Chapter Twenty Four - Scarlett
It starts with a gut feeling.
One of those annoying, nagging hunches that just won’t let up. Shell’s back in her suite asleep, and I should be too—but I’m sitting on the hotel bed with my laptop open, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Just do it. Type his name Scarlett. The little voice in my head eggs me on.
Asher Kingston.
I’ve never Googled him before. Stupid, right?
I’ve been building a business around trust and instinct—and now I’m relying on search engines like a lovesick PI.
But something is willing me to look, if he will not tell me his secret on his own, whatever it is Caleb keeps banging on about, then I’ll give myself a heads up.
I press enter.
First: photos. Glorious, shirtless ones—his old agent really was playing a thirst trap angle. Interviews, scouting reports, press about his early transfer to Dawson’s Ridge, and…
“Ridgebacks’ Rising Star Linked to Fatal Car Crash Two Years Ago”
I freeze. The article has caught my attention. I forgot about that story, when it broke Dad was desperately trying to find out what happened and who was involved but the club executives sealed it shut tight. He lost a lot of players that season so no one is for sure who was a part of it.
I click.
It’s vague. His name is mentioned, but so is anyone who was signed that season and never took the field, it’s not confirmed.
“Unnamed athlete.” “Sources close to the team.” “Behavioural bond.” The story’s been carefully scrubbed.
Like someone tried to squash it and hide whatever really happened.
Interesting, was this what Caleb has his knickers in a knot about?
Is the star athlete Asher? Is that why it’s taken him so long to be eligible for debut?
I read every word.
And feel the world tilt beneath me.
I slam the laptop shut. My pulse is roaring in my ears. I don’t know anything I’m speculating. It’s all speculation, I tell myself.
Needing a distraction, I pick up my phone ready to scroll through TikTok—and that’s when I see the tag.
Scarlett Walker featured in ‘People to Watch’ – Maroon Management’s founder gains major attention after NBL player endorsement and season launch success.
Wait, what? This is very different to yesterday’s article in the same paper.
I click the link.
It’s beautifully written. Highlights my career, my firm, my goals, my clients. There’s even a quote about how women are redefining power in sports. It’s… glowing.
And at the bottom:
Published by the Kingsley Media Group. No direct journalist.
Hmm. I click open safari on my phone and search “Kingsley Media Group”
The first image to pop up is Mr Kingsley an older man I don’t know, I keep scrolling through until a young boy with brown tasselled hair and piercing blue eyes—a young Asher stops me dead in my tracks. I click the photo with the caption reading “Alfred Kingsley and son Asher Kingsley”
No.
No. No. No.
This is some big joke, it has to be.
Kingsley?! What about Kingston? What the fuck is going on here? Who is Asher Kingston.
I grab my phone and call Shell.
She answers, groggy. “Scarlett? It’s—babe it’s 2 a.m.”
“Shell. Did you know? About the article? The media group bullshit? Is Asher not Asher?” I’m rambling like a mad woman, this shit is my job to know, how don’t I know.
She goes quiet.
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.
No one else knows I saw it years ago on paper work and when I asked him he made me sign a god damn NDA.
” she says finally. “But yes. It’s his family.
I assumed he’d pull some strings with them after I rang him and blew him up.
Not many people know who he really is, not even your dad. ”
I feel like I’m spinning.
He fixed my image. He buried the backlash. He made me a star in the management world overnight—and he never told me. He never told me who he really was. I’m furious, not only has he lied to his manager, the man that’s been sharing my bed and my body isn’t the man I thought he was.
Suddenly I can’t breathe. I’m having a panic attack, I drop the phone without hanging up. I can hear Shell calling out to me but I can’t move. My breathing quickens and my hands are sweaty, my heartbeat is thumping out of my chest and my ears fill with white noise.
What else is he not telling me?
I need answers, but how am I supposed to trust Asher. Even Shell didn’t tell me, it wasn’t her story to tell but I thought we were besties now. Heck, she’s just been hired by Maroon Management. Well at least she gets a big green tick in client confidentiality.