CHAPTER 4 - The Interview That Never Happened

Alexander was halfway through his breakfast when Victoria Shaw placed a newspaper on the table in front of him.

"Have you read this?"

He glanced at the headline.

It was Isabella's article.

Again.

"I've seen it."

"Then you'll understand why we need to discuss your next interview."

Alexander put down his fork.

"What interview?"

"Isabella Reed has requested another meeting"

He stared at Victoria.

"Absolutely not"

"Alexander-"

"She asked her questions. I answered what I could. We're finished."

"Your answers were not sufficient for her article"

"That's unfortunate"

Victoria pulled out the chair opposite him.

"This is not a personal disagreement"

"Then why does it feel like I'm being punished for it?"

"Because you're taking it personally".

He let out a laugh without humour.

"She accused me of hiding something."

"She asked whether you knew about the payments."

"Which I don't"

"Then say that"

"I did"

"And she wants clarification"

Alexander pushed his plate away.

He hadn't slept. The conversation with Richard Vale left him restless and the anonymous rumours surrounding the club seemed to be multiplying by the hour.

Now he was expected to sit in front of Isabella Reed, pretend that everything was normal.

He looked at Victoria.

"Why is she so interested in me?"

"Because you're the captain."

"I'm not the director. I don't handle the accounts. I don't approve transfer payments."

"Unfortunately, the public doesn't always distinguish between those responsibilities."

Victoria leaned forward.

"If the club looks as though it has something to hide, the players suffer too. Sponsors become nervous. Supporters lose confidence. The league asks questions. You understand that"

He did.

That was the problem.

He spent his entire career building a reputation as someone who could be trusted. He had become captain because his teammates respected him and because the club believed he represented its values.

He would not allow a scandal to destroy that reputation.

But he refused to become a mouthpiece for people who might be lying to him.

"When is the interview?" Alexander asked.

"Tomorrow afternoon"

"I haven't agreed to it."

"You will."

Alexander's eyes narrowed.

"Is that an instruction?"

Victoria held his gaze.

"It's a request from someone who wants to protect your career."

He stood.

"Then she should stop arranging interviews with journalists who clearly don't like me."

Victoria's expression softened slightly.

"You think she doesn't like you?"

"I know she doesn't."

"Perhaps she doesn't trust you."

Alexander paused.

For reasons he could not explain, the distinction troubled him more than it should have.

He left the dining room without answering.

Isabella had arrived at Westbridge prepared for a battle the next afternoon.

She spent the morning analysing the club's public statements, comparing company records and persuading her father to speak to her.

He refused.

Not angrily.

That would have been easier.

Instead, he sounded frightened.

"I can't discuss this with you"

"Why not?"

"Because you don't understand what you're getting involved in"

"Then explain it to me"

"Please, Isabella. Leave it alone"

The call ended before she could ask another question.

Now, walking through the training complex, she felt the familiar determination return.

Her father might refuse to tell her the truth.

Alexander Hayes might refuse to answer her questions.

Richard Vale might hide behind carefully-worded statements and expensive lawyers.

But she was not going to abandon the story.

A receptionist directed her to a conference room on the second floor.

Alexander was waiting.

He wore a navy jumper and dark jeans, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Without the training kit and the crowd surrounding him, he looked less like a football star and more like an ordinary man who had been dragged into a meeting he did not want to attend.

His eyes travelled over her.

"You came"

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"I was hoping for someone who understands the meaning of the word no."

Isabella set her notebook on the table.

"I understand it perfectly. I simply don't believe it should be the final answer to every difficult question."

Alexander exhaled slowly.

"Do you always talk like that?"

"Only when someone gives me a reason."

"Then I imagine you spend a lot of time talking."

"And you spend a lot of time avoiding conversations."

His mouth twitched.

For one brief moment, she thought he might smile.

Instead, he gestured towards the chair opposite him.

"Sit down."

She did.

A club representative had arranged for the interview to be recorded but Isabella preferred to take her own notes as well. She placed her recorder on the table and opened her notebook.

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me again."

"I didn't agree. I was persuaded."

"I'm sure it was very difficult for you."

"You have no idea."

She ignored the remark.

"Let's begin with the financial allegations."

"Of course."

"Are you aware of a company called Meridian Sports Advisory?"

