CHAPTER 18

Jarett

Legal doesn’t hit like a body check. It's slower and much dirtier. And it leaves bruises no one can see.

Helena was already at my kitchen table when I woke up. Her laptop was open and there was a pot of coffee that smelled like it had been brewing since 4am.

She looked like hell yet she looked unstoppable.

“Morning,” I said to her. "You look like—"

“Don’t,” she said, without looking up. “If you say ‘you look tired’ I will throw this mug at you.”

“I was gonna say you look terrifying.”

She finally glanced at me. “Better.”

On the table in front of her, there were spreadsheets, receipts of bank transfers, emails printed out and color-coded.

“Vanessa’s consulting fees,” Helena said, tapping a line. “$40,000 a month. From Brent’s team budget. For player wellness."

“And?”

“And there’s no record of her ever running a single wellness program.” She smiled. “It's an embezzlement, Jarrett. And it’s on Brent’s signature.”

I sat down. “You’ve been up all night?”

“I slept for two hours.”

“Well that sounds like a lie to me.” I said, staring at her intently.

“Fine. I didn't sleep at all.” she confessed.

She pushed another paper at me. “This is better. Vanessa’s texts from the phone she ‘lost’ last week.”

I frowned. “How did you get those?”

“I didn’t steal them.” She looked up at me, dead serious. “One of her assistants did. Kid’s 22. Vanessa screamed at her for spilling coffee. Girl sent me everything out of spite.”

Gods. I took the screenshots and read through them. Vanessa had asked the sender to lie to the press that Helena was unstable and the sender had promised to do so after the game and make it look like a breakdown.

Vanessa was sure this was going to work because Helana had been seen crying in public before and when she's seen crying on camera again, it will further solidify her claim that Helena is truly unstable.

Helena tapped the last one. “This is defamation and conspiracy. And wire fraud if they used team email.”

I ran a hand over my face. “You’re going to burn them.”

“I’m going to bury them,” she corrected. “Legally.”

******

By noon we were already in my lawyer’s office.

By 2pm the league had received a 40-page complaint.

By 4pm Brent’s team put out a statement that they were 'reviewing internal matters and cooperating fully,'

I could only translate that to mean that they were panicking.

Helena didn’t celebrate, instead, she went to practice.

I watched her from the stands with her clipboard in hand and her hair in the usual tight bun before practice.

She was a pro at this, even better than Brent ever was, after practice, Vanessa showed up. Of course she would.

She was waiting by Helena’s car in heels and a coat that cost more than my first car.

“Helena,” she said in a sweet voice, “Can we talk?”

Helena didn’t stop walking. “No.”

“It’s about Brent. He’s really upset about the leak.”

“I don’t care.” Helena didn't even slow down.

“You should,” Vanessa said, stepping in front of her. “Because if you keep this up, people are going to start asking questions about you too. About your... episodes.”

Helena stopped.

I was 20 feet away and I saw the flicker of the wolf in her eyes.

Vanessa saw it too. And she smiled wider. “See? That’s what I mean by unstable.”

Big mistake. Helena pulled out her phone and hit play. Then Vanessa's voice began playing, clear as day.

“I filmed her. She looked crazy. Post it.” Vanessa's voice sounded out from Helena's phone.

I watched as Vanessa’s face went white.

“That’s— that’s illegal recording,” she stammered.

“In a public arena where there’s no expectation of privacy?” Helena tilted her head. “My lawyer disagrees.”

She walked around her and got in the car, then rolled down the window.

“Oh, and Vanessa? The assistant you fired? She works for me now and she’s very loyal.” Helana said and drove out.

I saw Vanessa standing there, gripping her phone so hard I thought it’d crack.

*******

That night the league announced it.

Formal investigation into Brent Langley’s team for financial misconduct and workplace harassment.

Vanessa Torres terminated effective immediately.

Brent called me but I didn’t answer. He called Helena and she answered but put the phone on speaker.

“Are you happy now?” Brent said. He sounded drunk.

“I’m not happy,” Helena said. “I’m even.”

“You ruined me.”

“You ruined yourself.” She said and without another word, she hung up.

There was silence in my apartment afterwards.

She sat on the floor again, I sat next to her.

“You okay?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “But I’m not pretending to be.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder just for a second then pulled back.

“We’re not done,” she said. “Brent’s still out there. And until they’re all gone, I don’t get to rest.”

“I know.” I replied to her.

“So no fake relationship stuff. No...” She gestured between us. “No this.”

“If that's what you want. Okay,” I said.

“Okay.”

She stood up without another word, went to the guest room and closed the door behind her.

I was still on the floor when a message from a number I'd thought I'd deleted months ago came in.

"She’s not safe with you, wolf. Give her to us or we take her." The text message read.

I deleted it immediately before Helena came back.

I had the pressing urge to reply to the message quickly. But if I did, I would only be giving the person the impression that I was willing to agree to their terms, worse, they could contact Helena personally and that will be the last thing I wanted to happen.