arrived carefully.
Not enough to trust yet.
“What about the punch?” Emmett asked.
“That remains your conduct violation.”
“I know.”
“You admitted it immediately.”
“Yes.”
“You also failed to report the confrontation.”
“Yes.”
Coach Merritt leaned forward. “Why?”
Emmett looked toward the blank wall behind him.
“I thought silence would keep Piper out of it.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“What did it do?”
“Gave Owen time to choose the story.”
The coach nodded once.
Walsh opened the folder in front of her.
“The suspension from team activities ends today. You will miss the first two regular-season games. You will complete an approved conflict-management program and twenty hours of youth-program service unrelated to publicity.”
Emmett absorbed the terms.
Two games.
Not the season.
Not everything.
He could breathe again.
“I accept.”
Coach Merritt looked at him. “That was not a negotiation.”
“I still accept.”
A faint shift touched the coach’s mouth.
Walsh continued. “Your media restriction remains until the university completes its investigation into Vantage’s use of Ridgeview marks and facilities.”
Emmett thought of the wedding showcase.
“I may need approval for one appearance.”
“We know.”
His attention sharpened.
Walsh glanced toward the man in the navy suit.
“This is Martin Ellis. His organization withdrew its preliminary professional offer yesterday.”
Ellis opened the folder.
Emmett looked at him. “I remember.”
“We withdrew because the risk changed faster than we could verify the facts,” Ellis said. “Not because of your relationship.”
“The relationship was part of the offer.”
“The public version of it was.”
Emmett’s mouth went hard.
Ellis continued before he could respond.
“That was a mistake.”
Emmett waited.
People had apologized often during the last day.
Most apologies arrived after the speaker lost control of the situation.
Ellis placed a single page on the table.
“We are not restoring the original marketing package. We are offering a hockey contract contingent on medical review, season performance, and the resolution of your conduct suspension.”
Emmett looked at the page.
No couple interview.
No digital campaign.
No requirement involving Piper.
The financial number was smaller than Graham’s projected offer.
Still larger than anything Emmett had expected before the summer.
“Why?” he asked.
Ellis leaned back.
“Because your performance has not changed. We allowed a marketability discussion to become more important than whether you could stop a puck.”
Emmett read the terms again.
“What happens if Piper and I stop dating?”
Ellis’s eyebrows lifted.
“Nothing.”
“If we refuse all interviews?”
“You complete standard team media obligations. No relationship content.”
“If Vantage releases private footage?”
“Our legal team responds with yours. It does not alter the playing agreement unless the footage reveals material misconduct.”
Emmett looked toward Walsh.
She gave him nothing.
The choice was his.
He picked up the page.
“I need my attorney to review it.”
Ellis nodded. “Correct answer.”
“I also need to discuss location and timing with Piper.”
The room became quiet.
Emmett understood how the sentence sounded.
Not permission.
Partnership.
Ellis smiled slightly. “Also a correct answer.”
The meeting ended at nine twelve.
Griffin stood when Emmett entered the hallway.
“Well?”
“Two games.”
Griffin blew out a breath and pulled him into a brief hug.
Emmett tolerated it for three seconds.
Then Griffin stepped back.
“You are reinstated?”
“Yes.”
“Contract?”
“Possible.”
Griffin stared. “You say possible as if someone offered you a sandwich.”
“It needs review.”
“Do you want it?”
Emmett looked at the unsigned page.
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look worried?”