CHAPTER 4: THE POISONED PEN

The black car door slammed shut, loud enough to echo across the empty school yard. Two men stepped out—both in crisp, dark suits, faces set like stone. They didn’t look like teachers. They carried those sleek leather bags you only saw in movies, and they moved with a kind of cold purpose.

Maya squeezed Julian’s hand tighter, her fingers trembling. She glanced over at Coach Miller, the teacher who’d been guiding her for years. She hoped he’d offer a smile or at least a little help, but he wouldn’t even meet her eyes. He only cared about the men in suits.

“Maya Rossi,” one of them called out, his voice flat and bored. “I’m Mr. Sterling. We’re from the Northwood Athletic Board. We need to give you these papers about your scholarship.”

“Right now?” Maya managed, her voice cracking. “In front of everyone?”

Kids started crowding around, whispering, phones out, ready to film. The whole “fake date” thing with Julian already had her on edge, but this felt worse. This felt like a setup.

“The board acts fast when a contract gets broken,” Mr. Sterling said, handing her a blue folder. “You got injured, and you’re spending time with... the wrong people. So your scholarship’s on hold. You’re on probation. If you don’t show real progress in a week, you have to leave the school.”

“One week?” Julian stepped up, towering over the lawyer. “She’s still in a cast! You can’t expect her to prove anything while she’s still healing.”

“The rules are in the papers, Mr. Thorne,” Sterling said, completely unfazed. “And I’d be careful if I were you. We got a complaint about your behavior last night.”

Maya felt her chest tighten. “Last night? Who told you about that?”

Sterling ignored her. He nodded at Coach Miller and headed toward the principal’s office.

Maya turned to Miller, heart pounding. “Coach? Was that you? You know how hard I’m working! You know I’m trying!”

He finally looked her way, but his eyes had gone cold. “I’m a skating coach, Maya. I train winners. Right now, you’re not winning. You’re a distraction. And Julian Thorne is why you’re falling behind. If you want to save your future, stay away from him. That’s all I’ll say.”

He turned his back and walked off.

The rest of the day dragged. Every hallway Maya hobbled through felt like enemy territory.

“There she is,” a girl whispered at the lockers. “The one who lost everything.”

“I heard she’s only with Julian because her mom’s scary or something,” a boy snickered.

Maya kept her head down, feeling like glass about to shatter. At her locker, she froze. Someone had scrawled LOSER in thick, black ink right across the metal.

She tried to scrub the letters away with her sleeve, eyes burning.

“Don’t,” a voice said.

Julian stood next to her, gently pulling her hand away. He grabbed a little bottle of cleaner and a rag from his bag, and without a word, started scrubbing. He moved fast, jaw clenched.

“Why are they doing this, Julian?” Maya whispered. “I never did anything to them.”

“They smell blood,” Julian muttered, not looking up. “When someone at the top slips, everyone below wants to jump on them. Makes them feel powerful.”

“I only have one week,” Maya said, voice shaking. “How am I supposed to show progress in a week? I can’t even stand without crutches.”

Julian finished cleaning and finally looked at her. His eyes were serious, almost fierce. “We’re going to the gym. Now. At lunch.”

“We can’t. We’ll get caught again.”

“We’re not going to the ice. We’re going to the therapy room. They want progress, we’ll give them progress.”

The therapy room was empty, the air sharp with the smell of rubber and soap. Julian locked the door behind them.

“Sit on the bench,” he said.

Maya sat, exhausted. Julian knelt in front of her—not the tough hockey player now, just someone who cared. He started unwrapping her ankle, hands gentle and warm on her cold skin. She watched him concentrate, biting his lip.

“Does it hurt when I move it like this?” he asked, moving her foot just a bit.

“A little,” Maya said. “It’s tight. Like something’s about to snap.”

“That’s fear, not just pain,” Julian told her, looking up. “Your body’s healing, Maya. Your mind’s still stuck at the accident.”

He stood and walked to the parallel bars. “Try walking between these. No crutches. Hold the bars if you need to.”