Something flickered across his face.

So brief that she might have missed it if she had not been watching him closely.

He leaned back.

"Why?"

"Because the company appears in financial records connected to Westbridge FC."

"I don't deal with the club's financial records."

"Have you heard of it?"

He hesitated.

“I've heard people mention it."

"Who?"

"I can't remember."

Isabella made a note.

"Do you know whether Richard Vale was involved with the company before he joined the Westbridge's current management team?"

Alexander's expression hardened.

"I'm not going to speculate about another person's business dealings"

"I'm asking what you know"

"And I'm telling you that I won't make accusations without evidence."

She studied him.

For the first time, she began to suspect that his refusal was not simply arrogance.

He looked genuinely uncomfortable.

"Mr Hayes, I'm not asking you to accuse anyone. I'm asking whether you have information relevant to the investigation."

"And what happens if I do?"

"I verify it."

"And if you can't?"

"I don't publish it."

He stared at her.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes"

"Why?"

"Because if I wanted to write a sensational story without evidence, I would have done it already."

Silence settled between them.

Alexander looked away first.

Isabella glanced at her notes.

"Can I ask you something that isn't about the investigation?"

"I'm beginning to think you don't know how."

" Why did you become a footballer?"

He looked at her, surprised.

"What?"

"You've played professionally since you were eighteen. You've been captain for two seasons. Why football?"

"Because I'm good at it."

"That isn't the same as wanting it."

Alexander studied her as though she had suddenly begun speaking another language.

Then he gave a short laugh.

"You really don't know when to stop, do you?"

" Not when I'm trying to understand someone."

For a moment, his expression changed.

Something unguarded appeared in his eyes, then disappeared.

"Football was the one thing I could control," he said eventually.

Isabella lowered her pen.

"Why did you need control?" she asked.

He looked towards the window.

"Because life doesn't always give you much of it."

The answer was quiet enough that she almost missed it.

Before she could ask another question, he straightened.

"Are we finished?"

She hesitated.

"Yes"

He looked surprised.

"That's it?"

"For today"

" Why?"

"Because I got an answer."

"And you don't want to ask what I meant?"

Isabella closed her notebook.

"I think you would tell me if you wanted me to know."

Alexander stared at her.

For the first time since they had met, he seemed unable to decide what to say.

She gathered her things and stood.

“Thank you for your time."

"Miss Reed."

She turned.

"Isabella," he said, then seemed to regret the word. "You should be careful with this investigation."

She felt a chill move through her.

"Is that a threat?"

"No"

"Then what is it?"

His jaw tightened.

"A warning."

"From whom?"

"I don't know."

She studied his face.

He appeared sincere.

That frightened her more than if he had been lying.

"Then perhaps you should tell me what you do know."

Alexander glanced toward the door.

"I can't."

"Or you won't?"

"Both."

She wanted to argue.

Instead, she slipped her notebook into her bag.

"Then I suppose we're finished."

This time, he did not try to stop her.

Alexander watched Isabella leave through the glass wall.

He had intended to make the interview as unpleasant as possible. He had planned to answer her questions with the same carefully controlled statements he used for every reporter who came looking for trouble.

But she had surprised him.

She had asked about his childhood, and when he gave her an answer, she had not tried to turn it into a dramatic confession.

She had accepted that some things were difficult to explain.

He should have been relieved.

Instead, he found himself wanting to tell her more.

His phone vibrated.

A message from Daniel appeared.

'How did the interview go?'

Alexander typed a reply.

'Terrible.'

Daniel responded immediately.

'Did she insult you?'

'Repeatedly.'

'Did you deserve it?'

Alexander locked his phone.

He was not answering that question.

As he left the conference room, he noticed something lying on the floor near the doorway.

A small black notebook.

Isabella's.

He picked it up.

He should have taken it straight to reception

Instead, he opened the cover to find her name written neatly inside.

Then a loose sheet slipped from between the pages.

It contained a list of company names, financial dates, and several handwritten questions.

One name had been underlined twice.

'Richard Vale.'

Alexander's stomach tightened.

He looked toward the corridor through which Isabella had disappeared.

Whatever she had discovered, it was enough to frighten the people running the club.

And if she continued asking questions, he suspected she would soon discover why.