Chapter Twenty-Two #3
“I need to rebuild the production plan, replace technology sponsors, approve consent zones, refund withdrawals, and prepare a live trap for an international media company.”
“Busy week.”
“You may be moving six hours away.”
“After the season.”
“We have not finished the thirty-day bet.”
“No.”
“We are only on date three.”
“Penalty-box granola counted.”
“Under protest.”
Emmett looked down at her.
“What are you asking?”
Piper turned the chair toward him.
“I do not know.”
“That is allowed.”
“I dislike it.”
“I know.”
She looked at his hands.
“You said you want to date me after the cameras stop.”
“Yes.”
“What if they never stop completely?”
“Then we decide what they see.”
“That sounds optimistic after the battery camera.”
“It is a goal, not a guarantee.”
Piper considered the distinction.
Then she stood.
“I want to finish the six dates.”
“Real dates.”
“Yes.”
“Even if the bet ends early?”
“The bet ended when we both lost.”
“Tied.”
“Still under dispute.”
Emmett smiled.
Piper watched it appear.
“I want the dates,” she continued. “Then I want more.”
His pulse changed.
“How many?”
“Do not request a calendar commitment during a criminal investigation.”
“I prefer parameters.”
“I know.”
She stepped between his knees.
Emmett’s hands remained beside him on the console.
Waiting.
Piper touched his jaw.
“After the showcase, no fake dates.”
“Agreed.”
“No performing affection because someone donated money.”
“Agreed.”
“No letting strangers vote on whether we are real.”
“They were wrong.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Her expression softened.
Emmett wanted to kiss her.
The lighting booth had been swept.
The hidden relay downstairs was disconnected.
Elise’s laptop was now evidence.
He still waited.
Piper noticed.
“Not here,” she said.
“Date four.”
“After the showcase.”
“Five days and approximately fourteen hours.”
“You calculated.”
“Yes.”
“That is almost romantic.”
“It is deeply romantic.”
She laughed and rested her forehead against his.
No kiss.
Still intimate.
Still theirs.
The clean temporary phone in Emmett’s pocket rang.
Piper stepped back.
“Celeste?”
“Unknown number.”
He activated speaker before answering.
“Emmett Novak.”
Martin Ellis’s voice came through the line.
“The contract has passed legal review. I need your answer by noon tomorrow.”
Emmett looked at Piper.
She did not nod.
Did not shake her head.
His choice.
“I will call you before noon.”
“There is one new condition.”
Emmett’s body tightened.
“What?”
“Vantage contacted our ownership group and threatened litigation if we employ you while their series is in production.”
Piper folded her arms.
“Does that change the offer?” Emmett asked.
“No. It changes the urgency. We want your signed acceptance before they create another reason for someone to hesitate.”
Emmett looked toward the call sheet on Elise’s screen.
The series expected him to leave Piper for his career.
Accepting the contract could be edited into Ending C before he played a single professional game.
Refusing could be edited into sacrifice.
There was no public choice Vantage could not title.
“What do you want?” Piper asked him quietly.
Not what should he do.
Not what protected her.
What did he want?
“The contract,” Emmett said.
Her smile appeared immediately.
He spoke into the phone.
“Send the final version to my attorney. I am accepting pending signature review.”
“Good,” Ellis said. “We will issue no public statement until you approve it.”
“No relationship references.”
“Already removed.”
The call ended.
Piper looked at him.
“You took it.”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“Tradition,” she said.
Emmett held out his hand.
Piper took it.
They walked downstairs together.
By seven thirty, Daniel’s team had mapped the entire finale system.
The physical key Elise surrendered could revoke her authorization at any point after the live sequence began. A court order was being prepared to prevent Celeste from appointing a replacement executive.
University security agreed to preserve the ceremony platform rather than remove it.
Local police would control the production booth during the showcase.
Vantage would believe its system remained active.
For the first time since Owen’s breakup video, Emmett could see a path toward an ending not built entirely from reaction.
Then Sasha opened the updated prompt file.
Her face changed.
“What?” Piper asked.
Sasha did not answer.
She turned the laptop toward them.
Vantage had modified the finale sequence at 6:58 that morning.
The original three phrases remained.
I choose Emmett.
I choose myself.
I choose to let him go.
A fourth authentication prompt had been added beneath them.
Not a scripted ending.
Not something Piper could avoid by refusing the choices.
Emmett read the new trigger twice.
His entire body became cold.
The phrase was only three words.
Words Piper had said to him that morning through a temporary phone.
Words Vantage now expected her to say again on the ceremony platform.
I love you.
Sasha looked toward Piper.
“If you tell Emmett you love him during the finale, the client archive decrypts.”