Maya stared at the bars. They looked impossibly far away. “I can’t. What if my bone breaks again?” It won't. I'm right here. If you fall, I'll catch you. Trust me.

Maya pushed herself up, slow and shaky. The world spun for a second. She grabbed the metal bars—cold and rough—and held on tight. Her hands were sweating. One step. Then another.

The pain stabbed at her, a sharp pull, but not that awful shattering pain she remembered. She took a third step.

"Look at you," Julian whispered. He moved with her, so close his hands hovered near her waist. Ready if she slipped. "You're doing it."

A tiny flicker of hope lit up inside her. "I am. I'm actually walking."

But then the door handle rattled.

"Open the door!" Bianca's voice cut through everything. "I know you're in there! I'm calling the teacher!"

Maya froze. Her balance just vanished. She tripped, her foot catching, and started to tip sideways.

"I've got you!" Julian shouted. He lunged and caught her, pulling her against his chest.

They stood so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. For a heartbeat, the rest of the world just disappeared. No Bianca. No lawyers. No broken ankle. Just Julian’s heart, beating fast against hers.

"You're okay," he whispered. "You're safe."

"Julian..." Maya looked up at him. It hit her—she wasn’t just pretending anymore. She needed him.

The door crashed open. Bianca barged in, dragging the Dean and Maya’s mom behind her.

"See?" Bianca snapped, pointing. "They’re hiding in here. Julian’s distracting her."

Maya’s mom looked at them, her face hard and cold. She didn’t see Maya standing on her own. She just saw her daughter in the arms of the boy she hated.

"Julian Thorne," the Dean said, his voice booming. "You were told to stay away from this room. This is a big mistake. You’re suspended right now."

"What?" Maya shouted. She pulled away from Julian. "No! He was helping me! I just walked! Look at me!"

She tried to take a step to prove it, but her ankle gave out. She hit the floor and cried out.

"Help her?" her mom said, all sharp edges. "He just made her fall again. Maya, get up. We’re leaving."

"He’s suspended?" Maya stared at Julian. His face went pale. He knew. If he was suspended, no hockey. No team. No brother.

"It's okay, Maya," Julian said, but his voice was hollow. He looked at the Dean. "I’ll go. Just don’t punish her. She didn’t do anything wrong."

"Julian, no!" Maya reached for him, but her mom yanked her back.

Julian walked out. He didn’t even look over his shoulder. He just looked broken.

That night, Maya sat locked in her room. No phone—her mom had taken it. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house.

"You have one week to get back on the ice," her mom said through the door. "If you don’t, I’m sending you to a school in Russia. They’re strict there."

Maya sat at her desk, staring out the window. She felt like a caged bird. She glanced at her computer, but there was only one secret way left to reach the outside world: a battered old tablet her dad had given her years ago.

She powered it up and logged into the school’s message board. She wanted to find Julian. She needed to tell him she was sorry.

But there it was—a new post that made her skin go cold.

Her secrets spilled out for everyone to see. The post talked about her mom’s debt. About how Maya cried before every show. And then—worse—there was a photo.

Someone had posted a picture of a letter. She’d written it to her dad months ago, never sent it. In it, she said she hated skating. She wanted to quit.

"I’m only doing this so my mom doesn’t leave me too," the letter read.

The comments underneath were cruel.

"She’s a liar."

"She doesn’t even like the sport."

"Julian is probably laughing at her."

Maya’s stomach twisted. Only one person could’ve found that letter. It was in a box under her bed. Only someone who’d been in her room could have taken it.

She looked at her window. The lock was busted.

Something caught her eye on the floor—a scrap of black cloth by the window. Part of a hockey jersey. Northwood Wolves.

Her heart stopped.

Julian was the only one who knew about the letter. The only one who knew her secrets. Had he lied? Was the "bad boy" just using her to be the hero?

Or was someone else setting him up?

Maya stared out into the dark. One question echoed in her mind.

Is the boy I'm falling for the same person who's trying to destroy me?