Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 114951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering there, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned in instead, like she was bracing herself.
“I started noticing it with the guys,” I said. “Players acting off in ways that didn’t track with injuries or fatigue. Daddy P hasn’t been himself this season, as I know you know. He got sick unexpectedly that one game and I thought — okay, that happens. But then to have his injury flaring up so badly when it hasn’t been an issue, to have Ben as his backup being incredibly inconsistent… It just raised some red flags for me.
“And then I started paying attention. Fabian Lorenz was one of our most dependable defensemen, and suddenly, he’s unpredictable. He’d shut down advances one week and miss easy clears the next. James Hart, a rookie winger, shows up to a game wearing a fucking Rolex I know he can’t afford — not even if he spent every penny of his signing bonus.
“I watched how other staff members interacted with Nathan, how many off-script meetings were happening, how the conversation would stop whenever I entered the room.” I shook my head. “There were games where medical decisions felt… influenced. Guys cleared too quickly. Others held out when they shouldn’t have been.”
I hesitated, the words thick in my throat now. “And then there were the betting lines. They’d move in ways that didn’t reflect public money or analytics. It was like someone already knew how things were going to play out.”
Her breathing had changed, shallow and quick, and I could feel it where she was pressed against me.
“I heard things, too,” I admitted. “When I caught the end of those conversations that stopped when I walked into a room. There was a bookie’s name that came up more than once when it shouldn’t have. And every time I tried to tell myself it was coincidence, something else happened. Another roster decision that felt engineered. Another game where the integrity just didn’t sit right.”
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, frustration curling tight in my chest.
“I know how insane this sounds,” I said, noting how Ariana was staring at me like I had more than a few screws loose. “Accusing a GM of manipulating outcomes is not something you do lightly, and I kept telling myself I needed more than instincts. That I needed proof.”
“It’s not crazy,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “I’ve seen things, too.”
Hope prickled at the back of my neck like the touch of a ghost, and we both sat up straighter, her hands holding fast to mine as I clung to the words tumbling from her now. “Shane, I didn’t understand the signs before, but—” She swallowed. “He has a second phone, too. A burner just like how you set me up with one tonight. I found it in his bag once and he brushed it off like it was nothing. He said he liked to keep some business separate so he wasn’t bothered with unimportant things when he was off the clock.”
My pulse spiked.
“As I already told you, I don’t have access to our money. But sometimes I’m sitting next to him when he’s on his phone, and I’ve caught glimpses of him in his banking app.” She swallowed. “Recently, I noted that it wasn’t the same bank we use for everything else. I thought maybe he’d changed banks without telling me or… I don’t know, that he had opened an account with someone’s bank because he wanted them to donate to the team or something.”
My chest went tight.
“I also saw deposits there. Big ones. Numbers that made my stomach drop. I asked him about it once, and he brushed it off like it was nothing, like I’d misunderstood what I was seeing. He told me it was bonuses, or money moving between accounts that didn’t really belong to us.” Her eyes lifted to mine, wide now. “I stopped asking because every time I did, he made me feel stupid for noticing. But it didn’t feel right. It never felt right.”
She shook her head slowly, eyes flicking back and forth like she was trying to search for more clues that she’d brushed off.
“And just like you, there have been times I’ve walked into a room when he’s on the phone and he’ll take one look at me and end the call abruptly. There are emails, too — he closes them the second he’s not alone. I thought it was just normal work, but…” Her grip tightened on me. “I heard him fighting with someone once. I didn’t know who it was, but he kept saying something about odds being wrong and money being lost.”
Each word landed like confirmation, like the final pieces clicking into place.
I drew her closer, my arm firm around her back, my other hand sliding up to cradle her neck as I leaned my forehead against hers. “You’re not imagining this,” I said quietly. “And neither am I.”